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throughparisallthroughrome · 7 months ago

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The Sun and His Star

The Result of This Poll

Pairing: greek god!anakin x female reader

Description: Unable to resist a friendly wager, Anakin finds himself in a world of trouble as he seeks out a Naiad he has fallen deeply in love with.

Warnings: f!reader, swearing, angst, unrequited love, mentions of death, mentions of worship, alcohol, SMUT, fingering, oral sex (f recieving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, degradation, literal pussy worship, loss of virginity, corruption kink, crying, size kink, soft dom!anakin, praise kink, orgasm denial, MDNI 18+++

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: I have been SO excited to post this. This is also my first time writing actual smut and i'm pretty nervous about posting this! This is very loosely based of the myth of Apollo and Daphne, except that myth is pretty creepy and Daphne turns into a tree at the end of it so I wanted something a little more happy. Thank you guys for participating in my poll! I really hope you enjoy. As always, my requests and inbox are open!

masterlist.

Thwap!

Almost.

As Anakin's fingers trace the intricate details of his golden bow, his focused eyes never leave the target, anticipating a shot that he thinks to be perfect. Squinting his eyes, he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. His mind ran through different calculations at a million miles a minute. Perks of being a God, I suppose.

He shook his head in frustration, allowing the bow to slip from his hand and rest beside his belongings as he sought reassurance from the comforting embrace of the ancient fig tree. Although he had the entirety of Olympus to practice, Anakin always chose the hills and forests of Macedonia, knowing the only thing he could possibly run into was a bear. And running into bears was fun for the Sun God, as archery usually is. How is the God of archery missing his shots? Anakin was lost, although he’d never admit it.

His slender fingers traced the grass, memorizing each blade's touch as he became increasingly fascinated with the Greek world. He brushed back his chestnut locks with his free hand, letting his eyes close as he breathed in the mortal air surrounding him. Greece was better than Olympus; it was his missing piece.

Things hadn’t been the same lately. Worshippers had died down at Delphi, and his typical “appear in their dreams nightmare route” wasn’t going so smoothly either. And now he’s struggling to make a shot? Could he even call himself a God, much less his father’s favorite?

Annoyed with his thoughts, Anakin summoned a fig to his hand, biting deeply into it- just for the taste. He chewed slowly, letting the juices run from his lips, down his chin, and onto his golden armor. And that was another amazing thing the Greek world had- fucking figs.

“Why so down, my friend?” Anakin’s eyes shot open out of his trance to meet his favorite rival, Obi-Wan Kenobi, God of Passion. Anakin’s fingers swiftly moved the arrow off the target behind him, not wanting Kenobi to catch his failure.

“How did you find me?” He stood up abruptly, dropping the fig onto the grass he was tracing before. His fists balled at his sides. Typically, they got along pretty okay, but with Anakin’s meandering mind, he was the last God he needed to see.

“Oh, you know, I just followed the foul stench of arrogance and failure into the Greek world. By the way, how would Zeus react if you were practicing down here, hm? Letting your talents go to waste, and possibly seen by mortals, not to mention-”

“Alright, Obi-Wan, I get it. You’ve made your point. What do you want?” Anakin watches as Obi-Wan’s smile grows before him, and a sinking feeling fills his chest.

“You don’t need to hide your failure from me, Anakin.” Obi-Wan lips turn into a smirk, watching as Anakin’s temper began to get the best of him once again.

“Obi-Wan, I’d be careful. I am Anakin, God of the sun, The All-father’s first-born son, and I will kick your ass all the way back to Olympus any fucking day. Try me. If I were you, I’d choose your next words carefully.” Anakin towers over Obi-Wan, his remarks laced with venom as he observes the smile grow on the God before him.

“I heard your worshippers are waning at Delphi. And now you’re missing your shots… Gods, Anakin, are you no longer Zeus’s favorite? What is going on with you?”

With Obi-Wan suggesting Anakin’s worst nightmare, Anakin had him up against the fig tree in seconds, his hands pulling up at his toga as rage coursed through his golden blood. His eyes searched Kenobi’s, watching the amusement dance within them. What was his game? What could he possibly want?

“Watch your fucking mouth, Kenobi. I’ll send your ass right down to Hades, and Zeus will not come to your aid again. There’s a reason I’m more powerful than you. What the fuck do you need love for when you can be God of the Sun? Zeus’s favored son? Huh? There’s a fucking reason I am celebrated more than you are. I don’t see your temples taking over the Greek world. I don’t see you massively worshipped-”

“Oh please, Anakin, they worship Ahsoka as much as they worship you. She’s your twin sister and equally on par with you despite being a goddess.” Anakin pulls a fist back and sends it flying into Kenobi’s jaw, watching as his golden blood pours from his nose and down his chin. Anakin grinned.

“Fucking watch it. That was the last comment you’re going to be making in a long, long time.” As Anakin pulls back his fist, Obi-Wan’s hands go up in defeat, signaling the white flag Anakin is looking for.

“How do you feel about a little wager?” He whispers, a hint of fear present in his voice as he watches Anakin’s golden eyes narrow at his proposition.

“And why the fuck would I do that, Kenobi, when sending you to Hades is just as easy?”

“Because I know you can’t resist a chance to prove yourself to be better than me.”

“Okay,” Anakin loosens his grip on Kenobi, letting him fall against the fig tree as he backs up and crosses his arms, “And what would this wager consist of? And make it quick- before I change my mind and punish you regardless.”

“Best of 3 shots. If you win, you can punish me as you deem necessary. If I win, well, how about we keep your punishment a surprise?” Obi-Wan pushes himself off the tree, summoning his bow and arrow in his hands as Anakin bites his lip skeptically.

“That’s too- No- what’s the catch?”

“If I win, you have to fall in love- no exceptions.”

“That’s it? Deal. This is too fucking easy.” Anakin shakes his head, picking up his golden bow and tracing the olive branch details on the upper limb.

“May Zeus be on your side, Anakin.” Kenobi holds out his hand for Anakin to shake, sealing their wager.

Anakin takes his hand, his grip firm, letting the eyes of his father, high up in Olympus, confirm the bet.

“You first, Obi-Wan.” Anakin chuckles, picking up an arrow and sharpening the end of it while Obi-Wan takes his stance in front of the tree, his shoulders relaxed, and eyes focused on the target in front of him.

Instant bullseye. Lucky shot.

Anakin says nothing, instead taking his place and shooting without hesitation.

Another instant bullseye. This was going to be closer than he thought.

Anakin’s eyes squint as he watches Kenobi make another bullseye. It’s now 2-1. Since when did Kenobi get so good at archery? Anakin shoots another bullseye, but it’s close, too close. He watches as Kenobi’s brows furrow slightly, his frustration growing alongside Anakin’s arrogance. Did he really think the God of archery would lose a challenge as simple as this?

Obi-Wan shoots his final shot.

Instant Bullseye. Fuck.

He turns around, placing his bow on his back and grinning at the angry God before him.

“May Zeus be on your side, old friend.” He repeats that phrase, eager to remind Anakin what was at stake. As he approaches Anakin to shake his hand, he grins as Anakin dodges it and steps up to the mark.

“Save it, Kenobi. I’m too excited to hear what Hades will do with you after this.”

As Anakin grips his bow, his hands are filled with sudden apprehension. He missed the shot just before Kenobi got here, and his last two were practically just luck, and- Actually, what the fuck is he even on about? He’s the God of archery, for fucks sake. Some measly love God wasn’t going to take this easy victory from him. No way. Anakin pulled an arrow from the sling on his back, letting it sit comfortably between his fingers as he lined up his shot. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his fingers do the work.

And with one swift motion of Obi-Wan’s wrist from behind him, Anakin tripped over a rock.

Miss.

“Wha- I- How? What the fuck did you do?” Anakin turned around, storming over to Kenobi who had his hands innocently raised in the air as he backed away from the angry God once again.

“I did nothing, Anakin. You lost, plain and simple.” Before Anakin had time to react, Obi-Wan’s bow was out again, this time with a red-tipped arrow.

The arrow slipped between Kenobi’s fingers, flying across the grass and into Anakin’s shoulder. He gasped, not in pain, but at the audacity of the God before him.

“Kenobi, this better not be one of your special arrows, or I swear to Zeus-” He grips the arrows, pulling it out of his skin, letting his golden blood drip onto his armor.

“Her name is Y/N. You can find her along the River Lamos. Good luck, old friend.”

And with that, he was gone.

—------------------------------

“Padme! These fucking mortals are pissing in the water again! I mean, how do they even find us out here? This is the furthest north they’ve gone in quite some time.” You let your knees hit the grass, running your fingers through the stream to purify the waters.

Sometimes, you quite hated being a Naiad. It had the perks of a goddess, but not quite the status. And Zeus forbid you ever tried to compare yourselves to a Goddess…

“Y/N, honey, have you ever tried to talk to a mortal? They aren’t the brightest. It’s not their fault Zeus made them that way.” Padme emerges from the waterfall behind you, offering her condolences as she places her hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe we should pray to Ahsoka and have her punish them.”

“Y/N! Don’t be harsh.” Padme’s jaw drops in fake shock, rolling her eyes as she joins you along the riverbed. “Besides, I heard Dionysis is throwing another rager tonight. Let’s focus on that.”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumble, picking up a rock and skipping across the water, avoiding the lilies that littered the surrounding stream.

Padme had always grounded you. You’d probably be lost without her. When you escaped your father as a child, Padme stuck by you in your request for freedom. Your new life, though promising, never quite managed to fill the void that had been there all along. As a Naiad, you felt the weight of responsibility for the ancient world, but the path laid before you was far from what you imagined. Your life was filled with adoration from cult leaders, lavish ceremonies, and the occasional taste of royalty on Mount Olympus - but an emptiness lingered within you. Something that trivial worship and sacrifice wouldn’t fulfill.

“Padme,” you pulled your hand from the water, picking a dandelion next to you and observing it. “Do you ever think about what our life would have been like if we never left Father?” She sighs.

“Y/N, if you’re questioning our decision, let me assure you, we made the right choice. To disobey the calling of such passion… well, I’d rather not debate it. Have honor in what we do, Y/N. We are irreplaceable.” Padme smiles gently at you, the sun bouncing off her chocolate eyes in a particularly irresistible way.

A forced grin stretched across your face, a desperate attempt to conceal your disdain for her reply. Padme had a knack for finding the silver lining - always seeing the good in people and situations, even when things seemed bleak. But it didn’t make the feeling disappear from within you. Every day was the same. The same taking care of the rivers and the forests. The same cults and sacrifices and worships and prayers and celebrations. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but the truth was undeniable: you felt utterly lonely. You had Padme, but she was your sister, and she was supposed to be there. But as much as it ached you to say… You wanted a lover.

As a devotee of Ahsoka, the Goddess of the Hunt, you pledged your loyalty to her with a sacred vow. To remain pure. Sure, it was silly and not very feminist-positive of Ahsoka, but she was an Olympian. The Olympians were traditional in their ways. And that was something you had to deal with. Or workaround. Ahsoka was stubborn, much like her younger twin brother Anakin, but even though she was a woman, she was treated with the utmost respect and equality. You found yourself constantly drawn to her, admiring her strength and resilience. Every opportunity you had, you would go to her temples, offering your devotion and respect with each visit.

Snap.

Your heads snapped around in unison, your hearts pounding, as you braced for the appearance of an unfortunate mortal who had unknowingly interrupted you. However, standing behind you, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun, was none other than the Sun God himself, Anakin.

“Anakin! Your majesty, to what honor do we have to be graced with your presence?” Padme’s words were honey to your ears, and she quickly pulled you down into a curtesy next to you.

“I came for a Naiad by the name of Y/N.” Your heart dropped. Fuck. “I wish to seek her hand.” Padme turned to you, her eyes wide along with your slacked jaw. What the fuck was happening?

The first thing you noticed was his smile. A self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face, the kind that made his whole body seem to radiate arrogance. Sure, he was attractive; he was an Olympian, after all, but there was something about him you couldn’t stand. There was no mistaking the pretentiousness. You had pictured him with golden hair, but his hair was a surprising chestnut brown, the curls soft and unruly, framing his face like a halo of warm sunlight. The intricate details of his armor were impressive, reminding you of his sister’s. And when your eyes met his, you saw that same hollow emptiness in his gaze, reflecting the void you carried within. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ruin it by opening his mouth.

“Go!” Padme whisper-shouted next to you, pushing you forward.

“Your majesty,” You cringed at your words.

“Anakin.” He mused, his smirk growing as his eyes lingered on your form. Your wet dress suddenly felt a lot wetter tighter.

“Anakin,” You faked a smile, purely out of fear of what you’d do next. “As much as I am flattered by your offer, I made a sacred vow to your sister that I plan to uphold. I do apologize. I am honored to be considered by you.” He nodded slowly, his smile widening and his eyes holding something mischievous within them.

“You know, Nymph,”

“Naiad- I mean, Y/N.” You stuttered. Padme’s eyes widen as she stomps your foot to shut you up.

“Y/N,” he winks and leans closer, his breath hot on your cold, wet cheek as his mouth is centimeters from your ear. “Normally, I would take what is mine. But you are lucky to be in favor with my sister, and that I love a good challenge. We will see just how much longer you will remain pure, my muse. You are the most beautiful creature I’ve had the privilege of laying my immortal eyes on, and I plan to have you.”

You freeze. A challenge? Who the hell did he think he was?

But before you had time to say anything else stupid, he was gone.

“Are you fucking CRAZY?” Padme grabs you, shaking your body, “You just rejected THE Anakin. Ahsoka’s brother. That’s, like, probably, the only pass you’d ever get not to remain pure. You should have taken it! And Y/N, you cannot speak to him like that! You’re lucky he didn’t just take you with him as prisoner or send you to Hades-”

“Padme! Come on, you heard him. He likes a challenge. It’s obvious that this is far from over.” You trailed off, your mind uneasy at the thought.

Realistically, you had to weigh the pros and cons.

Pros: He was hot. It would give you a higher status. You could have a family. You could be closer with Ahsoka. It would fill the void within you. He could possibly be a good person, maybe even a good lover. He could be the best sex you’d ever had.

Cons: It was Anakin. He’s arrogant and everything you could dislike in a lover. He could potentially ruin your relationship with Ahsoka and create an eternal enemy that would end your life as you know it. He could ruin your life. He could be the best sex you’d ever had.

Fuckkkkkkkkk.

Week after week, Anakin shows unwavering resolve in his pursuits.

The first week, he’d occasionally drop by, leaving nothing but wine and flowers and his sweet, sweet words.

“I’d do anything to make you mine, Y/N. Just one chance.”

“Please, you’re the love of my immortal life. I want nothing but to spend the rest of eternity with you.”

“I can’t get enough of watching you. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Let me be yours, please. I’m so in love with you. It’s killing me.”

Eventually, you began to play along. You loved how his eyes would light up when you gave him hope, but the return of his arrogant smile when you turned him down again made you roll your eyes.

The admission, though loathsome, was undeniable: you were falling for him. You gotta give it to him- consistency was key. But did the cons outweigh the pros? The situation was tricky, and not ideal. If only he were a dumb mortal and not Zeus’s favorite son. And not the brother of a God you’ve spent your entire life worshipping and having a precious oath, too. If only.

The second week saw the gifts become more intense, each one a thrilling surprise. He brought you a beautiful cat, along with some flowers from Olympus to plant near the river. The gesture was sweet, the cat was cute, and the flowers were divine, literally. Although you were tempted, you held your ground, and your answer was a firm, unwavering no.

Anakin's patience was wearing thin by week three, his annoyance growing with each passing day. He thought he had given you everything you could have desired as a river nymph, showering you with gifts that would make any naiad happy. As someone he hoped to share his life with, he offered his heart and devotion. Even though he tried, you were still refusing his advances. He didn’t take you as one for material goods, but who was he to judge? So, he began leaving you jewelry that was unlike anything you'd ever seen, intricate pieces that captured the essence of nature and water in every detail. And, of course, they were all gold. The necklace he had given you was his favorite, a simple gold sun pendant suspended on a chain, worn close to your heart.

“Do you like it, my love?” Anakin held the necklace in your hands, watching your smile grow beneath him.

“Anakin- I- It’s beautiful. I love it. I’ve never owned anything quite like this before.” You smiled up at him, the sunlight reflecting in your eyes in such a way that he’d drown if he looked for too long.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” He whispered, his eyes trailing from your own down to your lips.

“Yes,” You whispered back, allowing him to turn you around and move your hair.

His fingers moved slowly across the back of your neck, their light touch sending shivers down your arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, and much to your own surprise, you let out a soft moan against his touch. His presence behind you was heavy with insolence, and even though you couldn't see him, you could practically feel his smug grin on the back of your head. He laid the necklace against your chest, and you instinctively reached your hand up to touch it, only to be met with his own as he pulled you closer.

“Y/N,” He groaned softly, resting his forehead upon your shoulder, “Please. I’m in agony.” You hummed against him, leaning back onto his chest as the sunlight washed over your wet skin.

“Ani, I can’t. You know this, baby.” You turned around to face him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for the necklace- I really love it. You’ve been so kind to me.”

He smiled back at you and was gone once again.

During week four, his presence dwindled. He came only a couple of days, mostly just to bring you offerings. This time, he started leaving little love notes instead of his usual visits you had become accustomed to.

My muse,

Every day I do not spend with you is tortuous. You are everything to me. You are the air I breathe, the Sun I worship, the light bringer of my life. I did not know love could be so powerful, so intoxicating, just like you. To me, you are love. You are the physical representation of everything I have ever wanted from this life. I’d give it all up for you. Olympus doesn’t matter if it means I could have you. And if it’s my sister you are worried about, I would have it handled. I would keep you safe and spend the rest of eternity loving you, worshipping you, and making you happy and fulfilled. Please just give me a chance, darling; that is all I ask. I feel ashamed for not coming to see you in person, but I couldn’t bear to look at you. It has only brought me pain and suffering as of late. I know it is not your fault, but you are all I want. I’m not giving up on you yet, but I feel as if maybe some distance would help you. Perhaps I’ve come on too strongly. Too confident. And if it means changing who I am to have you, consider it done.

With love for eternity,

Your Anakin.

As you held the letter in your hands, you barely noticed how your hands shook, and your body trembled. You didn’t see how you instinctively brought the letter to your heart, holding it close as stray tears cascaded down your face. And you certainly didn’t notice Padme’s presence; her soft touch was comforting on your arm as she appeared behind you.

“Honey, you should give him a chance. He’s really trying. I don’t know what that letter says, but for it to evoke that reaction from you, it must be genuine. Unless he plans to kill me or our father, then maybe not so-”

The hug you gave her was warm and tight, a genuine embrace she hadn't felt from you in years. She held you close, the heat from the sun radiating off of the both of you and sending you into more of a frenzy than ever. Even though you couldn't see him, you knew Anakin was watching, and the feeling of his intensity was a constant presence. You felt a strange indifference, a lack of concern that surprised even you. But you just wanted to feel.

