#hood... has gone through some shit

[savage-rhi]

Magensia?

[fairy-angel222]

Everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officers

—in which getting caught stealing with your boyfriend leads to three handsome officers fucking you down at the station.

pairing: officers! gojo s, choso k, nanami k. x fem! reader

cw: smut, face fucking, hair pulling, filming, praise, size difference, belly bulge, fingering.. etc

Your heart raced as you and Toji were stopped in your tracks by a cop car. Attempting to turn around only to be stopped by another swerving in front of you. “Shit. T-Toji? What do we do?”

Watching as a tall, broad officer emerged from the vehicle’s front seat, gulping hard when the blond one’s dark eyes met yours. His face stonic as he stood with his hands in his pockets, letting out a small breath when he looked you up and down.

“Toji?” Turning your head to see your boyfriend long gone, having jumped hurriedly over the hood of the car before sprinting away with the stolen money. You whimpered to yourself, backing up when he began to stalk towards you. Yelping as your back hit a broad chest, arms situating themselves around your waist to steady you. “Careful sweetheart.”

Glancing up through your lashes to see a white haired man looking down at you with a smirk, his eyebrow raised in surprise. “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you stealing for?” he hummed.

And you only looked at your feet after noticing a black haired officer speaking into his walkie talkie about a thief on the loose. Giving a detailed description of your boyfriend. The hold on your waist tightened, and you were flipped around to look up at.. a black blindfold? An idea running through your head to knee him and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about it. I can still see you.” watching as your eyes welled with tears, your hands gripping at the hem if your shirt. “P-please don’t arrest me. I promise i’ll never do it again.” you pleaded innocently.

The man scoffed, his hand reaching up for your face, his slender fingers digging into your cheeks, “Then tell me, what’re you doing stealing huh?”

“Gojo that’s enough.” A deep voice demanded. Gojo letting go of you with the roll of his eyes. Your body immediately putting some distance between the two of you. Only to be met with the sight of the same blond officer finally making his move. His face void of emotion as his muscles bulged through his shirt. The veins on his hand extra visible when he gripped something on his belt.

Your eyes widened when he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, tilting his head down at you with his tone serious. “You can either cooperate, or i arrest you and bring you down to the station. Your pick.”

The third officer walked up to your shivering form before you could speak. Your body being sandwiched between the two towering men.

“Nanami sir, the male that was with her has been arrested. Although he was able to knock down three of our m-“ He stuttered when he caught sight of you, your glassy eyes practically begging him to tell his friends to let you go. “Uhm- our men sir.” He finished with the clear of his throat.

“Thanks Kamo.” Nanami nodded, looking back to you with a hard stare. “Look, kid. I don’t have all day. We already have your little boyfriend and we can easily take you.”

“Not a kid..” you mumbled. Rough hands making their way to your chin, “You’re really taking us for fools aren’t ya? Take her down to the station.” Nanami commanded, throwing the handcuffs to Choso before he was walking away, getting into the vehicle and driving off.

“Should have just been a good girl and answered me.” Gojo laughed, pushing you over to Choso who did as he was taught, pressing you onto the side of the police vehicle before cuffing your first wrist. Your body twisting and turning making him groan, feeling his dick growing hard in his pants.

“W-wait! I’m sorry! I promise i’m a good girl— not a bad guy. Just please don’t arrest me.” you begged, hearing the click of the cuffs on your second wrist before you were being pushed into the back seat. Gojo looking at you through the rearview mirror. “It’s a bit too late for that don’t you think?” Allowing Choso to sit in the vehicle before speeding off. Some officer.

The whole ride was filled with your tiny sniffles as you asked to be let go in all different ways. Each one being met by a stern no which had you letting out a whine.

“You do a whole lotta talking for my liking.” Gojo sighed, “Makes me wanna fill your mouth with my cock to shut you up.” Smirking when that made you stop with panicked eyes.

When you arrived at the station. You were pulled through a hallway and past a room where you saw Toji. Anger on his face as he attempted to get up, scowling at the snickering officer when he was stopped by two pairs of handcuffs.

You were brought into another room, seeing Nanami already sitting there going through your file, his head turning to you, Gojo and Choso when he heard the slam of the door. “She’s still quiet i see.”

“She actually started talking, told her i’d make her suck my dick if she didn’t stop.” Gojo grinned, Nanami shaking his head as you were brought to sit in front of him. Gojo at your side and Choso leaned against the door.

“So.” The man started, clasping his hands on the desk with a sigh. “I see this isn’t your first time being arrested. Mind telling me why?”

You looked down at the glass top with a shrug, “i don’t know.”

Nanami motioned to Choso and Gojo with a nod. Choso closing the blinds of the stretch of glass connecting the room to the hallway. While Gojo pulled you up effortlessly, taking your place on the chair with you in his lap.

“Let’s try this again, mind telling me why?” You chewed at your lip, ignoring Gojo’s hot breath on your neck. “I did drugs, i drove while drunk when i was 15, i’ve shoplifted many times.” You listed shyly, watching as Nanami nodded along to your words.

“Nnh- ahh” you mewled when two fingers squeezed at your clit through your skirt, your thighs clenching as you shifted on the man’s lap. “God, I could do this all day.” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed your file and slid it to the side, standing up and making his way in front of you. Stroking his thumb on your lip, “You’re really making things worse for yourself. Want to know what these records show?” He started, your eyes fixated on his body as he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt.

“They show that you’ve never done anything wrong.” His thumb slipping past your lips, “Show that you’re just a naive soul who covered for her friends and boyfriend on multiple occasions.” Looking up at his eyes through your lashes. “Show that you’re a good girl who trusts too easily.” He finished, watching you whimper underneath Gojo’s touch on your clit as you sucked lightly at his thumb. Your eyes closing with a hum.

“Do you think you’re a good girl baby?”

You nodded, “A very good girl, officer.” you muffled out past his finger, the eye contact never breaking until Gojo spoke. “I think she deserves an apology, doesn’t she?”

Nanami hummed a small yes, removing his finger from your lips and replacing it with his mouth instead. Kissing you softly as his hand reached up to wrap around your neck. Keeping your head steady as you moaned into him, tongues lewdy curling around each other.

Gojo grinned widely. “The fun’s finally getting started.” His eyes falling on Choso who stood red faced in the corner, his dick noticeably hard in his pants as Gojo ushered him over. “Kamo come here.”

Your mind felt fuzzy, wetness pooling between your legs as the large hand around your neck tightened at the sides. Letting out another moan when Gojo’s hand slipped under your skirt, running his fingers along your puffy folds through your panties.

“She’s soaked already.” he announced, chuckling when you mewled at the announcement, your face beginning to heat up.