By week five, Anakin had stopped appearing altogether, but his presence was still there. Maybe it was when you healed the water, or took care of the plants, or gave an offering to Ahsoka, but it always felt like he was standing right there next to you, offering a helpful hand in your tasks. It seemed that he was beginning to fill that void inside of you. And as much as you desperately wanted that, now that you were so close to having it, the idea terrified you.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” You quietly asked as Padme lit a candle, preparing for another ritual.

“Would you grab the wine and pour the libation, Y/N? I’m afraid we must move on with this for right now.” She smiled gently, attempting to lighten your mood. It didn’t work. The last thing you wanted to do was worship his sister.

As much as you hated it, you did as you were told. You headed further into the cave you and Padme made into the oasis you called home. As you turned the corner into your private quarters, you noticed the wine stacked by your “bed.”

As you and Padme ventured out and stumbled upon your own Oasis, you both set out to personalize it, infusing it with your own unique touch, making it a place you could truly call your own. The cave behind the waterfall was a breathtaking sight - lush green plants carpeted the floor around the river, colorful creatures flitted through the air, and the soft glow of candles danced off the shimmering crystals. The river ran through the cave, a constant source of fresh water, offering a home for you and your sister amidst the silent stone. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. But, as sisters, you both still needed your privacy, so it was made sure that you both had your own private sectors of the cave. Your quarters were filled with treasures you collected from the forest - musical instruments, shiny jewelry, beautiful dresses, furniture in both perfect and broken states, and writing tools. You even brought back random knick-knacks that you saw potential in. One mortal's trash is another Naiad’s treasure.

The sight of the wine on the stool made your stomach churn, as you thought about the God who had given it to you. Would it be weird to worship Ahsoka with the wine her brother declared his love to you over? Probably. You weren’t willing to risk it. Your fingers danced across the cool glass of the bottle, remembering the warmth of his hands as he placed it in yours. Honestly, what was wrong with you? This was wrong. You knew that. You couldn’t possibly love Anakin. And he couldn’t possibly love you. Anakin could have any woman, goddess, nymph, and mortal alike, so why would he choose you out of everyone?

Against all odds, he did. And he kept doing it. His absence had sparked a flicker of doubt within you. And as hard as it was to admit, you missed him.

—----------------------

“Obi-Wan, I cannot do this any longer. She doesn’t love me. Please, take my misery away from me.”

Anakin wasn’t himself. Obi-Wan could see that. Even though it seemed impossible for an immortal being to have bags under his eyes, Anakin somehow managed it. He looked rough. He looked sad. And Obi-Wan genuinely felt for him.

“Tell me more,” Obi-Wan leans back against his chair, stroking his beard as he watched the God fall apart in front of him.

“It seems that nothing has worked. I’ve tried to win her over with lavish gifts, these grand gestures of love. I’ve written her letters, given her space, and told her how I felt- how much I loved her. It-It’s not enough. She doesn’t want me. In all of my years as a God, I have finally found a worthy opponent. And this is a battle I will not win. It is a battle I will never win. I have finally been defeated. Y/N has taken my heart, and I will let her do it a thousand times more for the eternity that we live. My heart belongs to her and her only. She has filled a void within me that I never thought would disappear.” Anakin sits down in the chair beside Obi-Wan, throwing his head into his hands. He lifts his head up to look at the man beside him, and Obi-Wan instantly freezes.

Anakin was crying. The Anakin. Was. Crying. He had never been so deeply affected by anyone before, and the weight of his newfound emotions pressed down on him heavily. Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt, realizing that his attempt to teach Anakin a lesson had inadvertently caused him immense pain.

But Anakin passed Obi-Wan’s test with flying colors. The deal was that you couldn’t truly fall for Anakin until he finally let go of his pride and broke down the defenses he'd spent years erecting. Only once you have allowed him to be vulnerable and show his authentic self, could you begin to love him back. To see him for what he truly was, yes, he was a god, but he was still a man. A man who had fallen deeply in love with you. A man who was heartbroken, and finally admitted defeat. He had met his match.

“I think you should visit her one last time, Anakin. Maybe say your goodbyes. I’m very sorry I put you through this, old friend.” Obi-Wan flashed him a small smile, earning a nod in response.

“Actually, no need to apologize. You’ve taught me a valuable lesson. For years, I thought that I could never be beaten, and that I was better than anyone, and now I see that even I have challenges I cannot overcome. I have been arrogant. Selfish. And I am truly sorry. Now that I have felt true pain, I cannot imagine the suffering I have caused. I will visit her one last time. She needs to know how she has changed me.”

—-------------------------

The pre-dawn darkness had settled in when Padme left for the meeting on Mount Olympus, the air heavy with anticipation and the rustle of the wind through the trees. What it concerned, you had no idea. But she was always into politics like that, and you respected her for it. She was driven, and despite only being a Naiad, she made sure that her voice was heard and that she spoke for those around her.

You sat along the riverbed, the gentle sound of the water rippling over stones a constant companion, watching as the morning sun rising reflected off of the water and the lilies that lined your stream. The Greek world was so beautiful, and you were so glad that you were able to experience it. You watched the frogs, green and plump, hop from pad to pad, their croaks blending with the splash of the fish swimming in synchronized schools, their scales glinting like silver coins. It was peaceful, and you were thankful for it.

Before you could think about him, you felt him.

“Anakin,” You whispered, feeling his presence behind you. Your eyes began to feel heavy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I am here to say goodbye, my love.” He mumbled from behind you, not daring to move an inch.

“Would you sit with me?” you mumbled, keeping your gaze on the lilies, scared to show your solemn face. He slowly sat next to you, with more space between you than you would have liked.

‘I’m sor-”

“Anakin, I have fallen for you. You have won me over. But, I must admit, I am apprehensive because my loyalty lies with your sister, and I do not want my life to be ruined. I’ve heard too many stories of nymphs falling for a God and being destroyed in the process. I cannot give up my life up like that, and I will not. So, if you truly love me as you say, I need to to swear to me and your father that you will love me and only me for eternity, that you will never abandon me, and that you will give me the family and life that I deserve.” You finally turn your head to face him, your eyes welled with tears as he gazed upon your face, memorizing your features.

“Y/N, I swear upon every God, Goddess, Nymph, Demi-God, and whatever else out there that I will love you for eternity. That you will always have me. And I will continue to show my love, be there for you, and treat you as you deserve. You are priceless and my life as a God means nothing without you.”

You didn’t give him a response, no, he finally deserved a kiss. The one he had been waiting so patiently for.

You pressed your lips fervently against his, eagerly exploring his mouth with your tongue, while your hands became entwined in his hair. Letting out a gentle moan, he deepened the kiss, reveling in the sensation that he never wanted to end. He tasted like figs, sweet and savory, a flavor you could taste for eternity. His tongue eagerly explored yours, a silent struggle for control as he sought to please you. His hand grazed your cheek, holding you against him as if you were a second away from disappearing.

His touch traveled down your neck, finally arriving at your damp, clothed chest, where he tenderly held your breasts, his thumb moving in circular motions on your nipple. Now, it was your turn to moan.

“Baby,” He broke the kiss, holding your forehead against his as you both attempted to catch your breath. You were apprehensive. You had never done this before, and Anakin was intimidating. “Hey, look at me. It’s just me. Let me take care of you- make you feel good. Does that sound okay?”

You looked up to meet his blue eyes, his blown pupils staring into your soul, overflowing with adoration. You nodded slowly in response, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Can I hear you say it, darling?” He whispered against your lips as he peppered small kisses on your cheek and down your chin, reaching your neck. His kisses seared your skin like the sun, feeling warm and holy.

“Anakin, I need you to make me feel good. Please.” You whimpered under his touch, the warmth in between your legs growing wetter by the second. The desperation gnawed at you, a constant hunger that wouldn't be satisfied. You needed Anakin to take what was his- immediately.

He falls on top of you, his weight a welcome force as you pull him down. His kisses rain down on your neck, hot and needy, while his fingers trace the curves of your body, each touch a possessive claim. He presses himself into you ever so slightly, and you moan at the sensation between your legs.

His hand finds its way down your hips, inching closer and closer towards where you really needed it. With a mischievous grin, he carefully pulls up your wet lace dress before planting another sloppy, wet kiss on your lips. Your hands tighten on his shoulders, your breath hitching in your throat as his fingers slowly dance up your legs. His hand snakes up your thighs, rubbing them and pinching them as he continues to control your kiss, his tongue deliberate and delicate against yours. His hand slips under your top and then under the neckline of your dress, teasingly massaging your breasts and nipples. It was an overwhelming feeling, and his bulge growing between your legs didn’t help at all.

Anakin pauses, and you sense a shift in the air, a prickling sensation that raises goosebumps on your arms. You’d never been this close to anyone before. You’ve never let someone touch you in a spot so sacred, so holy. Letting Anakin feel this part of you, touch every inch of your body, it was a new ritual on its own. One you weren’t familiar with. But as a Naiad, you had a duty to uphold. You needed to worship.

‘Do you trust me?” He whispers against your lips, pulling you out of your moment of ecstasy.

“Yes.”

“I will take such good care of you. I’m going to make you feel so good, my love. It may hurt at first, but I need you to trust me. Do you want me to touch you, angel?” You nodded in response, letting out a giggle and soft smile at his sweet words.

“Of course, Ani. Please.” You practically whimpered, watching as his smile grew into the familiar, arrogant one you had met all those weeks ago.

Anakin's hand slowly moves up to your throbbing clit, his fingers gently exploring your wetness, teasing a response from you. He had you completely under his control. It was a foreign feeling, the way he touched you, and yet all you could do was subconsciously push yourself against his fingers, begging for more. Anakin was eager to memorize you. The things that made you feel good, made you squirm, made you moan, and most importantly- made you cum.

“Such a needy thing, aren’t you? Just needed me to take care of you so bad. Needed me to take away that innocence and purity you held above my head for weeks.”

Before you could respond, his thumb aggressively pressed into your clit, rubbing soft circles that evoked noises from you that you didn’t know were possible. You push yourself into him further, laying your head upon his shoulder as you sit upright, suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure he is giving you. A new fluttering sensation found itself below your stomach, feeling hotter and hotter by the second. The pressure keeps building, as Anakin picks up the pace, watching you with determined, golden eyes. You clutch his arm tighter, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Ani- I-” You barely gasped out, the knot in your stomach tightening as you were getting closer and closer to coming undone. As he worked his thumb against your clit faster, he felt the way you grew wetter underneath his touch, the way your hips bucked against him, and the way your legs shook underneath him. He let it go straight to his ego and dick.

“Yeah, angel? You like that? You gonna cum for me now?” He smirks.

“Anakin, I-” Before you knew it, he pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them up against that sweet spot where you didn’t know you needed it most, sending you over the edge. You feel every inch of his fingers against your walls, feeling so stuffed to the brim you burst. Your body convulses beneath him, and his moans mix with yours, both overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm.

“That’s perfect, just like that baby. You’re doing so good, can’t wait until it’s my cock inside you, making you cum and moan like that. Look at how perfect you are. So fucking beautiful.” He mumbles into your ear as he continues to work his fingers faster through your orgasm, practically torturing you with his touch.

You called his name like a prayer, worshiping him as you would any other God. He gave you more than they ever could, and you couldn’t help but moan his name into a new hymn you’d gladly sing over and over again. When you finally come down, he removes his fingers and licks them slowly in front of you, showing how much he truly worships you.

“Fuck, I need to get a taste.” He aggressively pushes your body down against the grass, lifting your dress and pulling your hips against his face.

He licks a long stripe up the side of your thigh, relishing in how loud it’s already making you moan. You feel him smirk against you once again as he places a sloppy, wet kiss against your folds. He licks a stripe down your center, and you instantly get goosebumps as you whimper and whine underneath him. Anakin doesn’t care, no, Anakin wants to make sure you savor every touch, lick, and kiss he has to offer. He flicks his tongue against your clit, slow and deliberately, wanting to feel your reaction against his tongue. Once again, you only grew wetter and he only grew more famished. He finally starts at an increasingly slow pace as he laps against your folds, not giving it to you where you really need it.

To Anakin, licking your clit was the nourishment he didn’t realize he missed. He had never truly been satisfied until his tongue was in between your legs, slowly savoring every fold and taste, never wanting to leave.

“A-Ani, please, I-I need it!” He pauses.

“You don’t know what you need, Angel.” He finally picks up the pace, lapping at your clit at an unrelentless pace, feeling you squirm underneath him. It was overwhelming, and you were bound to cum again any second with the way he was abusing your poor, poor pussy. Finally, the warmth returned, increasing the tension that had been building, and the knot felt like it might unravel any minute. You feel yourself on the edge; just a couple more flicks of his tongue and-

Anakin pulls away, coming over from under you with a wet mouth and nose, a sweet smile spread across his face as he pulls you against his lips.

“You taste so good, yeah? You taste that? Fucking incredible. I could drink you all fucking day.” He mumbles as he continues to hungrily kiss you, his hands holding you down as if you’d escape from him at any second.

As he lifts you upright, his arms effortlessly strip off your dress, leaving you completely exposed. His eyes danced across your skin, tracing every curve and line, drawn to the intoxicating glow your body had in his sunlight. He unconsciously started taking his own clothes off, his eyes never leaving your panting, wet figure beneath him.

As soon as his cock sprung out, you felt your breath catch in your throat. He was fucking huge. His cock was long, thick, and veiny, a beautiful pink color that would fill you up so good. He stroked it in his hands slowly, and your eyes finally made their way back to his, your mouth slightly agape in shock. He smiled at you sweetly, his hand never leaving his cock as he started to stroke a little faster, letting out a small moan as his eyes gazed upon your beautiful naked body on the riverbed.

“Come here beautiful, no need to be afraid. I’ll take such good care of you.” Anakin pulls you closer to him, positioning himself between your legs. He slaps the tip of his cock against your folds a couple of times, and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “This part is going to hurt a little bit, okay? I promise I will never ever hurt you, but this will sting. If you need me to stop, tell me. We can take this as slow as you want. Ready, Angel?”

You divert your attention from his cock outlining you to his eyes and his soft, sweet smile. It’s no wonder that you fell in love with him, truly. He was the better of the Gods, but it was so, so easy to fit him in with the rest. Were you worried he was going to taint you and then leave? Absolutely. Did you want to change anything about the moment?

“Yes, I’m ready. I’m nervous, but-“ You take a second to cup his cheek, letting yourself smile underneath him, “I trust you, Anakin.”

With your approval, Anakin slowly pushed his thick tip into your small, virgin pussy. He groaned at the contact, watching as you let out a painful, pleasurable moan from the feeling. He filled you so entirely, so completely, that the emptiness inside you vanished, replaced by a sense of wholeness you never thought possible. He grinned at the way his cock bulged from inside you, knowing that he was going to split you in half and make you scream his name again. He could never get enough of the way his name rolled off your tongue, the way you lingered on each syllable, your back arched in pleasure as you called out for him.

“H-How are we doing down there?” He barely groans out, tracing your cheek with his finger, “Fuck, I can barely contain myself right now.”

“I-I’m okay. It stings, but I want you to keep going- I need you to keep going.” You pull yourself up slightly, putting your hands around his shoulders and pulling him further into you. He was so deep, so intoxicating as he filled you up. You kiss him, burying your tongue down his throat to silence your painful moans. It hurt so bad, but you couldn’t get enough of him. You needed more.

“Fuck, Y/N, that was so fucking hot. Can I fuck you? Please? You feel too good.”

You could barely manage a whispered "yes" before Anakin thrust himself into you with full force, slamming his cock into your cervix. You let out a loud scream, never feeling so full and overwhelmed at the same time. With his free hand, he brought his thumb back down and massaged your clit in small, rhythmic circles, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

He made sure to keep checking on you as he fucked you relentlessly, watching how your head bobbed and your eyes rolled as you took him so good. You had heard stories about how “God sex” was another level, but you didn’t think it’d be this fucking good.

As he felt you grip around him tighter, he slowed down, suddenly wanting to take his time more than he had before. His eyes softened at the sight of you. Your cheeks flushed and tear-stained, your entire body wet and glistening under his sun, his own saliva dripping down your chin as you let out soft moans from his slow thrusts. You were mesmerizing, you deserved to be worshipped. And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“I want us to cum at the exact same time, okay? Solidify our bond together. I want us to reach that point together. You let me know exactly when you are going to cum.” He whispered against your lips, pumping his thick cock and holding back a groan.

The slowness of his movement was torturous, his brows furrowing as he watched you below him, each agonizing inch he pushed into you taking what felt like an eternity. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but he had a way of making you feel like the most incredible fucking thing in all of the Greek world. You look down and watch as his thick cock slowly pushes himself into you, memorizing his every vein and freckle. He continues to impale you over and over again, groaning and moaning your name like his own prayer. The squelching of your wetness and the way he moved his hips was making that pressure return from before, except it was seeking a vengeance this time.

Anakin picks up the pace as your cries grow louder, watching your body language and responding the best way he could. He played with your tits as they bounced from the forcefulness of his cock against your cervix. The knot in your stomach returned, the pressure building more and more- eager to explode.

And as you felt your orgasm coming on, your hips bucking up against his, your cries and moans increasing, you finally opened your eyes and looked at the God above you. The sun highlighted his face like it was made for him, his hair and eyes golden under the light. His collarbone and abs shimmered, a mixture of sweat and juices making him glisten above you. He really was a god, a beautiful and misunderstood creature who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. And in that moment, you’d give it to him.

“A-Anakin, I’m gonna- I-“

“That’s right, baby, I’m close too, push me over the edge, yeah? Make me fill you up so good and full with my Godly cum. You can do this, baby, please-“ He cut himself off with a groan, feeling your walls squeezing tighter against him, your body, golden from his sun, trembling underneath him.

“Ani- I- Fuck- I-I love you!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the band snapped and your walls were pulsating around him. Your moans were loud, your back arched into him as you heard him curse and groan from atop you, his cock cumming deep inside you, making you his, and making him yours. He memorized the tears as they streamed down your cheek from your orgasm, your eyes squeezed shut as you were filled to the brim with pure ecstasy.

Anakin pulled out, collapsing on the grass next to you as you both attempted to catch your breath.

“Y/N, y-your- that- that was the most fucking incredible experience I have ever had.” He barely breathed out, still coming down from the orgasm you gave him.

As you caught your breath, you rolled onto your side to look at him once again, the beauty of the sun god as he lay by your river.

“You aren’t leaving now, are you?” You whisper, your eyes solemn as you trace your initials on his chest.

“Never, baby. You’re stuck with me for eternity.” Anakin beamed at you, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he pulled you on top of him into another deep kiss.

“Wait, Ani-“ You pulled away, noticing eyes were etched with concern and you let out a little giggle, “I have something I wanted to give you. Since you’ve given me all of those gifts before and- well- I meant to give it to you earlier but we got so caught up in things.” You blush under his gaze, your nerves catching up to you as you thought about your gift.

“Angel, you didn’t have to do that. But I promise I will cherish whatever you give me for the rest of time. Lemme see.”

You stand up from beside him, watching as he lay naked against your riverbed as if he had always belonged there. Except now he did. Your cheeks flushed as you turned away from him to walk to the laurel tree, feeling his eyes on you.

Your hand reached up to a branch, pulling it from the tree and snapping it off, your heart aching at your actions. As you walked towards Anakin, the laurel branch transformed into a crown under your skilled hands, its leaves shimmering with the soft light of your Naiad magic.

“I wanted to give you a piece of me, because I know that you have other responsibilities and I won’t always get to see you.” You placed the crown upon his head, before taking his hands within yours, “That laurel tree made me pick this spot. It’s always been my favorite. This crown will never die, and the leaves will never fall, it is eternal- just like our love.”

A radiant smile spread across Anakin’s face as happy tears welled up in his eyes. He enveloped you in a tight hug, and you could feel the warmth of his affection. His fingers traced the contours of your back, a lingering touch, as he whispered his thanks, each word laced with a desperation that made your heart ache. It was strange how you got here, but yet you had found that missing piece. You didn’t expect him to be the God of the Sun, Zeus’s favorite, or anything like that. To you, he was just your Anakin. Your sweet, sweet Anakin.

“I thought I’d be searching for eternity throughout the Greek world for a love like this. And yet, you were brought to me.” Anakin pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as the weight of his words came down on the both of you, “Our love is eternal.”

“Our love is eternal.”

2K notes · View notes

hcneymooners · 11 days ago

Text

౨ৎ sometimes it’s nice to love an easy thing.

older!wnba!paige x older!wnba!azzi. men & minors dni.

synopsis: when basketball stars azzi fudd and paige bueckers, former best friends who drifted apart in the blur of fame and time, accidentally double-book the same coastal retreat, three years of missed connection dissolves into a week of devastating intimacy.

cw: implied burnout, no other warnings apply.

notes: just wrote something sweet and soft to release before i go home. this isn't edited, but i will come back later tonight to refine it. i hope you enjoy it anyway, and as always, feel free to let me know your thoughts in my inbox. i love you all so much. x

the idea was to be alone.

azzi had booked the airbnb on a whim, the way those who claimed to be only “comfortable” did when they became tired of being themselves. she was drained from the exhaustive labor of being one of america's most famous athletic names, a title she'd worked for and earned, but one that sat on her shoulders now like a sweater that didn't quite fit anymore.

the last straw was the drink deal she had to film a campaign for. she'd felt lifeless, listing between the bright plastic smile as she harped off the list of nutritional benefits for someone's rich cousin's kombucha that came in beautiful bottles and threatened to expand your “spiritual silo.” the studio had been all white walls and ring lights, the kind of sterile brightness that made everything feel like the inside of a surrealist art sketch.

as soon as the cameras had dropped, azzi's smile had dimmed, her wrists chirping like birds as her slew of cartier bracelets fell over one another and further down her arm. her personal assistant, a wonderful woman by the name of may, with a face that reminded her of someone else's memory of old hollywood glamour, had taken one look at her and booked a much-needed east coast holiday.

and now, azzi was driving her vintage land rover defender with the top down, tumbling along coastal roads at a speed that wasn't recommended but felt slower than the way she'd been living. the car was a deep forest green, the same as her long-sleeved shirt, as if it were constantly thinking of running off the road and becoming one of the trees. she had chosen to arrive in deceitful simplicity—everything she wore was at least a triple-figure price—and wrapped herself in solid colors and simple prints for her last-minute escape. still chic, still denoting her rank in life.

her curls were darker now, painstakingly maintained as she approached the end of her twenties, and streaked through with six-hundred-dollar highlights she felt did nothing for her face. just before she’d left the house, she’d pulled half of them up and away, then stuck her vintage, oversized chloé sunglasses into the mass and called it a day. she was sleek enough in other ways for it to be seen as an elle beauty section archetype, rather than being on the brink of losing her mind.

the leather weekender in her passenger seat was overstuffed, a week's worth of clothing thrown together in that careless way that only worked when everything you owned was beautiful. linen pants and silk camisoles, cotton sweaters soft as skin, all of it chosen by someone else, all of it perfectly her and not her at all. but this is who she was now; she had to come to terms at some point.

oceanic air whipped through the open car, carrying the promise of something she was unable to name. whatever it was, it was making her eyes sting. this was supposed to be healing, this week by the ocean. this was supposed to fix whatever had broken inside her during all those months of smiling for larger-than-life cameras and staging a rather convincing performance of enjoying her own life.

the house appeared through a break in the salt-heavy trees like something from a dream she'd had but never remembered fully. blue-gray shingles weathered to perfection, white trim catching the late afternoon light, an arched doorway that opened onto nothing but ocean beyond. it looked expensive in the way that most old money things did: effortless, delicately unpretentious, the kind of beauty that was careful to refrain from announcing itself because it didn't need to.

azzi pulled into the crushed shell driveway and cut the engine. the silence that followed felt different from the city quiet she was used to. not empty, but full. full of bird calls that were charming now but would annoy her later, and the distant crash of waves. the last time she’d been on this side of things was her college years. the thought made her chest tighten in a way she refused to indulge in.

she was reaching for her phone to text may and her parents that she'd arrived safely when she saw them: a pair of simple, lilac sneakers by the front door. not hers. too big. too clean. definitely not a color she would choose, but still—they felt more familiar than anything she owned.

her mouth twitched at the corners, moving neither up nor down but still indicative of her surprise.

again, the idea was to be alone. so the idea of sharing a home with a woman she hadn't spoken to in three years was not the ideal vacation.

there was no grief between them. that didn’t make it less hard.

things had gotten busy, things had fallen off. time had been too quick, and now azzi was looking at the figure who had slipped through the cracks in the rearview mirror of her life.

the screen door opened before azzi could decide whether to get out of the car or reverse back down the driveway and pretend this was all some horrible cosmic design. the kind of relaxed mistake that only felt good to people who believed in fate, which azzi had stopped doing somewhere between twenty-five and now.

paige bueckers emerged like she belonged there, like she'd been expecting this moment for years. she was wearing cargo shorts that should have looked ridiculous but didn't, a faded cotton tee that had seen better days paired with an oversized dallas hoodie that hung loose on her willowy frame, her blonde hair pulled back in that messy bun that had always made azzi's fingers itch to fix it.

her face was the same collection of angles and softness that had haunted azzi's peripheral vision for three years, such a sharp jaw and strong blue eyes that called back to a particular brand of american beauty that seemed as though it should be on a cereal box but had somehow transcended it.

she looked the same. she looked completely different. she looked like coming home and like a stranger all at once.

they stared at each other across the space between the car and the house, two women who had once known each other's breathing patterns, now separated by several feet and time and emotionally blank holiday messages.

paige's mouth opened, closed. her hands hung at her sides like she didn't know what to do with them.

paige bueckers was the greatest in many things: basketball, philanthropy, even a brief stint in fashion, to azzi's surprise, and whatever else she decided to pick up casually. but most importantly, she was the greatest (and arguably only) love of azzi's life.

there hadn't been a formal friendship breakup. just a quiet erosion, which had been more devastating than if they had mutually decided to call it quits. there was no fall, no fracture. only time, distance, the blur of planes and press cycles and everything but them.

azzi turned off the ignition and sat there for a moment, hands still on the steering wheel, watching paige watch her through the windshield. she hoped she looked beautiful and bothered. something to procure an appropriate level of emotion reserved for unexpected, grief-tinged collisions.

the late afternoon light caught in paige's hair, turning it golden at the edges and drawing azzi’s dark eyes to the state of her roots, and for a second azzi was twenty-two again, watching paige laugh at something stupid on her phone in a hotel room in phoenix, thinking this was it, this was what happiness looked like.

but she was tired now, bone-deep tired in a way that made everything feel both urgent and inevitable. so she opened the car door and stood, smoothing her hands down her jeans, and gave paige the softest, most tired smile she could manage.

“hey, p.”

the nickname fell from her lips like muscle memory, like breathing. paige's face cracked open, warped by surprise, then an open relief, before settling on something that looked dangerously close to joy.

“azzi,” paige said, and her voice carried across the space between them because america’s favorite cool girl had never learned to be anything but herself. “fuck, i—”

but she was already moving, crossing the driveway in quick strides, and before azzi could think about it, paige's arms were around her, pulling her into a hug that felt like coming up for air after being underwater for an indeterminate amount of time.

azzi breathed her in without meaning to. in her defense, it was instinct formed from the other times she’d been held like this. paige permeated azzi’s body in every sense of the word, skin thick with vanilla and something warm and spicy, the same scent that used to linger on their pillowcases, the same perfume that had haunted department stores for months after they'd stopped talking.

paige still smelled like home, like safety, like all the things azzi had convinced herself she could live without.

her weekender bag slipped from her shoulder, landing with a soft thud on the shells. neither of them moved to pick it up.

god, azzi thought, her face pressed into the crook of paige's neck, the norman fucking rockwell of it all.

when she pulled back, she found her face was wet.

the house was smaller inside than it looked from the driveway, but it was still a structural force of soft, off-white walls and bleached wood floors that creaked in the particular way that older homes did. her mother would like this, azzi thought, and she made a note to recommend it to her father for their next anniversary.

paige led her through rooms that smelled faintly of lemon oil and sodium, past windows that framed the ocean like paintings in a self-erected museum. azzi looked away from the hazy, blue smear of ocean and horizon and tuned back into paige’s predictable nervous rambling. she watched as the other woman twisted her thick, silver rings around her fingers as she tried to justify why she was walking alongside her former best friend—newly burst in.

well, she hadn’t burst. she hadn’t even snuck in really. there had always been an open space.

“the company says that their website glitched, and they accidentally overbooked. i can—”

azzi looked up, tilting her head to better catch paige’s eye, a perfectly plucked eyebrow raising with amusement.

“i promise you it’s fine, paige. i’m not going to contract some sort of disease from sharing a house with you for a week.”

“no, i know,” paige responded. “and it’s not like i have a problem being here with you either, i just—if you did feel uncomfortable, i would want you to feel like you could tell me. i know if i were shackled up with some random who wasn’t supposed to be here, especially given what i did, i would not stop until—”

“but paige,” azzi interrupted, “you aren’t random. and you haven’t done anything to me.”

paige stopped then, her face jerking oddly as if she was unsure of whether azzi meant it or was leading her on. azzi kept their eyes locked, brown on blue, earth on sky.

everything really was fine. which meant there was nothing more to say.

paige tugged nervously at a thin leather band around her wrist, and azzi felt her throat close for a brief moment. she’d bought her that during a shared family christmas in nashville. she wasn’t sure what touched her more: the idea that paige had never gotten rid of it, or the fact that she deemed it important enough to wear in her everyday life.

“so,” paige said, stopping in front of a closed door, her hand hovering over the handle. “there's kind of a situation.”

azzi’s brow furrowed, her hands still wrapped along the top of her weekender as if to arm herself against a hidden onslaught.

“the other bedrooms are closed off for renovations or something. the listing said it was a one-bedroom setup.” paige's cheeks went pink in that way they always were when she was embarrassed. “i can sleep on the couch, obviously, it's not—”

“paige.” azzi's voice was softer than she'd intended. “it's fine.”

the bedroom was beautiful in an understated coastal way: white linens, pale blue walls, french doors that opened onto a small balcony overlooking the water. there was one king bed, rumpled on one side where paige had clearly been sleeping, and a dresser with drawers half-open, spilling paige's clothes like loose secrets.

“they have extra sheets,” paige said suddenly, moving toward a closet with a new rush of nervous energy. “they left a list of inventory for the house in a binder, along with the wi-fi and stuff. i know you like to change them when you stay. to feel clean. ‘s not a big deal f’me to change them.”

azzi smiled then, small but genuine. finally, paige had let go of that ridiculously polite tone of voice and was speaking as she always had.

“there you are,” azzi said. “i thought maybe you had been body snatched. didn’t hear a single ‘bro’ in the first five minutes of you talking.”

paige laughed, her face lighting up with what azzi knew to be relief. “sorry, you just look a little different. didn’t know if i needed to be too.”

azzi let her bag hit the floor gently. “i always liked you as you were.”

the words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of being known. azzi's chest seemed to shrink as she turned back to the bed. three years of barely-there connection, and paige still remembered something so small, so specific to her particular anxieties about unfamiliar spaces.

“thank you,” azzi said quietly. “for thinking of me.”

they made the bed together without talking about it. paige stripped the old sheets with efficient movements while azzi unpacked the crisp white ones from their packaging, and then they were on opposite sides of the mattress, tucking corners with the kind of synchronized precision that came from muscle memory.

when paige reached across to smooth a wrinkle near azzi's side, their hands brushed. neither of them pulled away immediately.

paige opened the top drawer of the dresser, pushed her own things to one side, and gestured for azzi to fill the empty space. it was such a small thing, making room, but azzi's throat went tight watching paige's fingers carefully arrange her t-shirts to give azzi half the drawer.

“we should probably get groceries,” paige said when azzi had finished unpacking, her voice too bright. “there's literally nothing here except, like, stale crackers and some whiteclaws i bought.”

“whiteclaws?” azzi repeated, her voice swollen with disbelief. “you are almost thirty.”

“almost being the key word,” paige said, already walking down the hall. “besides, if it tastes good, imma buy it.”

azzi covered her mouth, forcefully keeping the rising laugh behind her teeth.

the land rover felt different with paige in the passenger seat. smaller, charged with the particular tension of two people trying very hard to act normal. paige had changed into a bamboo-thread button-down and swapped her lilac sneakers for white converse. she slunk down in the passenger seat, her legs widening as she got comfortable, and the image of it made azzi grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

the road wound through pine trees and past houses that got progressively smaller as they drove inland, away from the mostly empty, marine estates and toward something more lived-in. paige had rolled her window down, and the wind whipped her blonde hair around her face as she talked, a curtain made white by the mouth of the sun.

“—and then the whole team got food poisoning from this sushi place in dallas, which was honestly hilarious in retrospect, but at the time i thought coach was going to literally murder us. oh, and did you know that jana is engaged to someone now? this guy from her job. he’s pretty chill but—"

“p.” azzi's voice cut through the stream of words, gentle but firm. “one thing at a time.”

paige blinked, her mouth still half-open on whatever she'd been about to say next. “sorry. i'm being—sorry.”

“you're nervous,” azzi said, glancing at her before turning her attention back to the road. “it's okay. i'm nervous too.”

the admission seemed to deflate some of the tension in the car. paige slumped back in her seat, no longer talking at breakneck speed.

“it's weird, right?” paige said finally. “being here. together.”

“yeah,” azzi agreed. “it's weird. and i wish it wasn’t.”

but it’s not bad that it was, she didn't say. it wasn’t unwelcome. but it was more uncomfortable than she would’ve liked, the kind that came from realizing that some people lived inside of you even when they weren't in your life, even when you'd convinced yourself you'd moved on.

the grocery store was one of those small green markets that catered to a certain selection of summering customers. the shelves were stocked with organic everything, and the wine selections consisted of bottles that cost more than most people spent on groceries in a week. the patrons all were versions of the same thing: bare-faced, blowouts, subtle tweaks via non-invasive procedures azzi had booked and unbooked, tight smiles so that they didn’t seem rude, but also used to ask you to move along.

azzi smiled back in the same way because she wanted the same thing.

she grabbed a cart, and paige fell into step beside her, close enough that their arms brushed when they turned corners.

“so,” paige said, reaching for a bag of expensive-looking pasta. “tell me more about the kombucha thing. that sounded…”

“horrible?” azzi supplied, and paige laughed.

“i was going to be nice and say 'unlike you', but horrible works too.”

“it was both.” azzi picked up a bottle of olive oil, checked the price, and put it in the cart anyway. she didn’t know why she still pretended as if her bank account was an empty chamber in which she only used to scream. “i kept thinking about how my college self would have made fun of me for doing an ad for something called a ‘spiritual silo.’”

“your college self would have done the same,” paige said, and something was running along the words. fond, knowing. “remember when you used to make fun of me when you brought those green smoothies to practice? you’d make a fucking airplane noise to get me to take a sip.”

“you got me there. i guess i’ve always been one of those girls,” azzi said, but she was smiling.

“yeah,” paige said. then lower, as if azzi wasn’t supposed to hear, “but you were my girl.”

azzi tensed, then bent down and pretended to care deeply about the amount of bacteria in one brand of yogurt, and then another.

they moved through the store like that, trading memories disguised as small talk, someone slipping up and revealing their desperation for the other, before slowly finding their rhythm again. paige grabbed ingredients for a philly steak bowl, and azzi selected a slab of salmon that cost more than it should have and was much too orange to be truly authentic.

somewhere between the produce section and the checkout line, the space between them started to feel less like a chasm and more like a ditch they were at risk of dipping into but could eventually learn to cross.

the second morning arrived soft and golden, filtering through the french doors like honey through cheesecloth. azzi woke to the sound of waves and paige's breathing, deep and even beside her.

they'd maintained their invisible line down the middle of the bed, but sometime in the night paige had turned toward her, one arm flung across the space between them like a question mark. azzi was unable to help herself, her desire loose and unmanageable when she first woke, and she reached out to carefully remove a few thin pieces of hair from paige’s face. she could feel the flush of paige’s blood, the warmth of her life pooling around her high cheekbones and dripping to her slack mouth.

azzi let it run through her, and then she rescinded before she became too re-attached.

she slipped out quietly, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood. she'd packed a collection of loose dresses for this trip, linen and cotton things that skimmed her body without clinging, the kind of effortless pieces that photographed well for the lifestyle content her team was always pushing.

you could be a different type of wnba star, her first pr manager had spouted. azzi hadn’t even asked what that meant. the vitriol the woman had slathered across the words told her everything she needed to know.

so, she just fired her.

after a sleep-soaked huddle underneath the warm spray of the shower, azzi emerged from the ensuite bathroom in a cream-colored slip dress that fell just above her knees, soft as butter against her skin, with a black lace hem. she fortified herself with her regular stack of gold and diamonds, unsurprised to see paige unmoved by the chimes of the jewelry pieces as they ran into one another.

some things never change.

the kitchen was composed of marble countertops and cabinets painted in a shade of electric blue that was just shy of being overstimulating. the windows over the sink and behind the oak-slab table were wide and performed the same framing of the ocean as the others in the house.

azzi admired the view briefly before beginning her search for the coffee machine she had been promised. she made coffee in the kind of ritualistic way that had become her morning meditation: grinding beans, measuring water, waiting for the slow drip. the domesticity of it felt foreign and familiar all at once.

it was a blessing to suck at the teat of regular caffeine instead of the matcha powder she’d been choking down, lest she get caught supporting a brand that she wasn’t an ambassador of. partnership was everything.

she found herself on the small deck overlooking the water, coffee warm between her palms, watching the sun paint the horizon in shades of apricot and rose. the book she'd brought, a different selection than the literary thing her publicist had recommended, lay unopened in her lap. instead, she let herself exist in the space between sleep and waking, between memory and possibility.

she closed her eyes, let everything become the same shade as paige’s preferred blonde.

when paige emerged an hour later, hair sleep-mussed and wearing a well-worn t-shirt, she found azzi exactly where she'd left her mental image: barefoot and golden in the morning light, dress riding up her thighs as she tucked her legs beneath her.