“And don’t worry that pretty little head about that boyfriend of yours. You’re not the only one he’s been-“

“Gojo..” Nanami warned, his lips still moving against yours. Your heart tightened, eyes threatening to well up with tears as your suspicions were confirmed. Choso’s hand stroked your hair, “Don’t worry about that kay? Just focus on us.”

Gojo’s fingers began rubbing small circles on your clit, tearing your panties off of you when it began getting in his way. Nanami pulled away from your lips with a small smirk, sinking down to his knees in front of you.

Placing your legs onto his shoulders before bringing his face to your dripping cunt. “Make as much noise as you’s like. No one can hear us.”

His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe up your slit. A soft moan escaped your lips when he licked another. “Tastes like fucking heaven.” Gradually increasing his pace until he was lapping at your juices, his skilled tongue feasting on your wetness while Gojo kept up his pace in your swollen clit.

Your head fell back with a mewl, bringing your hands to the blond’s hair but stopped by the metal around your skin. You whimpered, “C-cuffs.”

Gojo groaned into your neck, grinding his clothed cock up into your ass. “Nah, like you better with them on.”

You moaned, back arching against Gojo when Nanami inserted two of his thick fingers into you. Curling them in and out directly onto your spot, your mouth hanging open in a string of cries when he began fucking them into your tightness.

Your noises were cut short by an angry red tip tapping your lips, Choso lightly taking hold of your head to help you sit up. His cock nestled between your parted lips waiting for you to take him in.

“Atta boy.” Gojo mused, watching as Choso pushed his cock further past your lips, a soft gag leaving your throat as he allowed you to adjust to his length. Only half of his cock being able to fit in your snug mouth. Choso moaned, your tongue swirling around his pre cum tip as you suckled on the mushroom head. Beginning to bob your head up and down without the use of your hands to keep you steady, your tongue licking along his vein each time you came back up.

A mewl sounded at the back of your tongue, the noise sending vibrations through Choso’s cock.

Your back arched as a coil built up in your stomach, your trembling legs being held apart by strong hands as your toes curled. Your hips jerking back and forth on Gojo’s lap as the pads of Nanami’s fingers pressed into your g spot. Him holding them in position by simply moving his fingertips on and off.

You cried out loudly around the cock in your mouth, drool running past your swollen lips and down your chin, Gojo leaning to lick it off your skin. “Nnhmf—“ you muffled, your eyes closing as you neared the edge. “ ‘mf closhe.”

The three men watched as your breathing sped up, unable to focus when Choso grabbed hold of your hair and manually fucked his cock down your throat. Careful enough to not hurt you.

You whimpered once more with a choked cry, your body spasming uncontrollably as you squirted onto the blond’s chin. Him groaning into you as he lapped it all up, locking his grip on your thighs when you tried to close your legs around his head.

“Oh hoho, look at her.” Gojo teased, “Can’t stop squirming, think we’re overstiming her. Are we, sweet thing?”

You nodded tearfully, Gojo kissing and biting at your neck while you sucked Choso off. His eyes met Nanami’s, both the men releasing you at the same time making you let out a shaky breath.

“We’re not done with you yet.”

Choso moaned as he neared his release, his abs tensing under his shirt and his cock twitching on your tongue. His head falling back with a loud groan before he was pulling out, fisting his cock roughly then cumming all over your pretty face. The sticky substance falling onto your now exposed chest thanks to Gojo.

Choso’s body quivered lightly as he finished spilling, his face quickly turning red again when he straightened his head to find both his colleagues smirking at him.

Gojo grinned, “Great, my turn.” standing up with you against him, kicking back the chair before bending you over, ready to line his aching cock up with your sopping pussy.

You whimpered when he roughly spread your legs with his knee, your hands still cuffed securely behind your back as your face met cold glass.

Gojo cursed as he eased himself into you. “So fucking tight, shit.” he groaned, fucking sloppily into your pussy with no mercy. His painfully hard cock begging for a release ever since he sat you on his lap.

Gojo’s hand reached up in your hair, pulling you up against him as he slammed into you. Your back arching against his chest with a loud mewl. Gojo watched as your ass bounced with each hit of his hips, your head thrown back onto his chest as you filled the room with high pitched moans.

Your pussy clenched when he brought his hand to your tits, fumbling and groping at the soft flesh before twisting your nipples between your fingers. Pulling out a cry from you at the sensation. Gojo’s pace never slowed its abuse to your tightness. Bullying his cock deeper inside you with a string of grunts.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your loud cries mixed with Gojo’s grunts as he tugged at both your nipples and your hair. You could feel his tip grazing into your walls with each of his harsh thrusts onto your ass.

Your breaths getting heavy as you neared yet another orgasm. “Nn—nnhg, f-fuckk.”

“Language.”

You trembled with a scream of pleasure, clenching down on the white haired man’s cock as he breathed into your neck with deep throaty moans.

You let out whimper after whimper, your legs feeling like jelly as your knees buckled. “Hahhh— nng, close. Ah- ‘m close.” feeling the pressure on your gummy spot intensifying greatly. “A-ahh— nnh, cumming,” you mewled, lips parted in whiny noises as you came.

Gojo groaned, “Shit- clenching down so hard on me. Gonna break my fucking cock sweetheart.” his thrusts lacking any rhythm as he too neared his orgasm. “Come on, fuck, give it to me.” he rasped.

Your eyes rolling back as you gripped onto his shirt through your handcuffs. Your short moans matching his thrusts as your pussy gushed messily around him.

“That’s it.” he dragged out, slowing his thrusts until he was pulling out of your drenched cunt. Pushing you down onto your knees by your shoulders, “open.” Stroking his cock lightly when you obeyed and spilling onto your awaiting tongue while watching you swallow. “Good girl.” as he steadied his breathing. “She’s all yours,” he said to Nanami.

Your eyes moving behind the tall man to find Nanami sat on a chair with his cock in hand stroking to the sight. And Choso leaned onto the gray walls with his shirt in between his teeth as he did the same as Nanami.

“Come here.” Nanami husked. And you stood on shaky legs to waddle over to him. Your eyes widening at his massive cock, its girth the size of your wrist and its length the same as your forearm. Noticing your hesitation, Nanami chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

His hands found their way onto your hips as he guided you over his lap. A scared whimper falling past your lips when he lined you up with his rock hardness.

“Look at me. You can take it okay? Just be a good girl and relax.”

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded, wincing loudly as he sunk you down onto his cock. Your pussy aching at the stretch to let him in. “Ahh-“ you cried, small tears escaping your eyes as he bottomed you down onto him. Feeling his tip poking against the skin of your stomach.