“morning, princess,” paige said, settling into the chair beside her with her own mug. “you're up early.”

“i like the quiet,” azzi replied, opening her eyes but not looking away from the water. the nickname settled at her neck like a stone. “before the world gets a hold of where i am.”

paige hummed in response, before reaching to the side and pulling out her ipad with the casual focus of someone who'd never learned to exist without a screen. game tape, probably. or those stupid tiktoks she's always been addicted to.

some things never change.

azzi couldn’t help the way her mouth rose in a soft smile, eyes tracking the familiar hunch of paige’s back over the screen. it was only then that she realized the shirt paige had slept in was an old relic of azzi’s uconn days. a white tee with the faded print of her face, the number thirty-five faded in blue on the back.

her chest hurt. it couldn’t seem to stop.

they sat like that for a while, azzi reading passages that didn't stick, paige absorbed in whatever digital rabbit hole she'd fallen into. their silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore. it was full, a bit tense the way good silences were, filled with the sound of pages turning and coffee being sipped and swallowed and the distant crash of waves against rock.

it was easy for azzi to believe that she had made it to that fantasy of domesticity she’d always kept close to her chest. but the truth was that she only had a week of it, because she’d never told the love of her life that she loved her more than allowed, for her entire life.

by midweek, they'd found their perfect cadence.

azzi would wake first, make coffee, and leave some behind for paige to wake to. then she’d claim her spot on the deck with whatever book she was pretending to focus on. paige would emerge twenty minutes later, ipad in hand, settling into the space with her mug beside her like she belonged there. they'd share the morning without talking much, two people remembering how to exist in the same orbit.

the afternoons belonged to the kitchen.

it started accidentally. azzi had been standing at the marble island, halving peaches with a knife that was too sharp for the job, juice running down her wrists in sticky rivulets. the fruit was perfect, blushed and heavy, the kind of summer abundance that made you understand why people wrote poems about the season.

“hey, careful,” paige had said, appearing at her elbow, voice low and sleep-rough. "you’re gonna lose a finger messin' around like that.”

and then somehow paige was there, her body a warm presence at azzi's side, taking the knife with gentle fingers and finishing the job. her movements were efficient, practiced. she'd always been good with her hands.

“there,” paige said, sliding half a peach across the cutting board, that familiar rasp creeping into her voice. “perfect.”

azzi bit into it without thinking, let the sweetness flood her mouth, and when she looked up, paige was watching her with something that looked like hunger.

after that, they cooked together.

not planned, not discussed. it just happened. azzi would start something—slicing tomatoes for a salad, seasoning the expensive salmon she'd bought—and paige would drift over, find something to do with her hands. busy herself with slipping into azzi’s space. setting the table, opening wine, chopping herbs with the kind of focus she usually reserved for basketball.

the kitchen was small enough that they had to move around each other, a careful choreography that was becoming less careful by the day. paige would reach for salt just as azzi turned from the stove, and their hips would brush. when azzi needed something from the upper cabinet, paige would appear behind her, one hand settling on her lower back while the other reached over her head.

“‘scuse me, princess,” paige would murmur, the words low and familiar, and azzi would lean into the touch before she could stop herself.

“sorry,” one of them would murmur, but neither moved away quickly.

on thursday, azzi decided to make something proper. not just pasta but a whole meal, the way she used to back in the dorms when she'd drag paige kicking and screaming away from takeout.

she pulled out ingredients like she was conducting an orchestra: wild-caught halibut that cost more than most people's grocery budget, meyer lemons bright as a child’s drawing of the sun, asparagus with stalks thin as pencils, a bottle of sancerre white that had been waiting for either the right moment or the moment where her nerves became too shot to raw the world.

she was at the island, zesting a lemon with focused precision, when paige appeared behind her.

“move, baby,” paige said, voice low and warm, her hands settling on azzi's waist to guide her aside so she could reach the upper cabinet. the pet name slipped out like muscle memory, and neither of them acknowledged it, but azzi felt the heat of paige's palms through the thin fabric of her dress.

“what you need me to do?” paige asked, already washing her hands, settling into the familiar rhythm of being azzi's sous chef.

“asparagus, please,” azzi said, nodding toward the bundle of green spears. “trim the ends, then cut them on the bias. and don't make them too thick—”

“i know how you like them,” paige interrupted, that raspy laugh threading through her voice. “damn, some things really don't change.”

she worked with the same focus she brought to everything, tongue pink and peeking as she concentrated. the kitchen filled with the sound of her knife against the cutting board, steady and sure.

when the fish was ready—skin crispy and golden, flesh flaking perfectly—azzi plated it like she was styling a magazine shoot. the plates themselves were white ceramic things that felt substantial in their hands, but the food was a dream.

halibut nestled against bright green asparagus, lemon butter pooled golden around the edges, microgreens scattered like confetti. azzi poured the wine into proper glasses, turning the bottle expertly so that nothing dripped and stained.

“jesus, az,” paige said, settling across from her at the small dining table. “this is some fancy shit. anthony bourdois and stuff.”

azzi knew paige knew that man’s name, but she laughed as she was supposed to. and because she found it funny.

“anthony bourdain,” azzi said automatically, but she was smiling.

“my bad,” paige grinned, taking a bite. her eyes went wide, then soft. “oh, this is… fuck. sorry. this is really good.”

azzi preened a little, brown eyes deepening with pleasure.

“this is perfect,” paige said, her voice gone soft and wondering. “like, for real, az. i forgot how good you are at this.”

“it's not that hard,” azzi replied, but she was practically plump with the compliment. cooking for paige had always been her way of taking care of her, making sure she ate something green, something real. “besides, i remember someone who used to live off protein bars and those horrible energy drinks.”

“aye, don't come for my red bulls,” paige laughed, that low rasp making azzi's stomach flip. “those got me through college.”

“those were gonna give you a heart attack and get you through the icu,” azzi countered, cutting another piece of fish. “i had to do something.”

later, after the dishes were done and the wine was finished, they found themselves back on the deck. the sun was setting, painting everything in shades of coral and gold. the ocean seemed on fire, and though azzi had her book again, she'd given up pretending to read it. paige had put the ipad aside, was just sitting there, looking out at the water.

“i forgot how much i liked this,” paige said suddenly.

“what?”

“this. just… being. not having to be anywhere or do anything or perform for anyone.”

azzi looked at her then, really looked. paige's face was soft in the golden light, younger somehow. free of the particular tension she carried in public, the weight of being watched and measured and judged.

“that’s why you came, right?” azzi asked gently, and paige tilted her head so she could look at her.

“yeah, some of it. just got…tired.”

“yeah,” azzi said quietly. “me too.”

by the time they both came to bed, they knew things were irreparably different. things had been skewed back to the lives they’d led before their separation. the sound of azzi brushing her teeth had become paige's lullaby, the signal that the day was officially over, that she could finally begin to let herself sleep.

they shared the bed without the careful distance of the first two nights. not touching, exactly, but not actively avoiding it either. when azzi turned over in her sleep, her hand found paige's arm, and paige didn't pull away. there was a sudden silence, and then azzi felt the bed dip as paige curled around her like a flesh half-moon.

she smelled different. lighter. azzi caught a whiff of l’eau d’issey rising from the nape of paige’s neck: cool, sheer, mineralic. plastic lotus blossoms on a reflective silver pond. it was what paige wore when she wanted to go to bed feeling more like a girl and less like a woman, more like a girl and less like a god.

azzi didn’t even know she remembered what paige wore to bed.

(she did.)

some rhythms, it seemed, were too deep to break.

friday broke bright and new, and with it the bittersweet realization that they had two days left to spend wrapped around one another. that was all they had; two more mornings, two more nights. azzi felt it in her chest like the ghost of a bruise.

she was determined to make the most of it.

she woke early as usual, but forwent her typical routine. her shower came and went, steam curling around her like phantom ribbons. when she stepped out, she was already dressed, wrapped in a sleek, white long-sleeved one-piece that looked more architectural than athletic. the tailored seams tracked elegant, merciless lines down her body. waist cinched, sleeves sharp, legs carved out in clean sweeps of muscle.

the zipper at the front was undone just enough to draw the eye, resting at the softest dip of her chest, letting the curves of her breasts peek out, intentional and knowing. the fabric caught the light, made her body look even more divine, like she’d stepped from a film still.

paige, sprawled across the bed in a tank top and boxer shorts, nearly choked. her mouth went a little slack; she forgot what she’d been about to say. the brown slope of azzi’s thighs was enough to make paige’s mouth go dry, hunger pooling at the base of her tongue. her blue eyes caught hard on the swell of azzi’s ass when she turned to grab a small blue and white striped canvas tote. paige didn’t even pretend not to look.

azzi turned back around with a slow grin, catching the quick flush that had already started to rise up paige’s neck.

“come on, cool girl. get ready.” her voice was warm, edged with amusement. “we’re going to the beach.”

the walk wasn’t long. just a soft, simple turn around the house and a stroll down the manicured path to the shoreline. still, everything felt momentous.

the day was already heavy with heat, as if it had been boiling last evening and was now bursting. the beach itself was empty enough that azzi took her sunglasses off, unafraid of being seen.

she was barefoot, curls frizzed at the edges, eyes salt-slick and bright with that calm kind of joy that came with being near the sea. there was no one to see her but paige, and that was enough.

behind her, paige followed, bikini black and spare, skin bronzed in uneven patches from too many hours lying out alone before azzi arrived. her tan lines dipped low across her stomach, disappeared under the band of her suit bottoms. she looked ridiculously beautiful. the type of woman you’d see on a postcard and write about ten years later.

azzi glanced back. smiled to herself.

she liked the idea of what they must’ve looked like: her in white, paige in black. a mirrored negative. duality made literal. it was reflective of them. the world often felt singular and simple when they were together.

things fell into the realm of paige-and-azzi, and what was not simply fell out of it.

“az,” paige called, voice caught between a whine and a wheeze, “can you just tell me what we’re doing?”

azzi turned, lips already tugged upward, curls bouncing as she walked. “i’m going to teach you how to surf.”

paige blinked. “huh?”

azzi didn’t answer, only laughed, light and delighted as she pointed toward the surf shack in the distance.

it took her a few minutes to find the surf shack, but a few minutes later (after minimal bribery and a borrowed id), azzi returned triumphant with two long turquoise boards, balanced easily beneath her arms like they weighed nothing.

she guided paige to the water’s edge, where the tide frothed at their ankles, and then further still, until the boards bobbed between them.

paige, of course, was exactly how azzi imagined she’d be: stubborn, impatient, flailing.

“you've got to paddle sooner,” azzi called from the break, wiping salt from her brow. “you keep waiting too long.”

paige coughed, breathless, clinging to the surfboard as if it was going to save her from more than drowning. “you’re literally a professional athlete.”

azzi shrugged, grinning slyly. “so are you.”

the water was warmer than expected, flecked with sunlight and the faint tang of algae. everything felt lush. sticky with summer. a breeze teased through the salt-thick air, carrying the scent of sunscreen, driftwood, crushed shells, and something sweet paige couldn’t place.

eventually, miraculously, paige caught a wave. only for a second. two seconds, maybe. but she was upright, alive in the motion, and azzi screamed so loudly from the shoreline that a gull flapped off in terror.

they laughed all the way back up the dunes, limbs wet and trembling. sand stuck to their shins, towels slung carelessly across their shoulders. azzi’s skin glowed gold in the setting sun, the long light catching every curve and ridge like it was sculpting her from scratch. paige didn’t say a word. she didn’t need to. her silence was reverent. eyes soft, fixed. she couldn’t stop looking.

she felt too full of azzi to speak.

the house loomed ahead, blue and wide and a little too quiet. another cruel body of water to swallow them. paige felt the day slipping away as they approached it. azzi slipped her hand into paige’s for one beat, warm and solid, before veering off toward the side of the house without a word.

paige didn’t ask where she was going. she already knew.

the outside shower was tucked away in the corner of the deck, half-hidden by slatted wood. the water had already started—a low hiss, steady and rhythmic, a sound that felt older than memory. pine trees rustled overhead, wind threading through the steam like fingers through hair.

azzi’s hum floated up from behind the slats. low, off-key, gentle. paige didn’t recognize the song, but it sat on the tip of her tongue, half-remembered. like something she’d once been told in the dark. something whose sweetness she could only recall if she sucked its juice from azzi’s mouth.

the decision came easily. unthinking. paige stepped off the deck, padded barefoot through the warm grass, and slipped behind the slats.

when paige stepped into the small, steamy alcove, the air shifted. azzi didn’t flinch. she didn’t turn. she just tilted her chin slightly, made room like she’d known paige would come.

the water slid down her back in gleaming sheets, catching the curve of her spine, tracing the indent of her waist, and pooling at the small of it. the soft weight of her curls clung damp to her shoulders, steam turning the ones at her temple’s edge soft and sweet. she was almost too beautiful to look at directly.

paige’s swimsuit slipped off easily. wet fabric gliding down her body, aimless and forgotten on the floorboards. she stepped in closer and pressed against azzi, bare chest to bare back. her arms looped around azzi’s waist, her fingers splaying just beneath the curve of her ribs. skin met skin, warm and wet and so achingly familiar. azzi let her. she didn’t say a word.

paige tested her limit, pressed her lips to azzi’s shoulder, slow and reverent. lapped up the remaining salt.

another kiss.

then another.

salt caked her mouth. steam smothered her lungs.

“i missed you,” she whispered, deep into azzi’s skin. then again. and again. the words turned desperate, came faster, wet and unyielding like the ocean had turned her loose, and now she couldn’t stop spilling out. “i missed you. i missed you. i missed you.”

the words were raw, like they had been locked behind her teeth for years and now refused to stay in.

azzi turned slowly, water coursing between them. her eyes swept over paige’s face: pink brow, trembling mouth, eyes glassy and brimming with emotion, cheeks ruddy. her hand came up and cradled the back of paige’s neck, firm and careful.

she didn’t say anything. and then she kissed her.

it wasn’t tender. it wasn’t gentle. it was hungry. familiar. a crash, more than a meeting. like she was trying to drink paige down, swallow every last second they’d been apart.

water ran between them, hot and insistent. their bodies pressed together, slick and unyielding. paige was in her bloodstream, azzi in hers. paige's hands slipped down azzi’s back, found her hips. azzi kissed her like she wanted her ruined, like paige was a prayer and the answer both.

they moved together like muscle memory. like instinct. like nothing had ever come between them except time, and time had finally given up.

there had never truly been two people. they had always been this. one thing in two bodies. a pulse shared across years since they were sixteen, and teeming with their first tastes of romantic affection.

the water kept running. the sun began to fall, streaking the sky a torturous red. for that moment, in the warm hush of steam and pine and skin, nothing was lost.

they knew.

they’d always known.

on the last morning, the house was quiet.

the silence felt intentional. the house was stagnant with the dread that always came with goodbyes. the walls had heard enough. the floors seemed to soften their creaks in respect.

azzi stirred first. slipped from the sheets, then stopped. turned back.

she lay herself down gently, stretching across paige’s body like she couldn’t help it. gravity had chosen a different path for her instead. her cheek found paige’s collarbone. the rest of her settled into place, limbs all long and warm and drowsy.

for a moment, they didn’t move. but she knew the other woman was awake.

paige ran her fingers along azzi’s spine, slow and steady, tracing the line of a coastline she already knew by heart. the dips, the curves, the familiar tenderness. azzi exhaled. pressed closer. paige kissed the crown of her head.

once. then again. made no effort to stop her hand from smoothing over the dip of azzi’s back, her waist.

there were no words, no need. just this aching tenderness, the hush of early light slipping across their bodies, and the sound of something unspoken being understood.

when azzi finally moved to leave, she did it slowly. her lips brushed paige’s temple first, then the corner of her mouth, then paused like she might say something, but didn’t. she only looked at her, doe eyes soft and teeth peeking from under her top lip, like i love you lived there and always had.

paige didn’t follow her downstairs. it was easier to listen to the gentle thud of her sandals and the screen door whispering shut. she stayed curled up in the bed, body rocking, still in the ocean from the days before, wearing her sleep tee like a loose shield.

through the blinds, she watched azzi load her things into the back of her cherry land rover. her curls were half-wet again, face bare, sunglasses pushed up in her hair. she looked like a dream you had where you felt the best you ever had, but could never get quite right when relaying it in conversation.

they didn’t need a speech. not this time. nothing had broken. they’d just fallen out of orbit for a while. but gravity was patient. and paige had always been a slow-burn kind of girl.

the car rolled down the drive and disappeared behind a bend of trees.

paige didn’t cry, not really. but her eyes stung in that way that felt inherited. a return of the sadness she'd borrowed from the younger version of herself, that she’d never outrun. she stared at the ceiling. let the ache crest and soften.

then her phone buzzed.

a text, first.

➳ come visit me, please. ➳ missed you so much.

and then the photos: a quiet icloud link drop, an album titled a&p east coast week, filled with images paige hadn’t known were being taken. azzi had been watching. always.

a blurred photo of them on the dunes, paige snorting with laughter. a shot of their coffee mugs on the deck. a grainy zoom of the low dip of paige’s bikini bottom on their walk back from the surf. a screenshot of a playlist code, a half-assed grocery list. a pale photo of the ocean in the morning. a photo of paige asleep, limbs splayed and face young.

fifteen minutes passed. then paige responded.

no words, just a screenshot of a one-way ticket. lax.

azzi loved it. pink heart, blue bubble, and all.

paige rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, breathing through the salt-heat in her stomach, the stillness of the morning. nothing was solved. nothing had to be.

no promises. no titles. just the quiet, sure thing they’d always been.

they’d always come back to each other.

they already had.

somewhere in the distance, the waves kept folding in.

#mine ; 🐎.#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #dallas wings

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awrkive · 9 months ago

Text

WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.)

there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.

PAIRING cnbl!jungkook x cnbl!female reader

GENRE r18+ (SMUT, fluff) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 11k of pure fluffy and smutty nonsense 😍 literally 90% of this is smut

WARNINGS/MISC fluff galore, cnbl jk is the father of all simps all men need to be like him fr, angst if u squint but like not really 😭, oc's tendencies to be avoidant of her feelings show up lol i still love u saur, best boy cnbl jk ):, he will disintegrate if he cant call her by a petname [ explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x (its just a fanfic its not that serious), panty sniffing (like very quick), dirty talking lol, c*nnilingus, they hold hands during it <3, VERY SLIGHT foot action but like its very fleeting lol u dont need to worry about it lmfao, multiple s*x positions, cowgirl position cos her eyes are pretty trope, good ole cre*mpies ], L b*mb drop and an ily kink develops. literally every paragraph theres an ily crying. anyways i think thats all feel free to inform me if i left out any

NOTES i have like 11 asks on my inbox asking about how cnbl couple is and what their label is are they official now etc etc and they've sitting there since bush administration </3 after two years of drought we are finally so back. i purposefully didnt answer any of th asks since i want to make a drabble for when they finally make things official so this is it awrkive nation🩷 this can be read as a standalone?? but like pls read cnbl first lol (also i thought i ate this title when i thought about it but now i realize it kinda sounds ass but its 2am so give me some slack. also this is unedited skjfdjkfhdk AND this will also be my last post before i go mia for the next few weeks due to big life happenings. leave ur thoughts in my inbox or reply section to get a cnbl jk to go🫂

ORIGINAL STORY [CNBL] | MAIN MASTERLIST

Jungkook loves when he gives it to you slow. Loves the heavy breathes that puff out of your mouth, the drawl out moans that give your mouth that lovely, erotic O-shape which image burns in his head for the next few days (two days, at the very least), and the way he can feel the exact moment when you clench and unclench around the ridges of his hard cock.

But he also loves it when he jackhammers into your pussy, pounding in and out of it at a quick pace that your eyes roll to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his skin (or scalp), the staccato rhythm of your “oh”s and “ah”s that sound like real music to his ears, and the way your mouth hangs open as you utter sweet gibberish into the air because the pleasure he’s giving you feels too much.

“Give it to me, give it to me,” you whisper against his mouth. On your back, you’re sprawled across his bed, your thighs resting on the crook of Jungkook’s elbows as he pounds into you like he’s trying to win a contest.

There’s dried up tears on the side of your eyes, your lips swollen from the way you’ve been kissing for minutes, and Jungkook finds it hard to focus on one thing when you have your pussy gripping around him like a fucking vice, your breasts bouncing at his every quick thrust, and your pretty face looking at him like you just want nothing but cock.

“Y-yeah, fuck—” Jungkook grunts, repeating the same motion of fucking into you at a pace so fast he can hear his bedframe hitting the wall when he thrusts back. He grips your thighs tight, veins popping out of his arms. “You like this, baby? Love when I fuck you quick and fast?”

You nod your head, bottom lip caught in your teeth, looking up at him with those hooded eyes that Jungkook is near to losing his goddamn mind. God, you’re so fucking pretty it genuinely hurts him. Most especially his dick.

“Am I fucking you stupid, angel?” He slides out, and then enters you abruptly, making you cry out in pleasure. “I'm taking care of you so good you can't think straight, huh? Hm?’

“Y-yes!” You squeak out, grabbing to try and hold onto his biceps. Jungkook leans forward so you can find leverage on his body, his dick hitting deeper into your core at the movement. At the mewl that you let out, he stretches your legs higher until you almost feel like you’re being folded in half, with Jungkook jackhammering his dick into your tight pussy.

"S-so good…" you whimpered, almost out of breath.

Jungkook groans at the pretty sound. “Ngh– I feel fucking good, too, baby. You're so fucking pretty. Squeeze those tits for me.”

You oblige, grabbing your boobs and squishing them together. Jungkook revels at the sight, wanting nothing but to burn every second in memory. Sometimes, he wishes he can have some sort of copy of you two doing this… just a little something for your own private enjoyment. He hasn’t brought it up to you, mostly because he thinks you won’t necessarily be into the idea as much as he is. Will probably say no, or be partial to it at best.

Next time. He tells himself.

“Fuck, fuck – fuck!” Jungkook grunts, sliding in and out of you, picking up his pace more, beginning to sound delirious at the sensation of your walls fluttering around his cock. It’s impossible the way you just grow tighter every second, clenching around him like you don’t have any intentions of letting go.

“J-Jungkook—!” You cry out, arms reaching out for him, and when Jungkook sees the small stream of tears falling out from your eyes again, he can’t help but fuck you senseless. “Oh my god– ah– fuck, i-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He continues his movements, pounding into your pussy, tightening his hold on your hips. Your nails dig into his forearms, and your chest subtly moves up and down at every action that he makes. When you close your eyes, that’s when Jungkook knows that your climax is near, and so he stays consistent in his pace, just fucking into you deep and fast – just like how you like it now.

“Ah– there, Jungkook— oh god–!” You yelp, choking in your words, your pussy spasming around Jungkook’s cock until he feels that burst of hot white around his shaft. You reflexively let out a loud moan, but what you say next completely catches him off-guard.

“It feels so good– I love you.”

Jungkook staggers, dick slipping out of you momentarily at your sudden confession. But as he lets his gaze fall to your face, you have your eyes closed, lost in the moment, like how you usually are when you just orgasmed – and Jungkook knows he can’t talk to you at that state, nor can he ask to confirm what you just said.

So he looks down at where your bodies meet, shakily breathes when he sees the base of his cock getting covered in your cum, your juices dripping all over his dark sheets making a wet spot underneath you.

“F-fuck,” He hisses, quickening his pace to let himself go.

He thinks about the sound of your “I love you”, how it falls prettily on your lips, and how good it would be to hear that one more fucking time.

Letting out a guttural groan, the thought completely tips him over the edge, and he grips his cock to shoot his cum into your swollen hole, painting your walls white just as you painted his shaft the same color with your own orgasm.

Unexpectedly, he feels you gush the second time.

It’s cold and it’s hot at the same time – the sensation. It’s top three one of the best feelings a man could ever experience, and Jungkook is greedy – always greedy when it comes to you – that he pushes his cock back in to put it all in you, not wanting any to be wasted on the mattress. And just because he wants to hear that pretty moan from you again when he enters your cunt.

You do, making the hair on his body tingle.

He drops down beside your body – more like on top of you, but a little off to the side – making sure to not put all his weight on you lest he hurts you. As usual, you receive him wholeheartedly with open arms, humming when he begins to suckle on your still rock-hard nipples, his hand shooting up to fondle the other one. Instantly, your hand caresses his hair.

“Kook.”

“Hm?” He hums against your breast.

“I’m sore. Get your dick off me.”

Jungkook frowns, but nonetheless acquiesces and slides out of you. He hisses when he feels your cum leaking out, about to insert a finger in you to stop it, but you take his temporary separation from you to stand up from the bed, leaving him on it alone.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls – whines – really, looking at you with furrowed brows.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not cockwarming you tonight. I’m going to the shower–” When you see him moving to get up from the bed as well, you shoot him a glare. “No. No funny business. I’ll just go clean up and you can too and then we’ll sleep.”

“I can clean you up.” Jungkook looks at you, wide-eyed. You look at him dryly. He sighs and then lets himself fall back to the bed, naked and all that, his dick still semi-hard against his stomach. “Okay, fine.”

“Good.”

He stares at your ass as you go to the bathroom, enjoying the view of your naked back before you disappear inside the room.

Jungkook closes his eyes as he crosses his arms on the back of his head, thinking that maybe it’s good you didn’t let him in the shower with you because… how does he bring up the fact that you just said… it?

“I love you.”

Did you… mean that? Like… you love him? Like, actually, love love him?

It’s been eight months since your whole set up started. Four months of solely fucking and another four months of more fucking but you’ve actually both established that you like each other.

Of course, Jungkook feels more than that. He has for a long time now. He’s liked you since the first time you had sex and he started having deeper feelings for you every other day since then.

Needless to say, Jungkoon loves you.

Has for a long time now.

But he didn’t say anything because he was scared that you would be scared. He felt like the luckiest guy on earth when you told him you liked him – and he felt pretty much untouchable when you two started exclusively dating each other four months ago. You’re definitely his girlfriend now and him your boyfriend – and sure, you haven’t had The Talk yet, but… now that you said you love him… that pretty much changes the course of everything…

Right?

However, he finds himself pondering on it.

Did you really mean that? Jungkook doesn’t think you’re the kind of person who just spout words as heavy as that confession, so you couldn’t have been insincere when you let that out.

But… you were in the middle of sex, though. Did you just say it because you were in that position? Maybe you figured him out long ago now, have already known that he loves you, so you just said it to get him off?

That’s probably not the case, he physically shakes his head. He knows that you know you don’t need to do anything else other than be underneath him or on top of him so he can release. Hell, your mere voice is even enough to tip him off the edge; there are countless incidents where he feels a certain kind of desperation for you, in the morning or in the middle of the night when you’re away and not in his arms, and he presses your name on his contact last, then what’s supposed to be an innocent call turns into something very much far from wholesome when he feels his dick twitch at the very sound of your voice and embarrassingly cums in his pants when you goad him about it.

You know your tight hold on him. You don’t need to say I love you to get him off.

But damn, did that really get him going more than usual.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, his head throbbing at the thoughts going haywire inside his head. His dick has calmed down now, soft in between his legs, and he’s starting to feel sticky, especially with the ruined sheets on his back.

Standing up, he picks them up to put them in the hamper, grabbing a towel real quick to wrap around his lower half.

When he finishes changing the bedsheets into fresh and clean ones, that’s when you step out of the shower.

“I turned on the hot water for you.” You say, tightening your baby blue robe which is a pair of Jungkook’s own robe that he bought for you two two months ago.

Jungkook walks over to your direction and takes you by the waist to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. You give him a smile and he can’t help but give you a peck once again. “I made the bed.”

“Thanks.”

Jungkook stands there and he doesn’t notice that he’s staring until you point it out with an arched brow.

“What?”

With a surprised look, Jungkook takes himself out of his trance. “Oh, uh, nothing.” He gives you a hesitant smile. He’s actually thinking of asking you about the thing you said earlier. But right now, as he looks at you again, he finds himself a bit reluctant. “I’ll shower now.”

You look at him weird and Jungkook chuckles as he leans down to kiss you again.

When you break the contact, going over to his closet where a huge portion of your own clothes have already made its own way to, Jungkook thinks that maybe he’ll bring it up when he finishes showering.

But as he steps back out of the shower ten minutes later, you’re already sprawled across the bed with your nightie on.

And as Jungkook steps closer to you, you’re fast asleep, soft snores coming out of your mouth, pretty and peaceful in your slumber.

Jungkook smiles at the sight.

Tomorrow. He’ll bring it up tomorrow instead.

In the morning when Jungkook woke up, he didn't find you in his arms like he expected to. And when he looked through the notifications on his phone, your text told him that you already went for your 10 am class. Jungkook’s first one is at 2:30 in the afternoon.

He intended to take you out for lunch in the afternoon, but when he called you, you said you had a meeting with your club and you’d only be free in the evening onwards.

At 9:30pm, when all of Jungkook’s classes have ended, he sent you a text again, hoping you’d be free by the time.

One whole day of not seeing your face and he was starting to feel a little on edge.

[9:31pm] Jungkook: hi baby classes ended [9:31pm] Jungkook: hru i havent seen u at all today

Jungkook couldn’t help but send another one.

[9:32pm] Jungkook: i missed u. can i come over?

At that point, he was already over at the uni’s parking lot, going to the direction of his car and unlocking it when he got near. When he buckled himself into the driver’s seat, he hoped to see a reply from you.

But nothing came.

When he arrived home at the end of the day, he took a quick half-bath and ate some leftovers in the fridge.

As of now, as he settles himself onto his bed, he scrolls through your text thread, the Delivered button on his last text taunting him the longer he looks at it.

With furrowed brows, he begins to type up another message but then soon, the Delivered stamp changes to Read, and the three dancing dots on your end play on his screen, which somehow lightens his mood.

[10:45pm] princess🥰💓: Hello, Kook! So sorry for the late reply. I got caught up with classes and the long meeting with the club today [10:46pm] princess🥰💓: We apparently have to push the fall edition of the print a week earlier and I also have to revise some stuff in my thesis so I’m a bit tight on sched

Jungkook nods to himself upon reading the text message, feeling bad for you.

[10:47pm] Jungkook: ohh ic ic [10:47pm] Jungkook: do u want me to bring u food?

[10:48pm] princess🥰💓: Like, youre coming over?

[10:48pm] Jungkook: yeahh [10:48pm] Jungkook: if u want

Jungkook waits as the bubbles appear and disappear on your end, until he receives your final reply.

[10:50pm] princess🥰💓: Hmm I appreciate it but Im over at Hana’s right now. Club stuff. And then I’ll go home later to work on my paper

Pouting, Jungkook sighs as he reads your message. He really wants to see you today… he misses your pretty face and your voice and your touch.

But he doesn’t really want to push. You’re very anal about your personal space, especially when it relates to your academics.

Letting out another heavy sigh again, he tells you to give him a call when you’re at your place.

He doesn't receive any.

“Hey,”

“What the—” You see the librarian from across the room immediately eyeing you with a deadly stare. Mouthing a shameful “sorry”, you clutch your chest, turning to the embodied voice again properly this time. Only to get taken aback. “Oh hey… hi.”

Jungkook stands in front of you and he looks so… handsome – nothing new or groundbreaking, per se. He always looks like that. With only a simple combo of grey hoodie and black cargo pants, his backpack slung over one shoulder, he can probably outmodel professionals on the runway. Though, the way he looks so comfy is making you want nothing but to snuggle him.

“Busy day?” He asks, pertaining to the laptop and stack of books on your table. Placing his bag on the floor underneath the table, he takes the seat beside you.

“Yeah… I'm writing an essay right now.” You offer him a small smile. It feels like you haven't seen each other for weeks, but the truth is, it's just been over two days since you were at his place.

“I see. Do you mind me here?”

“Nope. You can do whatever you want.”

"Can I kiss you then?" He asks and that makes you pause.

Looking around, you take note that there aren’t a lot of people in the library anymore as it’s already late. There’s the librarian a few feet away from you, but he’s currently busy doing something on his computer. With a quiet chuckle, you face Jungkook and say, “Do you need to ask?”

Jungkook shrugs, already leaning towards you. “I just feel like it.”

“It's fine, Kook.” you turn your head to him, and he does not waste any second, closing the gap between you both and capturing your lips in his for a soft kiss.

You sigh in his mouth. You miss him so much and he smells so good it calms your insides. You've been stressing over the essay you’re writing, but all that seems to die down as a result from the exchange with Jungkook.

God, you really need to talk to him.

“Missed you.” He says once your faces are apart. He pecks your lips one more time for good measure and gives you that adorable bunny smile of his.

“We saw each other, like, two days ago.” You chuckle, making sure to muffle the sound.

Scooting his chair closer to you, Jungkook whines in your ear, “Too long.” When you look at his face, there's a small hint of pout on his lips.

“Well, we're here now.”

“Really?” Jungkook raises his brow. “Then let's get out of here. You can write your essay at my place and I'll cook you dinner and then we can binge watch the third season of Twin Peaks.”

“You haven't even started on the first season, why are you watching the third.” You say with an incredulous tone.

“Doesn't matter.”

It does matter.

Jungkook has driven you both to his place. When he turned on his TV, you told him you can just start Twin Peaks all over again so he can understand what he's watching, but he insisted that he was gonna know the context eventually – fast forward, he did not. So here he currently is, asking you who everybody is and what’s the context of what they’re saying, and as much as you love his company, people posing questions after questions while watching something will never not be a pet peeve of yours.

“Baby,” you start. Jungkook looks at you with doe eyes. You cup his face and stare at him seriously. “You're annoying me.”

He lets out a gasp.

A literal, audible gasp.

“That hurt. Please tell me you're joking.” Jungkook says that, but you can see the playful glint in his eyes as you squint yours at him.

He made you bulgogi and you both devoured the last of it five minutes ago – and you're thankful for his kindness and generosity but god—

You push on his chest lightly. “Then stop asking. I told you we can just watch the first season but then you want to jump into the last one, of course you're gonna be confused.”

“Yeah but you already watched all of it. I didn't want you to get bored.” Jungkook pouts. You stare at him for a while and you kind of hate that he’s so handsome and so cute at the same time it makes it hard for you to completely be annoyed with him.

There's a fond look on your face when you roll your eyes again. Scooting closer to him on the couch, you plant a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You're really sweet, Kook, but why don't we just watch a movie or something.”

He leans down to kiss your mouth. “Alright. You pick the movie and I'll go grab some chips from the pantry.”

You smile at him before he disappears to fetch some food, leaving you to browse through the catalog. When he returns shortly, you muse, “You're really nice and sweet to me today. What's up?”

Jungkook scoffs, as if offended by what you said. “Am I not nice and sweet every other day?”

“That's not what I meant. You're just extra sweet and extra nice tonight— I mean, you usually put up a fight on who picks the movies.”

“I let you win every time though?” He says and you nod in thought.

“True.” Looking back to the television, you hover over the Notting Hill poster. Thinking that the description sounds interesting, you click on it. As the movie loads, you turn your gaze to Jungkook and nudge his leg. “But still…”

He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Gathering your feet on his lap, he leans back and retorts, “I just missed you so much. Is that bad?”

You don't anticipate the way he lifts one of your legs, holding your ankle up and then putting a kiss on it.

It makes blood rush to your cheeks. With his mussed hair and the grey hoodie and cargo pants from earlier changed into a simple white shirt and grey sweatpants, he looks comfy you just want to jump him and bite him and kiss him all at the same time.

Damn. He really makes you feel a whole lot of things you're starting to think you need an intervention.

You’ve never been so attracted to somebody before. It may be because you know you’re past the point of being just attracted to him.

And then there’s that beat in your heart again. The flip-flopping and the weird feeling in your stomach.

You look away from his intense gaze. “No.”

You hear him let out a low chuckle, a sound so attractive you feel the hair on every part of your body standing up.

“Come here.” he puts your legs away from his lap, much to your little disappointment. But he beckons you to come close to him, and so you do, leaving your lying position from the couch to go over to where he is. You don't know whether you're gonna place yourself beside him or what, but he beats you to it as he takes your thighs and guides you to straddle him.

You do so without any words, following his lead. You feel heat creeping up your neck when you finally land on his lap, his arms circling around you.

“Why do you still smell like flowers even after a whole day?” It's followed with him sniffing the juncture between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent.