“Holy shit.” Gojo whistled, “She’s fucking bulging.”

You mewled, looking down to see the outline of Nanami’s tip in your belly. The large man simply glaring at his colleague who only smirked.

Large hands held onto your ass, whispering soothing praises into your ear as he helped you grind up and down with the rocking of your hips. You began moaning as the pain slowly subsided. Pleasure filling your veins as Nanami made you ride him faster bit by bit. Feeling the veins of his cock grazing your sensitive walls with each movement.

You let out a string of loud cries, your hips arching when Nanami landed a slap to your skin. “You’re a real good girl, you know that? Obeying the men of the law. You’re a perfect one.” He groaned.

Gojo sat on the table behind you, his camera zoomed into the stretch of your pussy from the back. Nanami unknowingly spreading your cheeks to give off an even better view.

Choso’s cock prodded at your lips, his precum smearing onto your lips.

“Kamo. Don’t wanna save that for her pussy?” Gojo questioned, Choso shaking his head no with a desperate moan. “Uh uh, love her mouth too much.” Your lips parting to suck him into your throat with a hum.

Choso groaned, thrusting lightly into your mouth, his length throbbing when your tongue suckled at his tip. Nanami quickened your pace of rutting on his cock. Your noises drowned out by the youngest officer’s cock.

Your pussy clenched impossibly tighter. Creamy white covering his cock from top to bottom. Your pussy creaming his length with your clit being stimulated by its rubbing on the region near his base.

Gojo made sure to capture it all. Choso fucking into your throat and you milking Nanami’s cock. With mic picking up Choso’s moans and Nanami’s deep grunts.

Your body trembled, body filled with heat as you came undone. Whimpers bubbling in your throat and your eyes rolling back. The sound of your cuffs shaking entering your ears when your fists gripped literal air.

“Come on.” Nanami groaned, “Cum for us.”

You let out a silent breathy cry, your pussy spraying its cream filled liquid onto the man’s thighs and pants.

Choso followed not too long after you, finding it in him to force you to take all of him into your mouth with a gag before pumping his cum straight down your throat. Some of his cum spilling messily at the sides of your lips when he removed himself from the warmth.

Nanami rolled you onto him a few more times, his cock twitching within the depths of your cunt before effortlessly lifting you off of him and settling you closer to his knees. Giving his large cock a wrist circling stroke before his cock was releasing spurts of cum into the air and onto your tits and stomach with a dragged out groan.

The three of you panted, Gojo setting down his phone after saving the video to his eyes only then walking over to you with a key to remove your handcuffs. You fell forward as your body went limp, your palms feeling Nanami’s hard chest under his work shirt as you stabilized yourself.

The white haired man pressed a short kiss to your head. “Did so well.”

After helping you get cleaned up, the trio walked you out of the room. A slight limp in your step as you were brought into the main room. There you spotted Toji, who practically charged towards you. Slapping Choso’s hand off your waist and pulling you into his side. “Don’t touch my girl.”

Choso only walked away before giving you a look. And you sucked in a deep breath before you spoke, “Toji-“

“Before you say what you have to say baby, they charged us for robbery.” Kissing you softly on the same spot Gojo did. “Got any money to get us out of this.”

Just as you were about to speak, a voice echoed through the room. “Y/n L/n? You’re free to go.”

You gave Toji a tight lipped smile while scratching at your arm. “Sorry Toji.. i don’t have any. And since i didn’t do anything wrong i don’t see why i should be kept either.”

Toji looked at you in disbelief. A smirk eventually gracing his face. “Didn’t think you had that in ya.” Watching as you were escorted out by a blond officer who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He would have to use his one call on one of his recent flings to pay the fine.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary Eddie’s had a long day, but being with you is enough to turn even the worst days into something sweeter [fluff, artsy reader, mild hurt/comfort, smut, 3.2k]

A/N This is some of my favorite smut I've written. Still very much stuck on him.

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It’s much quieter in your neighborhood than it is in Forest Hills. No muffled music or raised voices carry from the houses around the cul-de-sac. Tired men don’t tinker on rusty cars. Unleashed dogs don’t sniff their way through ailing yards that aren’t their own. The only signs of life are cars in driveways and lamplight through windows. The golden sun hangs low in the darkening sky.

Eddie makes a final attempt to exhale the weight of the day away before he presses your doorbell. Not even a second later, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

The smile you offer has him convinced that every butterfly he’s ever seen now exists within the confines of his stomach. It’s as if familiarity and radiance itself exist in the way your lips lift upwards to reveal the glint of your teeth.

“I heard you pull up,” you say. “In case you were wondering why I opened the door in two seconds…” you trail off when you realize you don’t sound as convincing as you want. 

Eddie smiles with a fond shake of his head. The action causes more of his curls fall onto his shoulders. He’d never make fun of you for being eager to see him. Especially when half the people in Hawkins care more about his skills beneath the hood than him as a person.

“Sorry I’m later than I said I’d be,” he says as you usher him inside. “Wanted to grab a shower before I came over.” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Eddie's brow furrows innocently at your question. “I love the smell of motor oil.” 

He huffs out a chuckle that makes you bite your lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then he laughs again, deeper this time, like a funny thought has struck him. But he takes a step closer, cups your cheek, and kisses you. His lips are slow and easy against your own.

When he pulls away, you catch the weariness in his eyes, softened by gratitude as he takes you in. He could’ve gone home. He could’ve turned in for the night. But he wanted to see you too. He needed to see you. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” 

You reach out to tuck his hair behind his ears, and he lets you. Any other time, he’d shake it back loose with a playful smirk. Tonight he doesn’t. 

He catches your hand as you pull away, and dots a few kisses over your knuckles. Work and playing guitar have calloused his palms. His steel rings glint in the low light of the foyer. 

“I’m okay,” he says into your skin. You remain quiet in hopes that it’ll coax more out of him. “Long day at the shop.” 

You hum. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. Don’t be. 

“Got you something,” he remembers. "Been holding onto it for a couple days." He realizes he’s empty-handed.

“Shit. I left it in the van.” 

You chuckle as he presses another quick kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go and pulls away. 

When Eddie comes back inside, you’re on the living room couch with one leg tucked beneath you. The TV plays low reruns of I Love Lucy, but you grant him all your attention as he settles beside you. Before you have the chance to ask what’s in the brown paper bag, he pulls out a nice set of drawing pencils and a leather-bound sketchbook. 

Your mouth falls open as he passes them over to you, his expression quietly hopeful. Big brown eyes eager for your reaction. 

“Eddie…” 

“You filled your last sketchbook. And you’ve been needing some new pencils." He rests his forearms on his thighs and licks his lips. "Knew you’d hold off on getting them for yourself so I figured..." 