You flinch 'cause it tickles a little. He always does and says that shit and you can't help but laugh, always not knowing what to say to that. But Jungkook doesn’t seem to need your input, anyway.

He squeezes your body, hugging you tighter to him.

“I really missed you, you know?”

You giggle. “Yeah, you said that the third time now.”

“You're keeping count but why can't you just say you miss me too?” He pulls away, making sure to face you so you see the pout on his face.

You peck his lips. “That's because I don't.” You joke, earning a glare.

“Wow, first you say I'm annoying and now you apparently didn't miss me?” You're sure he's joking but the frown on his face makes you think that maybe somewhere in his head, he's thinking otherwise.

You smile at him. “I was just kidding, Kook. Of course I missed you too. And thank you for the food.” You say against his lips, leaning down to kiss him again.

“Does that mean you’re done avoiding me now?”

Breaking away from the kiss, you look at him in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“What?” you say, confused.

Jungkook arches a brow. You both stare into each other’s eyes but then his gets way too intense that you can’t help but look away. That’s when you hear him sigh.

“Baby, talk to me.” Jungkook cups your jaw with his palm, gently directing your face towards his. “I don’t like when we don’t talk. You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? Is it something I can fix?”

Hearing his words makes your heart melt and your brain turn into mush. Is it something I can fix? Jesus.

How can you not fall for him when he says things like that?

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asks when you don’t say a thing.

That earns him an instant, aggressive shake of your head.

“No, Jungkook. You didn’t do anything wrong, not at all,” you say, planting your palms on his shoulders to assure him. You see the slight hint of smile on the curve of his lips. “It’s, uh, it’s me…” you trail off, not sure how to navigate your next words. You take note of the way Jungkook’s eyebrows meet in confusion. “I’ve just been… feeling weird lately.”

At that, his confusion grows even more, but it’s more out of concern instead of perplexity.

“What’s wrong, angel? You don’t feel okay?” He says, caressing your face as if he’ll find the issue there. He looks so willing to just get you to okay and it makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

“No– I mean, I feel okay. It’s not that,” you shake your head, shy at his doting. When he waits for your next words, you can’t help but bury your face in the crook of his neck as you say— more like whisper— against his skin, “I told you I love you the other day.”

You feel Jungkook stilling under you. And it makes you nervous. Heart racing against your ribcage, you can’t find it in yourself to break away from your hold on him because that would mean you have to look into his eyes – and you don’t want to. Your cheeks feel so hot and you feel like throwing up. Your emotions are all over the place and Jungkook’s prolonged silence isn’t helping at all.

But suddenly, those thoughts die down when you feel him relaxing underneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist. You feel a weight on the crown of your head and with a gentle rub on your back, Jungkook whispers against your hair, “I love you, too.”

That makes you instantly look up from him. When you see his face, his lips are curved into a soft smile.

With furrowed brows, you voice out your concern.

“You don’t need to say it back just ‘cause I told you that.”

Now, it’s Jungkook’s turn to be confused.

“I’m not saying it just ‘cause you said it, baby.” He looks so sincere and for a moment, you feel bad for doubting him for a second. Jungkook must’ve noticed the look on your face as he cups your jaw again, angling it towards him. You feel his smile against your mouth when he presses his lips to yours. “I'm in love with you, __. I have been for the past few months now.”

Your eyes widen a bit when he calls you by your name.

Jungkook has always liked calling you by every endearing pet name in the world that you’re lowkey convinced he forgot your real name at this point, but when the sweet syllable rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but melt.

He doesn’t seem to notice your surprise, though. Just breaks away from the contact you’re both engaged in and he takes your wrist in his hand, lifting it to his face to kiss the skin on the side of your palm.

The action was so momentary and brief but it doesn’t deter the fact that it made your heart jump.

You think it’s funny how you feel so much whenever he’s around. You think it’s funny that you feel so giddy – even after all this time.

You think it’s funny that before the whole thing started, you’ve never considered this ever happening but here you are, completely elated over the fact that you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook and he feels the same way too.

“You have?” You say, voice quiet. He nods, humming, leaning to your palm when you put it over his cheek. “Since when?”

“The first time we went to that abandoned house.”

Your lips part at the declaration. That was… that happened so long ago. Nearly four months from the present.

“That long?” You blink a few times at him, not really sure how to react to that confession.

Jungkook chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your thumb again. You like how his instinct is to always have a form of physical contact with you whenever you’re around. You don’t know if he knows that himself, but you’ve definitely observed that for the past few months you’ve been “exclusively” seeing each other and it just… absolutely melts you.

“I know… I’m a bit of a coward for not telling you sooner. But I didn’t want to scare you off.” Jungkook says admittedly, and his last sentence makes your heart twinge.

He didn’t want to scare you off. Of course he’d think that. You had a total breakdown at the prospect of him opening up to you just four months ago – before you told him you liked him.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “I— yeah. I was in my head over the past two days, you know?”

Jungkook’s face etches into a look of concern. “Hm?”

Nodding your head slowly, you find comfort in tracing random shapes and lines on his chest instead.

“These feelings… they’re not new. I didn’t just wake up one day and realized I love you. I felt it during the time when we woke up together in bed for the first time at your place. I felt it when you drove three hours from your parents’ house to my dorm just ‘cause I told you I missed you. I felt it when you stayed up late with me just so you could help me make my flash cards. I—” you look away, suddenly embarrassed at what you’re saying. It’s not like you to say so much. Not like you to show and voice out this extent of your emotion. “I remember the times I felt I loved you for the briefest of moments in the past three months, but lately, I can't stop thinking about it and suddenly, I can’t count on my fingers anymore how many times I felt I love you. I loved you every hour of last week and yesterday I loved you even more.”

You watch as Jungkook looks at you with parted lips. Awe-struck? You don’t want to hype yourself up too much. So you look away, keeping your eyes focused on his white shirt.

“And what about today?” Jungkook suddenly speaks.

You free your bottom lip from your teeth and finally look Jungkook in the eyes. “I love you more than I did yesterday. And tomorrow I’ll do the same.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook utters, bowing his head. His tone's a mix of incredulity, amusement, and joy at the same time. When he looks up at you again, he looks at you with so much sparkle in his eyes you’re starting to think you’re a fool for not noticing earlier the love they hold for you in them. “I just… wow.”

Your eyebrows meet in confusion.

Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “I just… I had this huge confession in my head, you know? I– uh– I wrote it in my notes app.”

Suddenly, the serious atmosphere breaks as you can’t help but laugh. “What?”

With a small pout, Jungkook continues, “I’m not good with words, you know that. So, I had this big confession planned out. I was gonna tell you in detail how much I love you, but after hearing what you just said… I forgot about everything I tried to memorize last night.”

Now you’re giggling in his lap. Just trying to visualize him typing on his phone while figuring out what to say to you and him studying it, memorizing the lines…

You're so glad it's him you fell for.

“Don’t laugh,” he scolds, but there's a hint of playfulness that lies underneath it. Jungkook inserts his hand under your shirt and starts rubbing the skin of your waist. “Truth is that I was afraid when you started avoiding me. Thought I’d lose you again.”

His vulnerable confession makes you stop completely. There’s a certain melancholy in his eyes when he mentions it, and you feel like scolding yourself for even causing that.

“What I did wasn’t the most mature way to go about it. I’m sorry,” you start. Sighing, you adjust yourself on his lap to get more comfortable. “Uh… I guess I was just embarrassed and wanted to have time to compose myself.”

“What were you embarrassed for?”

There’s heat that spreads to your cheeks. For a brief second, you consider lying, but then you remember honesty. It’s what got you both here. Just being open to each other and communicating.

“Jungkook, no one wants their first I love you said during sex.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” He blinks.

At that, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Exactly.”

“What’s wrong with that, though?” Jungkook furrows his brows. But his tone borders on teasing when he continues, “You know what they say? Make a girl cum one and she’ll love you, make a girl cum twice and she’ll actually tell you she loves you.”

“Oh my god.” you groan, jabbing at his chest slightly and taking off your legs off the couch so that you stop straddling him.

Jungkook bursts into laughter and is quick to grab your waist, effectively pulling you back to him again. It results in you falling haphazardly into his lap, which he takes as an opportunity to cage you in a hug and guide you on your back to hover on top of you.

“I’m kidding, baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “I’m kidding.”

You inhale a sharp breath when he starts kissing along your jaw. “Good.”

“I really appreciate you for saying all those things. I wish I can be as eloquent as you,” He tips your jaw with his fingers so that you look at him. “You’re a poet, __.”

That makes you smile. You secretly like when he calls you by all these petnames... but the way your name rolls of his tongue just hits a lot more different.

“As long as you love me back, Kook.” you say, pushing his bangs off his forehead so that you can look at his face wholly.

“I love you.” He confesses, kissing your lips.

“I love you too.” you smile.

Jungkook pecks your lips one more time and suddenly follows it up with another one. Soon, you’re a giggling mess underneath him on the couch when he keeps it up until it tickles.

“Jungkook,” you whine, wriggling under him and avoiding his mouth.

This only makes Jungkook chuckle in the crook of your neck, halting his cute assault on your lips. When the high of the laughter comes off, you feel a wet trail of kisses down to the base of your neck, and suddenly, Jungkook’s hands are under your shirt, rubbing along the bare skin of your waist. While he peppers open-mouthed pecks on your neck, his fingers trail upwards until they’re on your bare tits.

“Oh,” you let out a low moan when his palm squeezes around the flesh.

It earns a groan from Jungkook, who presses himself closer to you. And it’s when you feel the growing need on his crotch area – his dick poking your stomach as he stays lapping up your neck.

“Jungkook,” you call him again. It takes Jungkook a few seconds to look up at you. When he does, his long hair is a mess on his head and his eyes are hooded in that drunken-like state, lips wet from his previous ministrations.

“Hm?” He hums, gives both your boobs a good squeeze again, making you sigh out. Jungkook continues to touch you, fondling your breasts in his hand as he starts kissing up your jaw instead.

“I want you.” you whisper against the air, closing your eyes at the sensation of his touch.

He feels so good on you. You want to take off your stupid clothes.

“Shit,” Jungkook hisses, giving an involuntary thrust against your crotch that made you both groan. “Fuck. I want you, too, baby— god, let me just—”

You whine when he breaks away from you, but you watch in awe as he makes quick work of kneeling in between your legs, peeling off the white shirt from his body with one arm from the back in a swift motion. He throws it on the floor and swipes his hair out of his face, and in that brief moment, with his toned abdomen and inked arm, you nearly melt.

“Can I take off your shorts?” He asks, but he already has his fingers hooked over the bottom you’ve changed into when you got into his apartment. Giving him a nod, you help him in taking off the garment by lifting your bum off the sofa. Jungkook, ever the expert in the art of taking off your clothes, does it quick, the shorts landing on the floor together with his shirt, forming a small heap. Bottoming out, he takes your thighs in the crook of his elbows and scoot your body closer to his. The angle is a bit awkward from where you lie, and Jungkook makes your cheeks burn when he turns his head to the side to kiss your knee. “So beautiful, baby. Your legs are so smooth.”

“Stop talking,” you say, embarrassed.

Jungkook chuckles at your reaction, already used to it. His face leans even closer and soon he has the tip of his nose on your panty-cladded core. Like clockwork, he takes a subtle sniff, closing his eyes for a little while at the scent, gripping your thighs tighter at the action.

If you weren’t a heating mess before, you’re near on combustion now. Surely, Jungkook knows what this does to you.

“You smell so good. Such a pretty girl,” he grunts. Then, he presses a kiss to your pussy which makes your breath hitch.

“Jungkook,” you let out a whine for the nth time. “Don’t tease.”

He shushes you out, clicking his tongue as if you did something wrong.

You capture your bottom lip in your teeth. Jungkook cups your jaw so you can look at him when he says, “Be patient, princess. I’ll give you what you want. Always.” His voice is gentle and soft, and you know he means it.

Still, you give him a pout.

“I wanna fuck.”

He chuckles, low and sounding so attractive when he brings his fingers through his hair again. It doesn’t help that you can clearly see the outline of his dick getting bigger inside his grey sweats. Damn those joggers for real.

“Okay,” Jungkook smiles down at you. “Take your shirt off.”

You make quick work of removing your shirt off to reveal your naked body to him. At this point, only your underwear and his pants are the only things keeping you apart.

As usual, Jungkook zeroes in on your body instantly, paying the most attention to your tits. According to him, they’re two of his most favorite things in the world and as much as you’d like to call bullshit on that, it really does seem like he’s not joking about it at all.

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook brings your legs down gently, sliding on top of your body and hovering as he quickly fondles your boobs with his huge palms. “Fuck, you’re so soft.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cleavage. Not wasting any more time, he latches his tongue around a nipple, and you automatically hold onto his head for support when the sensation nearly knocks you off the couch.

Despite that little movement from you, Jungkook continues to lap at your breasts. Licking and tugging at your nipple to get it hard, paying attention to the other one by pinching it and simultaneously squeezing. As seconds pass, Jungkook alternates between your breasts, and as he does so, you feel your core starting to heat up, your need growing bigger.

“B-baby,” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter which makes him grunt. “I want you.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers against your skin. You’re about to whine some more when Jungkook finally leaves your chest to pepper kisses down your stomach. When he gets near your nether region, he guides your legs to hook over his shoulder. “These gotta go.” He says about your panties, and you’re more than willing to help him take it off you.

The moment it's no longer on you, Jungkook hisses at the sight, head leaning down to finally plant his mouth on your pussy.

The first lick feels ecstatic just like it always does. With Jungkook lapping up a big stripe over the length of your core, you keep your bucking to a minimum, holding onto his hair instead.

“Taste so fucking good, I can never get enough of you,” he says before he dives in again. Jungkook has this thing when he eats pussy. He always does it like he’s making out with your mouth, his tongue prodding at every seams, wrapping your labia around his lips and being messy with it.

Jungkook breaks away for a while as you hear a sound of spit, followed by the cold sensation of his saliva dripping down to your hole. Soon, you feel Jungkook’s thumb beginning to rub your clit, resulting in a ragged breathing from your lungs.

“F-fuck,” you moan, tightening your hold on his hair you’re sure you’re pulling on his scalp.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. So sensitive,” Jungkook says as he picks up the pace of his thumb. “Ain’t that right, pretty girl? All for me, right? This is all for me, hm?”

“Y-yes!” you squeak out when you feel him prodding his tongue at your entrance again. His finger is fast against your sensitive bud, with his tongue lapping up the juices that eagerly come out of your hole. Jungkook makes out with your pussy like he would with your mouth, and with the tip of his nose touching your skin at this proximity, you can't say you’re not close to the edge. And embarrassingly so – because he’s just gotten started and you already feel like cumming.

“Sh–shit,” Jungkook hisses. He shifts his thumb with his tongue this time in stimulating your clit, using two fingers instead to stretch your pussy out open just so he can see the way it throbs and flutters at his every action. It’s a sinful sight, really, the way you’re so open and wet for him.

Soon after, Jungkook’s getting a little more aggressive in the way he pushes his head closer to your core, jaw working to devour your mound, two digits inserting themselves in your aching hole that somehow satisfies your need to be filled at the very moment.

And you’re a panting mess beneath him – trying so hard to muffle the moans from your mouth. Jungkook’s gotten a total of three noise complaints for the past 4 months you’ve been fucking at his place – and even though he tells you not to worry, you find that it’s hard to believe when the one time that you got to ride in the elevator with his neighbor, she looked at you both like she knew you’ve done something.

Never again.

As if having read your thoughts, Jungkook breaks away for a while to say, “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours.”

Your cheeks burn with heat as you see his wet jaw and plump lips when you glance down. When your gazes meet, Jungkook inserts his middle and ring fingers in his mouth, and when he pops them back out all wet with his saliva, he pushes them into your hole, lax in his movements, looking right into your eyes as he does so.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, holding onto his wrist automatically when he pumps his digits into you faster than his pace earlier.

“There,” Jungkook smirks. “Moan for me, angel.”

“J-jungkook– oh my god– ah–!”

Jungkook goes back to leaning his head down and soon enough, his mouth is back on your pussy, simultaneously sucking your clit and licking around your labia, all the whole sliding his fingers in and out of you, you can feel yourself dripping down the leather of his couch.

“Fuck,” you sigh out, suddenly feeling overstimulated.

Jungkook picks up his pace and you feel a sting on the sides of your eyes as the pleasure begins to build up. Your hold on his wrist falls off and as if he knows exactly what you’re looking for, he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlocking your fingers together as you see him look up at you while he eats you out.

“Oh god,” you mewl, reaching down with your other arm to swipe his fringes off his forehead so you can see him better.

Jungkook stares intently at you as you do the same watching him licking your core enthusiastically. You let your head fall back at a particularly delicious lick, and soon after, you feel that familiar zap that starts on your toes that goes right up to your stomach.

“K-kook,” you call pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat. It feels somewhat dry at this point. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit, saying, “I’m cumming.”

Jungkook keeps his movements of your pussy, not relenting even when you grab his hair a little too tight, and you feel like you’re breaking off his fingers’ joints by the way you’re gripping it so hard.

“I’m cum– there, fuck, that feels so good– I’m cumming!”

The knot in your stomach snaps and you feel a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy when it does so. You hear Jungkook groaning in between your legs, his licking becoming more messy as you feel him use three fingers to rub over your core like a greedy man wanting everything to be his.

“Jungkook…” you sigh out, your fingers easing their hold onto his, already feeling sensitive after your release. You look down at Jungkook only to see the crown of his head as keeps lapping up your wetness. He hums in your pussy and you know you can’t keep him off there for awhile so you wait, running your fingers through his hair soothingly, feeling bad for almost ripping it out awhile ago. “Kook, I’m sensitive.”

“Hm.” He hums to acknowledge you. He licks one last stripe before he lets go, easing off your thighs on the sofa and trailing kisses on your stomach and breasts until he’s eye level to you. “Love how you taste,” he says, kissing you, and your cheeks burn with heat when you feel your orgasm off his mouth. When he breaks the kiss, he looks at you with a smile you can only identify as lovesick. “I love you.”

That makes you melt.

You thought it would feel weird to hear him say it. But you think about the future and how there would be more like this, with Jungkook telling you he loves you in more shared random moments and you can’t help but mirror the smile he has on his stupid handsome face.

“I love you.” you say, initiating another kiss.

When Jungkook presses his body to you, that’s when you feel his cock poking into your stomach. You assume he’s even more rock hard now, given the previous events.

Sneakily inserting your hand between your bodies, you try to reach for the bulge in his pants and when you take a hold of his dick, Jungkook grunts.

“Babe,” he whines and breaks away from your lips and buries his face in the crook of your neck instead.