A smile finally breaks across your face.

“These are the fancy kind too," you note as you look over the pencils. "Thank you so much, baby. Really.” He shrugs like it's no big deal even as he bites back the proud quirk of his lips. It was a privilege to be able to do little things like this when he could.

The leather of the sketchbook is smooth as you flip open the cover to run your fingers over the crisp, fragrant pages. 

When you meet his eyes again, your gaze is soft and observant, like you have an idea. It feels like you're seeing straight into him. He's handsome. Long curls, kind eyes, plush lips. Even then, it's clear he still wears the remnants of the hours prior, though he masks it well.

“Maybe I can draw you," you propose with the quiet hope he’ll oblige. “To break everything in.

"All you've gotta do is sit back and relax. We can talk, watch some TV, eat my snacks." He smiles at that last part. 

After the frustrated customers he had to diffuse today, he can do that. Gladly so. 

•••

The warm lamplight and the glow of the TV cast soft shadows across Eddie's face. His long lashes appear heavy with the relaxed way he blinks at the screen. He’s sunk back into the cushions, legs spread just so, hands interlocked over his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. An empty bowl of popcorn rests on the coffee table along with a hollow box of Jujyfruits. 

Five separate sketches of him now constitute the beginnings of your new sketchbook. He tilts his head to peer over at you when he no longer hears the familiar brush of graphite against paper.

The cushions shift as he straightens up and rubs his eyes with lazy fists. 

“All finished?” he asks, and you nod. “Can I see?” 

When you pass him the sketchbook, his eyes rove over the drawings with the attentiveness of a critic, but void of any harshness or critique. It’s more of an assessment, an appreciation. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Raises the book to get a better look at the hatching technique you used to shade the first sketch you completed. 

It’s a straight-on portrait that he’d faced you for. There’s a sense of ease about his gaze. A warmth paired with an underlying pensiveness. He knows he’s being studied but feels more seen than exposed. 

Except, Eddie's so much more than you’ll ever be able to confine to a couple sheets of paper. Charming in an awkward way, with one of the kindest hearts you’ve ever known. Loving him is as easy as blinking or breathing. So natural it feels innate. He feels your gaze as he studies the sketches.

When he redirects his attention to you, he offers one of his steady, slow-moving smiles that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Always staring at me,” he accuses, too lighthearted to be mistaken for a complaint. 

In truth, you observed everyone and everything. But never with the same admiration allotted to Eddie. There were so many layers that you feared you wouldn’t have the time to unravel them all. You’d never wanted to know the inner workings of another person so intimately. 

After a lifetime of slipping through the cracks, it sure was nice to be seen in an unadulterated way by you. 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur.

Eddie tracks your movements as you grab one of the accent pillows and toss it to the floor at his feet. A second later, you drop down onto it. His breath catches when you place two gentle hands on his knees and spread his legs so you can better settle between them. 

"Hope your day's gotten a little better since you’ve been here," you murmur.

Eddie swallows. Sets your sketchbook aside with a jittery hand. 

“It has." His voice is thick as anticipation stirs within him. "As soon as I walked through the door.”

You hum as he squirms, hyperaware of your touch as your hands drift along his thighs. His head tips back when you palm him through the fabric of his jeans. Warmth ignites in his cheeks and melts to his torso as his pants tighten in the wake of his arousal. Along the thick column of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs with another swallow.

It hadn’t even taken much. 

His legs fall open wider, like a gate, when you begin to unbuckle his belt. The metal hardware clinks with your movements, breaking the hush between you. You pop the button, drag the zipper down. 

“Wanna help me get these off?” A sweet smile plays on your lips as you blink up at him. 

Eager, Eddie lifts his hips, and you help him shuck down his pants and underwear. There's a tent in the front of his boxers when you get to them, and he shifts with the new exposure by the time everything pools at his socked feet. 

Featherlight, your fingertips ghost toward the apex of his thighs, his milky skin dusted with sparse hair. His muscles twitch at the ticklish sensation, and he braces for the inevitable.

Except your touch flutters past where he aches. Bypasses where he strains toward his stomach. Instead, your hands sweep over his hips. Slip beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch along the low part of his stomach where a thin, dark trail of hair leads down to his need. 

His chest deflates on a slow, bated breath. You hide your coy smile in the inside of his thigh in the form of a kiss. Right over the small smiley face inked into his skin. Eddie huffs in flustered amusement. 

“This is—” 

“One of your favorite tattoos of mine,” he finishes with flushed cheeks. 

You grin in feigned surprise. “How’d you know?” You trace your nails back down to his quivering thighs. 

His arousal kicks up when you grant him the gentle brush of your fingertips over the rounded fullness that rests heavily between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” he finally sighs, dark eyes molten when they find yours. 

“Teddy,” you coo back. 

He doesn’t have time to brace when you begin to pepper an alternating line of kisses up his thighs until your lips find the part of him that needs you the most. 

His breath hitches. “Baby—”

A pleasured shudder rolls through him as you kiss up the elegant curve of the thick vein along his underside. You follow the path of his need all the way to the rosy tip, where a wet, gleaming pearl beads in a testament to his want. You suckle it away. Savor it.

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, body taut as you spit over him and wrap a secure hand around his base. The slick heat of your palm makes his hips stutter as you begin to pull upward in a steady tug. At the top, you circle your thumb around the mushroom tip. You dedicate another swipe of your thumb to a slow trace along his slit. 

Eddie is warm and rigid in your hold, beautifully at your mercy, and he knows it. Doesn't mind it. The full hum in his throat unravels into a low, shameless moan when his lips part. 

“Yeah, baby?” you meet his gaze and hold it. Heat pools between your legs. “You feelin’ good?” 

Eddie reaches out to stroke his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Please don’t stop.” 

You wouldn’t dream of it.

As you continue your languid strokes, you mouth at his inner thighs. Kisses, nibbles, licks. He’s so wound up that all of it gets to him. Pleasure tugs low in his gut with a radiance he can feel in his fingertips, his toes. 

With a practiced gentleness, your free hand lowers to massage the velvet weight of him that you’ve neglected. A rugged sound escapes him as he writhes. Even more so when you move to lap him again, this time taking him halfway and working what's left over with your hand. 

You pull away to trace your lips along his shaft, mindful of every inch and the tell-tale shudder that startles through him. You peer up through your lashes to find desperation etched across his features. 

He cups your cheek to get you to pause. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he insists. "Wanna feel you—lemme feel you.” 

You clench around nothing as he encourages you upwards. 

After you shuffle to your feet, you push your lounge shorts down, followed by your panties. Eddie strokes himself, gaze heavy-lidded as he watches. 

No sooner do you move forward to straddle his lap, standing on your knees with your hands braced on his shoulders. His hands find your hips, but one drifts lower in a curious glide between your parted legs. He graces through your slick folds, then brushes his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s gauging if you’re ready for him, but you nearly crumble forward at his thoughtful touch. 

“So sensitive,” he notes lightly. A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as they find yours. 

“Because of you.” You pout as you reach down and align him at your entrance. 

He catches at your slick warmth and whispers a string of curses. It shouldn’t already be this good. You shouldn’t already be this ready. But both things are true because the two of you have somehow stumbled into your own little perfect world. Both his hands find your hips again as you ease yourself down to welcome him in. Inch by slow inch, every vein and ridge. 

You don’t realize you’re whining until you’ve sunken to accommodate all of him. Eddie runs a soothing hand up your back as you lean forward into his chest in an encompassing haze of fullness. Already, he’s touching that devastating part of you that’s so thoughtfully tucked away. He’s the only one who’s been able to reach it. To find it as if the path had been carved for him alone. It’s a homecoming in its own right. 

“You feel so good,” he sighs the news like it's hot off the press. Like the words can't make it out of his mouth any sooner.

For a brief moment, stillness prevails as you adjust around him. You tuck your nose into his hair, where the subtle scent of his sweet, herbal shampoo lingers. Instead of canting his hips upwards like he so desperately wants to, he lets you have the moment. Presses a kiss to the bulb of your exposed shoulder, then allows his hands to find the hem of your tank top. You move to pull it over your head. He does the same with his own shirt, biting back a groan as you shift over top of him. 

Your nipples pebble in the cool air, even more so when he cups your chest and circles them with his thumbs. The sensation throws you into a shiver that jumpstarts a roll of your hips. Eddie’s fingers return to your waist in a silent encouragement. 

Before long, you leverage the bend at your knees to lift off him, then lower yourself back down. A rhythm soon forms, Eddie’s hips rise to meet yours. His thighs quake as a strangled sound of relief spills past his lips. 

A whimper escapes you as an invisible string pulls you forward to dot a few languid kisses across the apple of his cheek as you continue to ride him. 

“Oh—shit,”  he exhales shakily. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.” He sounds panicked and awed all the same. 

All you can do is hum at his words. Every time you lower onto him, it feels like he manages to reach a new depth that makes you want to crawl away. Yet your hands find his tattooed chest for the sole purpose of feeling more of him, his warm, dewed skin. A shiver shakes him when the tip of your nail grazes over one of his nipples. Spurred on, you pinch the peaked flesh next, which earns you a particularly hard thrust as he groans. A jolt of electricity rushes straight between his legs with the threat of being his undoing. 

“You’re gonna make me come, angel.” The shameless, exasperated way he says it makes you clench around him. 

You lower a hand to rub tight, purposeful circles over the tender bud between your legs, the pleasure sharper in the wake of his words. 

“I want you to come,” you attempt to keep your voice steady as you lilt. “Want you to fill me up. Want all of you.” 

Eddie groans and sags back into the cushions in an air of disbelief. Somehow you’re real. Somehow you chose him. And you’d never led him to believe that things should be any other way.

You lean forward in pursuit of him to kiss his throat, then up along his jaw until you’ve arrived at his bitten lips. The kiss carries the neediness of being on the edge. 

“Always gonna want you,” you whisper heavily against his mouth.  

Eddie whimpers. “You have me.” His thighs tense beneath you as he teeters on the brink. This time, when his hand finds your waist, it’s to ground himself in the intoxicating rock of your hips. 

You kiss him one last time, saliva slinking between you, before you touch your dewy forehead to his. 

“Come with me,” you frantically encourage. “Eddie, please—” 

The broken sound that punches out of him sends you into the thralls of a reckless release. It’s swift and forceful like a lightning bolt zipping from the sky. Your walls flutter around him as pleasure courses in every direction. Eddie has no choice but to let go. He jolts beneath you like stricken earth. His stomach clenches in time with each pulsing wave of release. 

Eddie’s neck becomes your hiding place as aftershocks ripple through you both. Your lips begin to press more deliberate kisses to the space where his neck and shoulder join. Beneath you, he sits like putty and softens within the warmth of you. He’s attuned to every small shift you make. You’re not quite ready to relinquish the fullness. 

A steady, clammy hand glides up your back and settles at the nape of your neck. When you sit up to meet his tired, satisfied gaze, you're struck by a surge of fondness. Of love. If you could erase his bad days, keep them from ever touching him, you would. But you can’t. They’ll come, for both of you, whether you like it or not. 

Still, you had this. Each other. That’s enough to make life a little sweeter, a little kinder. Even on the days that are anything but. 

Eddie’s lashes flutter when you run a gentle finger down his nose. “You okay?” you ask. 

He shifts beneath you, wincing at his forgotten sensitivity. A small smile pulls at his lips as he finally nods at your question, contentment clear in his eyes. 

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise, sweetheart.” 

He offers his pinkie as a seal of truth. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

MORE EDDIE

ALL MASTERLISTS

[soulsforsales]

warnings: blood, injury, the reader has no self-preservation whatsoever

You sit with your back against a brick wall in some Gotham Alleyway. The men who tried to hunt you down when you were just trying to get home to your grumpy ass (sickly sweet) boyfriend now lie on the ground with definitely more than just broken ribs.

Apparently, one of them was too sly and too fast. The knife was lodged in your side before you knew it. You knocked him out cold but now you are stabbed. And you can’t move. And yes, it really fucking hurts.

You’re bleeding, have been for a few minutes now. But that’s okay. You were bleeding last week. And the week before that. And maybe just yesterday?

You already sent the stress signal to your boyfriend who just happens to be the big, bad, brooding Red Hood. So, your knight in shining red armour must be here any minute.

You have a smirk on your face as you examine the bodies around you. You’re the only one left sitting up. The knife is still lodged in your side, both your palms cupping the area around it, and, despite everything, the thud of boots nearby, makes your heart lurch.

Soon enough, he steps out of the shadows. Jason is in full Red Hood gear, arms crossed, disappointment coming off of him in waves and of course, that sweet concern you love so much. He looks at the bodies, sighs, then looks at you, and he’s by your side before you can register it with your clouded brain. He crouches, looks at the wound and takes off his mask.

“My hero,” you mutter, smirking lazily, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Jason’s jaw clenches, “I swear to fucking God— what is wrong with you?” But he’s already cradling his body to yours in a way that makes it hurt surprisingly less.

You pout, “what? I thought you’d be proud. I took them all down.”