“It’s completely unfair how you still have your pants on while I’m completely naked.” You say, palming him through his sweats. You feel Jungkook tense above you, and when you give him a particularly hard squeeze, he retaliates with a bite on your shoulder that makes you squeal. “What the hell was that for?”

“For teasing me,” Jungkook says, finally looking at you. He grabs your arm, kisses the side of your wrist before he hauls himself off you completely, planting his feet on the floor while you lay there on the couch bare and cold. But that doesn’t last long as you feel him picking you up with ease — bridal style.

“Jesus,” you bury your face in his chest out of embarrassment. You’re all naked and he’s carrying you towards his bedroom in this ridiculous position.

Meanwhile, Jungkook just laughs and as he reaches his bedroom, he closes the door lightly with his foot.

“I’m not done with you yet,” He says when he puts you down on the mattress. He has that smarmy smirk on his face as he gets out of his grey sweatpants slowly. You’ve had the inkling he wasn’t wearing any underwear considering that it felt like there was not that much of a barrier when you held them there earlier – but it still takes your breath away when he’s left completely in his naked form, stiff and red-tipped cock standing to attention in his lower abdomen. Arching a brow at you, he trudges over to the edge of the bed and with the deep timbre of his voice, he calls you, “Scoot over here, love.”

The new endearment definitely catches you off guard. Love. Is that something he’s gonna be calling you from now on?

You definitely don’t mind.

You follow his instructions and let your body move closer towards the bottom, making Jungkook hum in approval.

“That’s a good girl.” Suddenly, Jungkook yanks your legs to his direction and you gasp in surprise, only to realize the position you’re both in.

He’s standing right over the edge of the bed while he guides your legs to rest over his shoulders.

Jungkook and you have tried a lot of positions since you established your thing, but surprisingly, this has never been one of them and you find yourself curious as to what he’ll do next.

His tattooed bicep flexes as he trails his finger up your naked thighs, making the hairs on your body tingle, especially your pussy which is all bare for his own viewing. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you watch as Jungkook turns his head to the side, and a gasp catches in your throat when he begins kissing up your calf. When his mouth nears your toes, you nearly yank it out of his hold.

“K-kook,” you stammer, but all Jungkook does is pay you a momentary look and a non-committal hum, turning back to your feet again where he presses a tentative kiss to your big toe. When he feels you wriggle it in his hold once again, he turns to you with furrowed brows. You look away. “It’s uhm…”

When you don’t say anything, Jungkook fills you in. “You don’t like it?”

You feel your cheeks burning even hotter. Fucking hell.

“No– I mean. Uh. I don’t know?” You knit your brows, confused yourself. You’ve never really thought about dabbling into the more adventurous aspect of sex but Jungkook has changed that ever since – right now, though, what he’s trying to do is confusing you. You’re sure you’ve never thought about feet and sex at the same sentence – but when Jungkook kissed your toes, that might have—

Oh god. No freaking way he’s trying to give you a foot kink.

“That’s okay,” Jungkook smiles at you warmly. “I was just gonna kiss them, baby. I love every part of you—” he presses a kiss back to your calf again. Staring deep into your eyes, he tells you gently, “But I’m not gonna do anything you don’t and won’t like, love.”

It seems like the new unlocked petname is doing all things because you could just feel the sudden gush of wetness coming out of you as soon as he said that. Jungkook must’ve noticed, paying a quick look to your pussy and scoffing in amusement as he sees it.

“You like that? Love? Hm?” He caresses your thighs again, his other fingers trailing dangerously close to your core. “Seems like me calling you love gets you wet. What about I love you? Does it get you wet just like how it gets me hard when you say it as well?”

When Jungkook presses his thumb to your clit again, you moan, feeling him continue his ministrations. You hold your breath when he begins picking up the pace of his rubbing, and with your position, it gives you an opportunity to spread your legs even more, feeling Jungkook hiss at the action.

“Fuck. You really are so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky you love me,” Jungkook says. He talks sweet but you hear a sound of spit coming from him to your pussy, his saliva dripping down your core, making you mewl. “I’m gonna make love to you all night. Show you how much I love you.” Jungkook whispers as he pushes a finger into your hole, sliding in and out. “Look at what you do to me, love.”

You open your eyes to see what he’s talking about, and when you zero in on his cock, it impossibly became bigger, the tip an angry shade of red now. It looks so tight and rigid and veiny that you want to whine to touch it – but you decide to lay still, anticipating his next move.

“Put it in me,” you say, sounding challenging.

“I will, just gotta make sure you’re all ready.” Jungkook muses before he inserts his finger once again. It glides in pretty easily, and you’re sure that you’re more than ready to take his cock.

Grunting, Jungkook pulls you closer and lets go of one of your thighs to grip his dick. He gives it a good squeeze twice before he puts it against the lips of your pussy.

“Oh god,” you moan at the weight of him.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses. You know he’s feeling the exact same way you do.

When he prods the tip at your entrance, you nearly squeal in delight. Instead, you grip the sheets behind you and look at the way Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration as he grips the base of his cock to enter you fully.

You both moan in unison when the first inch gets inserted, with Jungkook gripping your other thigh tighter and inhaling a sharp breath. Jungkook enters you slowly and arduously, like he’s savoring every second that your pussy swallows every part of his cock.

“You– fuck– you love a big cock but you’re so fucking tight,” He groans as he begins to slide in the remaining inches, getting both your thighs together again.

“It’s your fault,” you retaliate, hissing when he begins to move a little inside you. It doesn’t hurt the least bit – you were already way too wet from your first orgasm on the couch of his living room – but in this position, his cock feels deeper and it just feels so damn good.

“How is it– shit– my fault?” Jungkook grunts, beginning to pick up his pace. “I fuck you almost everyday.”

“Oh god—” you moan when he hits a little too deep at a particular thrust. “You’re so big, that’s why– fuck.”

“Hah.” Jungkook scoffs, bottoming out to enter you again. “Play with your tits for me, baby. Fuck, I love them so much.”

You grab your breasts, thankful at the suggestion because they’re bouncing a little from his pounding and you’re sure they’re gonna be sore the next day.

Needless to say, Jungkook likes what he sees as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you at a steady, slow pace.

There are two sides to Jungkook when it comes to sex. Sometimes, he likes to do it fast with jackhammer thrusts that makes you question his stamina and strength – not rough, because he told you you’re too much of a pillow princess for that (you rolled your eyes at him so hard and he only laughed at you, telling you it’s actually because he didn’t like the thought of hurting you in any way), and you admittedly love that. It’s what got the words “I love you” out of your mouth in the first place. Intense fucking coupled with intense emotions are a combination you now realize is dangerous – but right now, as he pounds into you slowly, making you feel every ridge of his cock, you realize it’s your favorite.

There’s something so intimate about the way Jungkook closes his eyes when he seemingly tries his very best to contain his strength as he enters you with his dick. It’s weirdly hot when he inhales a sharp breath to regulate his breathing, brows furrowed in concentration. Like this, you get to feel every moment of where you both started and where you end.

And when Jungkook leans down on the bed, folding you in half at the action, his dick hits deeper as he plants his palms on the mattress, is cock continuing their ministrations in your cunt.

He grunts in your hair, grabbing your breast and squeezing it hard in his palm which earns a moan from you. Jungkook looks at you and kisses your parted mouth.

“I love you,” he says when he breaks away, kissing your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. And then the space between your eyebrows. “I love you so much.”

You giggle. In the middle of sex. When his cock is snug deep in your pussy.

“You’re a sap.” you can’t help but cup his face in your hand, grinning at him widely.

“Where’s my– shit– I love you back?” Jungkook knits his brows, thrusting in and out of you still. He grips your hip with one hand, and there are balls of sweat on his forehead starting to form at the exertion from his body.

“Of course I love you too, baby,” You say. “Kiss me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait any more second and leans down to capture your lips into an open-mouthed kiss. You don’t break away until his hips stutter, indicating his impending orgasm.

He’s usually the one who whispers all those sweet nothings in your ear when you’re on the brink of your climax, but this time around, you tell him how much you love his cock, how it’s made for you, and how much you want to keep making love to him all night – and that’s how he breaks.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans as he shoots his hot white orgasm inside you, his voice strained as he finishes off with a few more erratic thrusts. “Oh god.”

“That’s it, Kook, cum for me,” you whisper against his lips, your legs already sliding off his shoulder. You can’t help but moan against his mouth when you feel him cumming more.

“I love you, angel.” Jungkook says and kisses you again.

You reciprocate the kiss and hope he feels the smile you have on your lips.

You don’t really expect to cum again – but then Jungkook suddenly palms your ass and taps both cheeks.

“Cum for me a second time.” He says, pecking the side of your lips.

You shake your head. As much as you’d love to, you feel like you’re actually about to break tonight.

“It’s fine—”

But Jungkook cuts you off quickly. “Please?”

And how can you say now when he looks like… that? His sex afterglow puts every man in the movies to shame. And you’re just human prone to giving in – especially when it comes to him specifically.

“Okay.” You say, tapping his cheek with a smile. “How do you want me?”

“Want you to ride me.” He whispers. “Wanna see your pretty eyes while you’re bouncing on my cock.”

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words.

Jabbing at his chest lightly, you roll your eyes at him and let him get off you to position himself against the headboard of the bed. Jungkook grins when you soon plant your folded legs on both sides of him, helping you put his still erect dick inside your still sopping wet pussy.

You both hiss at the sensation, with you closing your eyes at the way he feels. Meanwhile, Jungkook doesn’t waste any second and dives into your breasts immediately, tugging and sucking at your nipples, squeezing and fondling at the flesh, and moaning when you begin to move up and down on his lap.

“S-so good,” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, fumbling with the hair on his nape.

“That’s it, love. Doing so well.” He leaves your breasts in favor of your jaw, peppering kisses there until he makes a stop at your lips again. Jungkook finds solace in holding your hips as you move on your own, and as he watches your closed eyes and parted mouth, he leans back to the headboard, looking at the image of you at the very moment – wishing he could burn it into memory.

“My god– ah—” You begin to speed up your pace, concentrating on the way Jungkook’s cock seemingly hardens at your every drop and fall.

Soon after, you feel Jungkook sneaking his hands in your pussy, and when you plant one of your palms on the mattress leaning back, Jungkook rubs your clit to help you reach your climax.

You feel yourself leaking on him from both your orgasms in your pussy earlier, and at the thought of that, you feel another wave of ecstasy that snaps in the bottom part of your stomach.

“Oh my fucking god.”

You bury your face in Jungkook’s neck the moment you cum, breathing erratically against his skin.

“You did so well, baby,” Jungkook kisses your hair, caressing your head lovingly. “I love you.”

Humming, you let your body fall lax against his, feeling like your bones just lost all its joints, unable to move. Thankfully, there’s Jungkook to take care of that. When you refused to move, he teases you about being a baby and carries you to the bathroom instead where he tells you to pee while he prepares the shower for the both of you.

Minutes later when you’re both done cleaning yourselves, you lay in Jungkook’s bed beside each other. Or more like, you lean almost all of your weight on top of him, your legs and arms wrapped around his body with Jungkook’s arms underneath your neck, serving as your pillow.

“I think I just unlocked a new kink.” Jungkook says, alternating between kissing your forehead and caressing your head.

“You discover one, like, everyday.” You tell him, eyes shut closed. You’re starting to feel sleepy from everything you did tonight.

Jungkook snorts. “Fair. But for the record, nothing beats this new kink of mine.”

“What is it?”

“The I love you kink.”

Even if you can’t exactly see him, you’re sure he has that stupid cute bunny grin on his face.

Chuckling, you say, “God, you really are so corny.”

“Hey, can a boyfriend not be turned on when his girlfriend says she loves him?”

At that, you freeze. Jungkook must’ve noticed because he stops caressing your head. You move away from his chest and lean on your elbow so you can look down at him.

“We’re girlfriend and boyfriend now?” You ask with knitted brows.

Jungkook looks just as confused. “I mean… yeah?”

“Oh.” You nod. Looking to the other side of the room, you ponder, “Well, that makes sense.”

Jungkook looks offended when your gaze falls back to him again. “What do you mean that makes sense? We’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend since you told me you liked me.”

“You told me you liked me too,” You roll your eyes. “But… really? You think that?”

Now, Jungkook’s pouting.

“Wait, you didn’t think we were boyfriend and girlfriend all these months?”

“Eh…” You think about the past four months since you both established an exclusive relationship with each other. You’ve always thought it was just this unlabeled thing. But apparently… “I guess we are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“I literally introduced you to my friends as my girlfriend last month, though?” Jungkook asks.

You jut your bottom lip out. “I have no idea.”

He sighs. “Forget about it.”

“It’s okay. I love you.” You say, blinking at him.

Jungkook visibly melts at that.

“I think you just found a new way to get away with anything…” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

You snicker and cheekily press a quick kiss to his lips.

There haven't been a lot of people who have come to your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect Jeon Jungkook to be one if it – not at all. But what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

Meanwhile, Jungkook thinks the same as he caresses your hair, staring at your serene face while you sleep in his arms, thinking it couldn’t get any better than this.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: cnbl #cnbl drabbles

2K notes · View notes

robbysreaders · 16 days ago

Note

I had a thought for the ex!co-parent Jack story.

1) Did Jack get sad or upset when you dated Chris? Like I can picture Beau letting it slip that you had a movie date with Chris after pickup, and Jack just going what? 🥺 I can also see him having beers with Robby and Jack is just like ‘I’ve really lost her this time’ because he always held out hope that he could prove to you that he is worth a second chance.

2) Did Jack ever go on a date after you split? Or was it more of a I’ve lost the love of my life, and it wouldn’t be fair to any woman that tries to follow her since I am still in love with her.

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader word count: 1.4k notes: Part ? of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack i really need to update my masterlist and reconfigure my parts lol -- this is between the Prequel and Part 1! Thank you for this prompt in my inbox!!!! sorry it took me so long to get to! I mixed both together since i felt like the worked -- hope you enjoy!!!

The last thing you’re thinking about in the months after you and Jack officially split is dating.

You barely have time to fold the laundry, let alone entertain the idea of starting over. Your kid is growing at lightspeed. You’re juggling a full-time job. Jack—while frustrating in a hundred little ways—has always been a reliable co-parent. From the moment you separated, he never missed a pickup or check-in. He’s there when he says he’ll be. That’s more than a lot of people can say.

Still, the whole thing stings because Jack makes single parenting look easy. Natural. Like he was always meant to do it on his own.

And you? You’re exhausted. Every time you scroll instagram and see someone posting a date night selfie, you close the app. Not because you miss dating, but because you miss being someone who wasn’t running on fumes.

You would never admit it, but sometimes it feels like Jack is happier co-parenting with you than he ever was being with you.

But the truth is… he’s not. Jack’s a fucking wreck.

He’s throwing himself into hospital shifts like he’s allergic to free time, offering advice to every resident who so much as breathes in his direction, and texting Robby at 2 a.m. on his days off just to talk about the latest ER policy update. He’s working himself into the ground because he still thinks this is temporary. That if he can prove to you he’s changed—if he cooks enough dinners and shows up to enough pediatrician appointments and keeps the fridge stocked with the yogurt tubes Beau likes—you’ll come back.

Three months. That’s what he gave it.

Three months for you to get it out of your system. The space. The clarity. The breathing room.

Then, month four hits. And Jack starts to unravel.

Robby finds him on the roof after handoff, leaning against the rail like it might hold all the weight in his chest.

“Haven’t seen you up here in a while,” Robby says casually.

Jack doesn’t look up. “You forget this was my spot first.”

Robby nods. Waits. “Tough shift?”

“Tough life.” Jack quips.

“Was waiting for that shoe to drop.”

Jack drags his hands down his face. “I had a plan. Thought I could show her I’d changed. I’m cooking. I’m present. I’ve read five goddamn parenting books. And she still barely looks at me like I’m anything more than a—”

“Co-pilot?” Robby finishes.

Jack nods. Miserable.

“I think I really lost her.”

Robby claps a hand on his shoulder. “Go home. Sleep. Do not come back tonight. I’ll get you coverage. And when i’m off tonight I’m dragging your ass out for a beer.”

Jack gets to their usual dive bar by 7:45, already knowing Robby would show up at his front door if he didn’t.

“You know,” Robby says when he sees him, “I was fully prepared to have to break in.”

Jack shrugs. “What can I say? The love of my life left me and I’ve matured.”

“This is worse than I thought.”

Jack grunts into his beer. “She was, though. Still is.”

Robby sighs. “Brother, you gotta snap out of it. She’s made her choice. You gave her space. You figured out a routine that works for Beau. Now you gotta figure out what works for you.”

“This is working for me.”

“Running yourself ragged and using your kid as an emotional flotation device? Sounds sustainable.”

Jack shoots him a look.

“I’m not saying you gotta run off an marry some girl from an app or whatever,” Robby says. “Just… reevaluate. Figure out what fills your cup. Hell, maybe even go get your rocks off now and then.”

Jack flings a fry at Robby.

Robby grins. “Just saying. A good orgasm never hurt anyone.”

“Alright enough about my dumpster fire of a life” Jack shifts. “Now i get to psychoanalyse you.“

The next day, Dana corners Jack by the trauma board. Jack could kill Robby.

“I have this friend,” she says. “Amy. Divorced last year. Bit of a rut. Not looking for anything serious, just trying to get back out there. Hasn’t dated in over a decade and I told her I knew just the guy.”

“No.”

“She has your number. I told her to wait a couple days before texting you. You’re welcome.”

Jack groans, but two days later, the text comes.

Amy is… fine. They go out a few times. She’s smart, warm, has a killer laugh. But there's no pull. No spark.

Eventually, they both admit it.

“Jack,” she says over tapas one night, “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. But I don’t want to do this just to do it. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Jack says, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re great and if you ever need someone to beat up your ex, you know where to find me.”

Amy smiles. “You’re gonna find your forever, Jack. I think you already have. She just needs more time.”

Jack starts therapy.

One of his Army buddies had given him some resources a while back, but it’s Dana’s offhand comments about “emotional constipation” that finally gets him to make the call.

It helps. Not all at once, but piece by piece.

He starts saying no to extra shifts. Makes room for sleep. Finds himself laughing more when Beau does something ridiculous—like trying to microwave a fruit snack “because it was cold.”

And when Beau mentions a guy named Chris for the third time, Jack doesn’t spiral. He breathes. Notes it. And waits for the right moment to ask.

Jack’s cooking dinner at his place, your typical handoff routine. Beau is sprawled on the floor with a cartoon, crayons everywhere. Jack pulls the roasted veggies from the oven.

“Never thought you’d be a regular Martha Stewart, but I could get used to this”

He chuckles “It’s just one of those meal delivery things. I got a month free from Ellis for my secret santa and just stuck with it – made a joke that Beau and I couldn’t survive on MREs.”