Jason shakes his head and picks you up bridal style. He curses when you wince. “You’re not getting out of the house for two months. That’s it. You’re done. This is — what — the third time this month.”

Even if you are and have been trying to act tough, your side is beginning to feel numb, the blood has seeped in through your spandex and your head lolls against Jason’s chest, “You can’t ground me.”

Jason walks out of the alleyway, holding you firmly but so gently all at once. “I can chain you to the fucking bed.”

You crack an eye open, not even realising they had dropped close until now, “Kinky.”

Jason shakes his head, exasperated and so damn scared, but you’re too gone to see it, already passing out. “I’m done with your shit.” He mutters, with absolutely no heat in it.

You whimper out of pain against him, fingers curling in the leather of his sleeve, “mhmm… no you’re not, you love me.”

And damn you, because he does. He really fucking does.

[cvnt4him]

Save a horse-, ride a what?! ᯓ izuku midoriya.

synopsis ᯓ ❝ you meet a well-known cowboy around town! he seems awfully sweet and charming. He gets you out of a pretty sticky situation; little did you know it came with a price.. ❞

warnings ➪ bondage, spit/drool, fingering, ass slapping, choking, sir kink, size kink [slight], m4f

day 5, ೃ࿔ 𝑐𝑣𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯!

You were moving in from the city to the country. It was a sad change you weren't exactly ready for. Your grandparents were welcoming you in with open arms after you had to move. You'd been driving for some time already and had come up to a sign.

You sigh as you read the sign.

❝ WELCOME TO ‘TAFU! THE TOWN WITH PEP! ❞

It was cutesy to be honest. The whole aesthetic was welcoming.

As you sigh and drive through the dusty road past the sign you buckle yourself up for your future. The town wasn't exactly within range, it was a couple miles away. You'd be driving for quite some time.

A couple minutes pass as your car starts making odd noises. This has never happened before and to be honest it worried you. You try to push past it only for your car to literally shut down.

“ what?! no! no! no! damnit....”

You groan in annoyance and bang your head against your steering wheel. You let out a heavy sigh before remembering your phone!

With the slightest bit of hope still in you, you fish your phone out of your back pocket only to see....

“ there's no fucking service?! COME ON.”

You yell out. Anyone near would've been able to hear. You try your hardest not to just cry before you get out of the car to check the hood. Maybe it was your oil? Not that you knew shit about it...

You'd been on the road for about 5 hours. Who knew the city was that far away?

You lift the hood of your car to see smoke literally emitting from it. What the lovely fuck. You groan and just stare at it absentmindedly. What the fuck were you supposed to do?! You didn't know dick about cars..

That was your final straw. You slammed your hood shut in anger yelling out and stomping around before falling to your knees in the dirt.

You sobbed your eyes out. You'd gotten evicted from your small apartment in the city. It was expensive rent to pay and you only worked as a meet barista. The pay wasn't enough for you to live comfortably. You hardly ate and you tried your damnedest to pay your bills on time.

But it still wasn't enough. You felt so shitty for getting evicted yet even then you didn't cry. When you called your parents to see if you could come back home, or even for just a little bit of advice. They turned you down. Not offering a helping hand or friendly advice. They didn't care.

Even then, you didn't cry. You felt you had no one and nothing. You thought you'd be living in your car in the city. But even then....you didn't cry. You'd gone through so much and hadn't cried. It was about time you finally let it out.

The only reason you decided to move to the country was because in the middle of packing up your things you got a random call from your grandfather, telling you to come out to the country and see him before he died.

His humor was always different and you awfully enjoyed it. You couldn't help but to ask if you could say for a couple of months till you get back into your feet. Within an instant he said yes. You filled with utter joy. You wouldn't be lonely nor homeless!

But the drive was just so far.

Clearly.

You're stuck in the middle of fucking no where with no directions and no idea if you're actually going the right way, besides the sign you'd past before.

With your head buried in between your knees you hear distant footsteps. None of humans however. The way the steps clicked and clacked as they walked across the road sounded far too different from a humans footsteps.

“ y’ alright there, darlin’?”

At the sound of the husky deepish voice your heart jumps in your chest and you were quick to lift your head. Your eyes widened at the sight of the man atop of a beautiful and what looked like a well taken care of black horse.

The man was wearing a cowboy hat and a scarf around his face. You could hardly see anything other than his eyes and tufts of his hair peeking through the front of his hat.

You gulped and wobbly stood on your feet. Shaking off the dirt that got onto your pants and your butt. You clear your throat and try to speak before coughing.

The man raised an eyebrow and looks you up and down. Seemingly judgmentally.

You nervously smile and point to your car with a chuckle that seemed to never end.

“ yeah uh, hah! My erm- car just uhm, hahah! randomly stopped working uhm.. yeah! hahahah! hahah! hah.. hah.... ahem.”

The man scoffs before hopping off of his beautiful horse with a grunt. He stands tall, roughly by guessing around 6 foot? Wow...quite an intimidating height.....

He walked towards you, his footsteps heavy and dragging against the dirt. You leaned back against your car as he kept coming towards you. You gulped down hard trying your hardest to fight the warm feeling rushing to your face.

He stops directly in front of you. You closed your eyes before opening them again, it was as if he teleported in front of you. When you reopened your eyes your sight was met directly to his chest. You gasped before you looked up to him, who was looking down at you through his.....green eyes?

They were quite dark for green eyes....

He nodded towards your car before speaking,

“ may I take a look?”

His accent was thick, definitely fitting for the look. You gulped once more before stuttering out an “mhm..”

He tried moving to the side to take a look before you move to that side as well to get out of his way.

“ oh—! shit, sorry I'll just uhm...”

And to your luck, it happened again. You could tell he was quickly irritated and you groaned to yourself face palming and mumbling something before you felt large vient hands on the sides of your arms.

“ move.”

His voice was deep and undeniably sexy....he moved you to the side of him as he took a quick look at your car.

It didn't take him long to start working on it, rolling his sleeves up and getting to work. It was heart warming honestly... This random sweet man was helping you with your car..for free?! He didn't ask for anything. Literally didn't even say much..he just helped.

You admired him as he worked, he soon took off his hat and wiped the sweat on his forehead he set the hat down on the roof of your car before he got bacm to work.

You seen his luscious curly hair glow at the sides of his head, the forest green color was quite unique and oddly attractive. The sun shined in his sweat glistening body in such an enamouring way... You felt guilty for staring at him like this but damn can he work.

His horse neighed in your ear, scaring you making you scream and jump back. The side eye he gave you was so fucking embarrassing, he gave you the stankest eye before rolling his eyes and getting back to work.