“Beau talks about how much he likes your food so it must be working”

“Hey… before we eat,” he says, awkward, “Beau’s mentioned someone a few times. Chris. And that’s totally fine. I just thought maybe we could talk about giving each other a heads-up before introducing new people to him.”

You freeze, hand stilling over the plates. “Shit.”

“It’s okay...really. I don’t need details. Just a heads-up next time would help.”

“No, you’re right,” you say quickly, and Jack actually blinks like he wasn’t expecting that. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. Not unkind—just surprised. Like he’s trying to remember the last time you admitted fault without a qualifier.

“It all just got a little muddled,” you continue, rubbing the back of your neck. “He’s the dad of one of the kids in Beau’s music class. Recently divorced. Having a hard time keeping his kid entertained on his off days, so I offered up a few playdates. That’s the only time he’s really been around Beau.”

Jack nods slowly. “So you’re dating this guy?”

You exhale through your nose. “We went on a couple dates, yeah. But it fizzled out a few weeks ago. Nothing serious. Beau might still bring him up—playdates for the boys are still happening—but I promise I’ll keep you in the loop moving forward. It’s only fair.”

“I appreciate that,” Jack says, voice low, steady.

He lets out a breath then, like some invisible pressure just eased off his chest.

You hesitate, fiddling with the corner of the napkin on the table. “Any updates on your end? Your love life?”

Jack smirks, eyes twinkling. “What happens between my hand and the shower drain is strictly between me and God, thank you very much.”

You bark out a laugh, caught off guard. “I really struggle to believe that a hot doctor DILF can’t find someone willing to help him take the edge off.”

His face turns bright red. “Well, contrary to popular belief, I’m not exactly rolling in spare time. I’m busy co-parenting the best kid ever, saving lives four nights a week minimum, and publishing in not one but two medical journals—practically in the running for a Nobel Prize.”

You raise a brow. “Oh, is that all?”

He grins. “I keep a full calendar.”

Before you can volley back, a small voice cuts in from the living room.

“Dad, I’m hungry.”

“Hi Hungry, I’m Dad,” he says with a straight face, setting the serving dishes down on the table like he’s done it a hundred times.

You shake your head, smile tugging at your lips.

Same old Jack. Still infuriating. Still too charming for his own good.

#jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt drabble #the pitt imagine #dr. abbot #dr. abbot x reader #dr. abbott #dr. jack abbot #dr. jack abbott #dr. jack abbot x reader #dr. jack abbot x you #p attempts to start writing #ex!reader and babydaddy!jack

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philosians · 5 months ago

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little things | sylus.

✧. Sylus making your favorite drink and breakfast before he heads to bed, because you’re waking up and getting ready to head to work. Whether it be coffee or tea or matcha, he’ll make it. He does this regardless of how tired he is, especially after a business deal (or one gone wrong), because that routine he craves is also a reminder that you’re in his life and he gets to do domestic things like this when he comes home.

✧. Sylus who dries your hair after you shower because you’re too tired to. If you’re tired from work, he’ll take the towel and dry it before grabbing the hairdryer. Sometimes it’s a longer process than others, sometimes it’s not. What’s consistent with it though is that every time you end up falling asleep on him while he’s doing it.

✧. Sylus, who usually asks for his chef to do things, gradually transitions to using his kitchen himself because he finds enjoyment in cooking. More importantly—cooking with you. He finds himself indulging in cooking and baking, too. He finds himself filling with a bit of pride whenever you sink your teeth into one of the cupcakes he’s made and watches your eyes roll back in bliss from the sweet treat. And he can’t help but laugh under his breath at the icing all over your face once after you shoved the whole cupcake in your mouth when you thought he wasn’t looking.

✧. Sylus who ends up carrying your groceries into your apartment every LI does this prove me wrong with one hand and not breaking a sweat whenever he comes over and catches you post-shop. It pisses you off because it takes you at least two trips and a victory-dessert afterward. He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but when he sees you scoff about it, he can’t help his amusement.

“Sorry, kitten. I’ll try a little harder next time.”

“Don’t. That’ll make me more mad.”

He raises his brows, chuckling. “If you say so.”

✧. Sylus is the one that takes you shopping for the first time with his card because you told him you had no idea where to even start with his black card aside from your favorite food stores. His eyes soften as you hide your embarrassment from him. But when he gently grabs your chin and tells you he’d be more than happy to help you make a dent in his bank account, he finds his own heart filling at the sight of your excitement.

✧. When you’re sick, Sylus drops all his business deals for the next week, potentially two depending on how your immune system works against your sickness. He’s in your apartment at the kitchen making food and making sure you’re taking medicine. He’s helping you through the worst of it with a warm cloth on your forehead; using his muscle to gently lift you up on the bed enough to help you eat some soups and drink hot liquid to soothe your throat and incessant coughing so your eyes aren’t watering from the soreness.

Sylus, who frowns in the other room every time he hears your deep and sickly coughs that you find embarrassing waking you from your needed sleep, ends up mentally praying to whatever deity that’s watching over you to make you better faster. Because he hates it when you’re sick; he can do nothing but watch as you teeter between health and illness, and he hates it.

When you’re better, he sees your teasing smile as you joke about how much he cares about you and him taking care of you over the last several days.

But it’s you who’s caught off-guard by him as he places a chaste kiss atop your head and says in the softest voice you’ve heard.

“Now why wouldn’t I take care of my most prized treasure?”

a/n: dusting off my ol’ writing chops hehe! I might do some with the other boys as well. feel free to send in ideas to my inbox! all LIs are welcome!

#༄ kasswrites.#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus x mc #sylus qin #sylus fluff #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #divider belongs to @enchanthings

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soangelbaby · 5 months ago

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Heya baby! I'll be your first request (I've no clue how many are in your inbox), but how about if Clark sees best friend!neighbour!reader changing through her window? How would he react?

eek i’ve actually been working on something soo similar to this so this is right up my alley fr 😏

clark watching his bestfriend who is his neighbor change through her window, he’d absolutely relish in it. first time would be an accident, he’d be stargazing with his lil telescope, but then he sees you out the corner of his eye and he’s completely caught off guard, but can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

you’d be fresh out the shower, hair still damp, white towel wrapped around your glistening body, maybe you just got home and haven’t even bothered to close your blinds, completely oblivious to the man watching you on the other side.

you wouldn’t jump straight into changing or finding clothes, you’d sit at your vanity, doing your skincare before bed, moisturizing your hair, and clark would be watching oh so intently, following your every move—he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s invading your privacy, especially as his best friend, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this, his parents raised him better.

but all that guilt isn’t enough to beat his curiosity, waiting, hoping, you drop the towel, he imagines it falling slowly, just enough to tease him,—wait he has x-ray vision… he could take advantage of this moment right now, and so he does…

while you began blow drying your hair, moving around your room to find a close enough plug, clark started to strip you with his eyes, one flicker of his x-ray vision, and boom—you’re completely bare. clark’s breath hitches as he adjusts his telescope slighty, his free hand drops down to his aching dick, palming himself through his jeans. his eyes almost pop out of his head at your frame, your perfect tits sitting so nice for him, the dip of your spine, the curve of your ass against your little white vanity seat. a tiny flower tattoo on your hip, shit—it’s enough to make him finish right there, his cum seeping through his clothes.

he’s going feral. his hand speeds up, his breath grows heavier, his heart rate increases. “fuck..” he mutters under his breath. his eyes squeeze shut—i mean you’re his bestfriend, he had no business looking at you this way. but all he can think about is if you knew… if you knew he was watching you right now, eye fucking you as you wind down for bed, knew how bad his dick aches for you, how he imagines sliding in and out of your tight pussy, if you knew that he was completely invading your privacy, thinking of all the ways he could take advantage of you… that should be enough for him to stop, to pull his hand away from his throbbing shaft, to shake off these foul thoughts and feelings about you. but it’s not…

instead, it turns him on even more. he imagines the shock on your face at the sight of him so undone for you. would you be disgusted by him? would you feel betrayed and hurt he’s peeking in on you? completely disregarding your friendship and his morals, just defiling it. or would you like it? would you strip for him through your window? would you tease him, knowing just how bad he wants you—fuck that—needs you?

clark lets out a guttural moan as his head drops back, “sh-shiit, fuuck” he makes out as he finishes. his pink lips parted, his cheeks flushed all the same, and his body trying to catch up with his mind. he can’t believe himself, the guilt washes over. he tells himself never again, that next time he won’t let his ‘curiosity’ get the best of him.. but the next morning? he’s sitting at that telescope, his hand already tugging at his shorts, watching you change and get ready for the day…

a/n ; luv this, kinda ties into my pervert clark hc and its just sooo chefs kiss like i want him to stalk me so bad…anywhoo hope you enjoy

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wonderlandwalker · 8 months ago

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Oh Captain, My Captain | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: James discovers a new kink

Content Warnings/Tags: smut, like a lot, mdni, established relationship,no use of y/n, basically porn with fluff, one (1) swear word, only slightly proofread

Word Count: 2.5k

A/n: Filth that I've had in my head for ages and finally spend all night writing because I'm dopamine deficient

James never really understood good luck charms, believing dedication and hard work were what always made the difference, but from the moment you had jokingly brought up being his, he’d been convinced. Because he loved having you at his games, even before you had started going out, at one point in the game or another he’d always try and spot you in the crowd, looking over the stands in search of you. And of course you were here today as well, but the moment he saw you in the crowds his heart dropped. He had to blink to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, because there you were, wearing his sweater. It was such a trivial thing, yet couldn’t stop himself from staring, staring at you and the way you were cheering the team on. The house colours had always suited you so well, you’d even borrowed his sweaters before, but this, this was nothing like that. This was his sweater, the one he had tossed down on his bed earlier, opting for his jersey instead, the one with his name embroidered on it, the one with the captain patch sewed on, and he was struggling to take his eyes off you. The only reason he ended up doing so was because Marlene quite literally knocked him back into reality as they crossed paths. It caused her to lose the quaffle she had been holding, further resulting in her telling him to ‘fucking focus’.

Right; focus. This was the championship game against Hufflepuff, he had to focus. He was the team captain after all, he shouldn't be slacking about, but his mind simply kept wondering back to that title currently adorning you as well. It was like it had awoken something in him that was buried so deep down he hadn’t even known it was there himself, something so feral he hadn’t even known to look for it, but there it was, and it was only by some sort of miracle he hadn’t enswd screwing up the entire match, because they had, in fact, won. That it was a close call chalked he up as a problem for later.

After a win he’d usually be ecstatic, running to meet up with his teammates as he’d land, spurring them on with cheer. But right now as his feet finally met the ground he simply went past everyone as he told them he had to go. He decided to take a beeline for the changing rooms, concluding he was in dire need of a long, cold shower. But as he felt the stream hit him, all he could think about was dragging you under the water with him, about letting his hands roam free against your every curve. And the more he thought about it, the more he could almost feel it, feel how your clothes would stick skin tight to you, feel your red and gold painted nails scratch paths down his back. He loved the marks you’d leave, would treasure them like his own private art collection. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much more time to think about it as Frank knocked on the stall door, letting him know they were all headed back to the common room to celebrate.

So he got dressed to head back to the castle as well. Maybe a walk with fresh air would clear his head. It wasn’t the thought itself that bothered him, he was used to those. What bothered him was their origin, because that was something new entirely. James was used to being so sickingly sweet in even the smallest of things that your friends once banned him from touching you for an entire weekend as punishment, which had been all too entertaining to everyone but him. He liked to gently coax you back onto his bed and make sure there wasn't a centimetre of your skin he hadn't touched. He’d pay close attention to every small change in your breathing, and he’d let his ears feast on the moans he’d etch from you. This wasn’t what was normally stuck on his mind after a big game, but somehow he couldn't think about winning margins if his life depended on it. The only thing stuck on his mind was you.

There you stood, in the middle of the room as he entered. You were surrounded by your friends, hands raised high with shot glasses in praise of tonight's victory. He wondered what your lips would taste like from the cherry vodka you’d like to drink, the liquor usually intoxicating both of you. And usually, he wouldn’t hesitate to go and find out, but something told him that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and this was not exactly the right place for that. So he silently slipped into the room, finding a table of drinks and getting himself a glass of fire whiskey that he drank as fast as he poured it.

As he went to stand next to you, placing his hand down onto your hip, you spun around to greet him, reaching up and kissing him before he could get himself to stop you. And when you pulled back he found himself chasing the feeling, chasing that something that tasted like more.

From that moment on, all he could do was stand there, zoned out, as he tried to listen to what everyone was saying, but all it was to him was background noise. He wondered if it would be considered rude to simply leave without saying a word, he wondered how much longer he had to stay for it not to be. But he suddenly got snapped back when heard a burst of cheers coming from his left side. And as he looked over he could see why, you were standing on one of the coffee tables with Marlene, dancing on top of it with her. As he tuned back in he heard Lay All Your Love on Me playing, he knew you could never resist this song.

Your hips were going along with it in a way he thought should be considered sinful, and he was surely going to hell for the way he was staring. Marlene was nothing short of an accomplice to the crime, she was holding you so close it almost made him jealous. No, not almost, it definitely made him jealous. He had seen you two dance to this song countless times, so why did it bother him now as Marlene dropped onto her knees in front of you when the chorus hit.

As soon as it ended he coaxed you down next to him, catching you in his arms as you stumbled down. But before you could make another move he was prompting you towards the stairs, determined as he walked up to the dorm rooms with you. You weren’t used to seeing him so quiet, to how pensive he was acting. The silence in between you was so thick you didn’t dare break it either, not until you reached the bedroom and he closed the door behind you.

“James what’s going on-”

“You’re wearing my sweater.” It was more of a statement than anything else, and it made you unsure of how to respond, but not wanting to leave him unanswered with how solemnly he was staring at your face you did so anyway, even if it was just rambling.

“I thought it’d bring extra luck, I found it on your bed, I should've asked, I can go change-”

But right then he stopped your spiralling immediately, pushing you further against the door, trapping you against it. “Don’t you dare take it off.” You could see the fire behind his eyes now, feel the dominance that was seeping off him tonight, and that’s when all of a sudden, for you, it made sense. It was new, sure, but it was obvious, and it made you wonder how far you could push him until he’d break.

“So make me stop.” It was such a childish sentiment, but it did the trick. And you weren’t entirely sure how you had expected him to react, but James didn’t waste another second before he connected his lips with yours, clashing against you as he did.

It wasn’t the usual tender-hearted James you were used to, it was a fever dream rush of movement, and from the moment he got what he had been craving after all night, he was insatiable about it. He started to trail kisses down your neck, practically biting a path down to your chest, he let his hands palm over the back of your legs, he made his way over every part of you he could find quick access to. And so you weren’t surprised when he hoisted you up his body so he could walk down to the bed, throwing you down on it the moment he reached it.

He created only a small window of time when stripping himself of his shirt, grabbing your ankles to pull you closer, finding your lips once again. He didn’t let any further time pass before trailing his hands down over thighs, starting to feel how slick they already were as he got higher up.

“You like this don’t you darling, you like seeing me riled up?” His face was harsher than usual, clenched together from the self-control he had to keep all night, and it was certainly doing things to you. It didn’t take much longer for his fingers to find your clit, already rubbing circles onto it as he used his other hand to rid himself of his trousers. His gaze was still focused on you, watching you with more determination than you had ever seen in him before. You were looking back at him with hooded eyes, gasping as he mercilessly continued, your head falling back as you saw him free his cock. He was as desperate as you were, but he was clearly better at masking it, and you were about to plead as he gave you exactly what you wanted. He lined himself up, pushing all the way inside in one, fast, thrust.

There wasn’t a build-up, there wasn’t any hesitation as he simply pulled all the way out, before fully pumping himself back in, setting an agonisingly fast pace that you slowly started to get addicted to. And he keeps giving it to you for a bit longer before he abruptly stops. It makes you open your eyes again to see him, seeing the clogs turn through his eyes as he drops your legs from his grasp before bringing an arm under your back and flipping you so he’s lying on the bed.

You already know exactly what he wants, anchoring yourself with a hand on his chest as you sit up, straddling him, sinking down onto him. This time you try and force your eyes to stay open, determined to see how his eyes roll to the back of his head, even though the pleasure is overwhelming you as well. As you start to move back and forth you can feel him even deeper than before, but you can’t quite set the same pace as him, and once his eyes find their focal point on you, when he roams his eyes over your figure and over the sweater you still had on, you can see his gaze turn dark again. His hands move from where they had settled just above your ass to find a firm grip on your hips instead, forcefully moving them to go faster, finding that same brutal pace from earlier. You can feel his muscles flexing at the action and the combination of it all is starting to turn your body numb from the pleasure, luckily for you, he’s learned to read you like a book by now.

“Let go for me, honey.” It’s a whisper, and you’re surprised at how clear you can hear it with how hazy everything else is right now. And as he feels you cumming a feral groan finds its way up from deep within his chest, and you didn’t know he could, but he starts to move even faster. The only thing your mind is capable of at the moment is to mumble pleas and moan his name like a mantra, you’re not sure how much longer you can take it but you don’t dare asking him to stop either. You can feel how close he is, how desperate he has become for the release. The muscles in his abdomen tense up, his jaw clenched impossibly tight and you recognize his rushed breathing pattern. He doesn’t make you wait much longer before you can feel him spilling into you, unending profanities and prayers of your name leaving him as he does.

And for the first time since you entered the room there is a moment of simply nothing, you relax to find a comfortable position laying down on him, tangling your limbs together on pure instinct. You could swear you zoned out for a minute or two, but now you can feel him trace patterns down your arm, a habit of his that could lull you right to sleep, but you know the night is still young.

“You wanna head back down to celebrate your championship?” You’re sure your friends are in the middle of some muggle drinking game you’d easily be able to join, but James declines the offer.

“Sweetheart, this right here is reward enough for me” You know he means it too, that he’s made it back to his golden hearted self, but per usual, you can't help but taunt him

“Whatever you say, Captain.” The sarcasm in your statement is thick, but as you say it you can see his pupils expanding, his breathing becoming a bit more shallow as you feel him become hard again. He flips you over once more, caging you between his arms as he looks straight into your eyes.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish darling” You’re pulling at his strings again, and you hadn’t done so on purpose, but you’re enjoying it immensely.

“Oh I have every intent on finishing Jamie." At your words James ducks down into another heated kiss, moving one of his hands to finally take his sweater off you, a mischievous grin on his face as he trails his way down your body.

“As your Captain, I suppose I should help you with that.” You’d make another remark back if you weren’t already so lost in pleasure again. He’d made his way down to your cunt, eating you out with a fervor that made you moan out for him as your fingers found their way into his hair. The night was definitely still young, and as the party downstairs continued to drown out the noises you were making, you weren’t planning on making it end anytime soon either.

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