You gave him an awkward smile before you saw him getting back to work. The way you wanted to commit horrible animal abuse is quite inhumane and probably would've landed you in jail. You swear the horse did it on purpose.

Within the next couple of minutes [45 minutes.] He was finished working on your car. He was sticky in sweat and car oil, he had taken his mask off to clean himself the best he could sighing heavily as he could finally breathe fresh air instead of the fumes from the car.

You swear this guy is a Greek god. His forearms were messy albeit but hot damn was he fucking sexy. His had boyish freckled peppering his cheeks and the longer you looked at him the more adorable he got.

It wasn't until he finally spoke to you that you realized 'damn.....that's a man....'

“ so the problem with your car is.......”

He started talking about god knows what and you couldn't even hear him. The way he looked you directly in your eyes with no fear whilst he spoke was....breathtaking.

Your eye moved down to his lips and the way they moved as he spoke. Slightly chapped but a hue of pink in color. His teeth were surprisingly pearly white aswell.... Now that you think about it, the smell that emitted from him was fucking sexy too. It was a mixture of sweat and just a bodily musk that smelled oddly delicious and alluring..

It suited him so well. Despite his boyish facial features he was nothing less of a man. He was strong, knew things about cars, polite for the most part, and just helpful. He was a divine human being with sexy features.

“ ...-so, ’ts safe to drive. course, i would urge you to please be careful until ya’ get it looked at by a professional. say...where er’ ya’ headed anyway?”

You didn't respond. Just so starstruck by this heavenly man.

He looked you up and down once more before paying a little more attention to you. His eyes followed the best they could to where you were staring, which wasn't his eyes,

His lips. The devilish smirk that appeared made you mindlessly bite your own. This time when he looked you up and down, he took all of you in. Inhaling to smell the sweet aroma that left you.

You were absolutely gorgeous. He scoffed to himself.

“ ma’am?”

The way you literally jumped back into reality was nothing less of embarrassing, the look he was giving you. You wanted to die inside of a hole. All of a sudden you felt as if you deserved for your car to be fucked up.

“ I-I am so.. so sorry I uhm...what- what did you say?”

“ why don't you let me give you a ride t’ where yer headed. might be safer than t’ drive that ol’ thing.”

“ that was my first car...”

“ ‘fraid to leave ‘er? think somethin’ bad’ll happen to ‘er?”

He teased you with a chuckle. He grabbed his hat from the top of your car and his scarf as well and tucked it in his shirt.

“ tch. whatever.”

You respond defensively walking towards his horse with your arms crossed. You nodded to the horse telling him let go and he quickly abliged.

He walked in front of you and hopped on top of his horse. Ushering for you to hop on.

You look at him as if he's crazy. There was no way in hell he actually expected you to get up there without his help.

“ awwh, does the pretty princess need upsies?”

He coos at you.

He snickered to himself before hopping down and hoisting you up with ease on top of the horse. He got back into and grabbed both of your arms and wrapped them around his waist. The way he pulled both of your arms made your cheek hit his back which was surprisingly very muscular and toned....

“ hold on tight...princess,”

The ride was long and you weren't sure if you fell asleep or not. Once you got to town you admired the scenery. Looking at the local shops and the people in town. They all seemed to wave at the two of you.

“ evenin’ zuku.”

“ howdy zuku!”

“ hello, zuku darlin’!”

You looked up to the green haired man who's tough demeanor seemed to change. He looked much more at peace, calmer in a sense. He had a bright smile and waved to everyone who spoke.

“ where are ya’ headed princess?”

“ uhm, I don't actually know.”

“ whaddya mean ‘you don't know’?”

“ I'm moving in with my grandparents and uhm. They haven't exactly told me where they lived. I don't get how they even managed to call me when I literally tried to call them before you came to fix my car and I had no reception.”

The scoff he let it was likely one of disbelief and annoyance.

“ y'know, just because we live in a lesser part of the world doesn't mean we're broke. We have reception. You weren't in town where your car broke down so ‘course you didn't have any service. ”

The way he spoke was definitely laced with attitude.

“ what's yer’ name.”

“ wh..what?”

“ yer’ name??”

“ oh... uh, y/n.”

“ and yer’ last?”

“ huh? oh, uhm l/n..”

“...l/n huh.. I know where yer’ folks are.”

“ you do!?”

The silence after you spoke was enough to make you cringe so far back into your skull you were sure you seen your next life.

You had your eyes closed as you guys rode the extra mile to your grandparents place. Once he spoke you opened your eyes to see a familiar house that hadn't much changed since you were a kid. The nostalgia hit hard and brought a smile and almost tears to your face.

“ we're here.”

You quickly hopped down literally almost falling asleep you did so. You rushed to the door and rang the door bell repeatedly until you heard an old man's voice.

“ I'ma comin’ damnit?!”

“ who the hell..— oh! pumpkin! Is that you!?”

“ hey papa!”

You laugh as you hug his tightly hearing a groan leave him.

Your grandmother came to give you a hug as well, the three of you standing in front of the door and laughing all together.

Izuku would be a lie if he said this wasn't sweet and wholesome. Because it wasn't he knew it was. He thought you were awfully pretty as well. It sucks you were a stereotypical bitch.

“ oh zuku, dear is that you! how is your mother doing these days!”

“ she's doin’ just fine Mrs, l/n. I've gotta head out y'all enjoy yer’ evenin’.”

“ nonsense dear, why don't you stay f’ dinner! you did us such a pleasure and brought our pumpkin home to us! It's the least we can do!”

“ well that's awfully sweet n’ all but I've gotta-”

“ c'mon in!”

Your grandpa was quick to get his horse to relax enough to lie down whilst izuku was on its back. Which izuku wasn't even skilled enough for that to happen.

Izuku stuttered on his words as he tried his hardest to say no but your folks just weren't budging. They were dead set on him eating with you all.

Izukus eyes turned to yours defeatedly while you looked at him with wide eyes and batted your lashes at him.

He sighed and finally agreed.

As you all say down for dinner you all ate chatted and you learned new things about your grandparents a few things about the towns cowboy.

Despite being handsome and awfully kind, he was humble, caring for all, and quite humorous.

All the jokes he shared with your grandparents were sweet and wholesome..... at first.

“ so y/n deary, any relationship we need to know about?”

“ yeah pumpkin. I want great grandchildren!!”

Your grandpa and grandma joked. Izuku wasn't..not, curious about your relationship status..

“ well I had a fiance but uhm... He uh, cheated on me.“

Izuku nearly choked as your grandparents tended up for bringing up the dating topic.

“ oh...I'm sorry to open that old wound, deary.”

Your grandmother apologized to you, reaching out to hold your hand. You smile and izuku just stares at you. No thought behind his eyes.

You gulp down and look back to your plate, playing with your fork.

“ yeah well, he wasn't right for ya’ anyways!”

“ what you need is a strapping young man, like zuku here!”

Your grandfather spoke proudly as he points to izuku with a smile. Izukus eyes wide as he lets out a “hm“ in acknowledgement.

Your grandmother claps and giggles.

“ oh yes! That would be amazing! Imagine that!”

“ yeah....imagine...”

You sulked in your chair. It seemed like izuku was more distant than when you first met. It's not like he was just talkative at first but now it's like he doesn't even want to be in your presence.

“ hm, yeah maybe. I mean who knows.”

You perked up and turned to the man next to you eating. You eyed him for a moment until he glanced at you. Your grandparents just silently watched the interaction go down. He looked at you with those dark and daring green eyes..God it's like you could get lost in them.

“ you should take ’er out! how about she walks you home!”

Your grandfather insisted.

“ what? I'm sorry I don't mean to offend, Mr, l/n, but it's far too dark out there for a lady like herself to be walkin’.”

The way he spoke was just so...perfect. he was perfect. He cared about you in some way. Maybe you hadn't fucked up after all!

Maybe...you had a chance!

“ I uhm.. don't mind walking with you, if you'd want me too that is....”

You shy away from him and his gaze as you insist. He looks at you before back to your grandparents.

“ no.”

His voice was cold and harsh. One word cut you like a knife. You gulped down and bit your lip, the rejection really really hurt.....

“ I'd better head out. night ’all.”

Everyone said their goodbyes as izuku walked out and headed back to his place in his horse. You closed the door behind him and walked to your bedroom. It was empty and had a nice bed however. It was quite big and they gave you fresh sheets and a blanket and pillow. Straight from the drier.

You sigh and lie down. You didn't have a fresh change of clothes so your grandpa agreed tomorrow he'd take his truck down to where your car is stranded and would pick it up.

The next day had came and you were able to shower! Your grandfather had actually gone in the middle of the night and made sure to have it back for you once you woke up!

You thanked him and showered putting on some cute little skirt and white shirt and some random accessories you could find.

“ y/n, deary, do you mind heading down to the shops to fetch me some milk for breakfast! It's not too far from here!”

“ alright granny.”

You headed out and got yourself ready for the walk. You looked at your car as you past it by. Your first baby, lord knew how long it'd be before you got to drive it again. He also knew it'd probably be hella expensive.....

Upon arriving you see tons of people out. They were all nice enough to give you a hello or how are you doing today which was sweet. Most people in the city just mean mug you or bump into you. It's a nice change.

You walked into the market and grabbed the milk quickly fishing out your wallet. Just as you were about to leave you bump into none other than the towns local cowboy himself.

“ welcome zuku’, here f’ yer’ regular?”

“ yup.”

He looked over at you now standing beside him to quickly get out of his way. He nodded at you before grabbing the bags the person at the front had for him. Paying quickly then walking past you.

“ hey! hey wait!!”

You yell out to him causing him to stop and turn to look at you.

“ somethin’ the matter?”

“ uh.. I uh.. just. would you like, maybe wanna grab a bite? some time? maybe.....?”

His eyes widened at your sudden ask. It's not like izukus never been asked out before. He has tons of people constantly complimenting him and telling him how sweet he is. He's had tons of ladies swoon for him and even mothers try and get with him. He just normally thought dating was a waste of time.

Izuku is a hard working man and of course he's dreamt of having a wife and settling down and starting a family but he had to take care of his mother first. He wants to make sure that his mother has all that she needs and wants.

“ if yer’ asking because of what went down durin’ dinner the other night, —”

“ yes well I just-”

“ I only said that to keep them offa yer’ back. y'know make them think about it. I don't have time for somethin’ as silly as datin’.”

“ oh-!”

Oh.

He turned around and hopped back on his horse holding his back tightly as he looked down at you. The way your lip quivered lightly and you looked at the ground. It was quite the sight to see....maybe he liked seeing you crying. He smirked.

“ but uh, maybe I could still show ya’ a good time, hm? y'know for me fixing yer’ car n’ what not.”

You were stunned as your head shot up to meet his gaze. The shit eating smirk he had on his face as he sat atop of his horse.

“ hop on princess, lemme take ya’ back and we can uh....get down to business, eh?”

You gulped and climbed atop of the horse the best you could, literally falling off. He sighed at the pathetic attempt and hopped down to put you up there.

“ hold on tight princess. unless you uh, know how to ride?”

The way he looked back at you with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, his smirk was sexy and so was he. You could tell he meant something by his words but you were speechless. You huffed at him before wrapping your arms around his waist.

“ go on n’ take that inside so we can get.”

“ oh, okay...”

“ good girl.~”

You did exactly as you were told. The excitement and butterflies that swam around your tummy nearly made you throw up, all of a sudden your legs felt weak.. you placed the milk down before explaining to your grandmother you were going out with izuku. Of course she had no problem with that ushering you out the door and telling you to have fun with a wink.

He helped you back up and the two of you rode down to his house.

“ this is where you live...it's beautiful.”

“ yup, ma is out with a couple of ’er friends n’ what not so ts’ js me. I've done all I've gotta do so I'm pretty much free.”

“ ah, I see.”

He unlocks the door and holds it open for you to enter first. He was a true gentleman.

You looked around as he closed the door behind the both of you and set his hat down. You both took your shoes off before he directed you to his room which was quite fitting for him....for the most part.

“ Is that....all might? that actor from that one TV show? what was it....”

The blush that rushed to his face was adorable to say the least. He groaned and closed his closet door which held all of not most of his all might merchandise.

He sighed and plopped onto his bed, lying back and closing his eyes. You sat on the literal edge of his bed with your knees together and your hands onto them, your back stiff and straight as a board.

Izuku looked at you to see what you were doing. Surprise surprise, you were literally js sitting there looking around.

“ ya’ can relax y'know. we're supposed to be hanging out, sit back and make yourself comfortable I don't mind.”

You jolted at his voice. It was quite soft actually. You cleared your throat and got more comfortable on his bed sitting with your legs crossed and you faced him.

He hummed and watched you closely, just staring at you whilst you looked at him and gulped.

“ c’mere.”

Izuku motions for you to come closer with his finger. You do exactly as you are told once more which brings a small smile to his face. Once you get closer he grabs you by your hips and pulls you on top of him. The squeak you let out went straight to his lower tummy. There was a feeling erupting inside of him.

Izuku wasn't one to have a lack of self control but for some reason.......he just wanted to devour you.

You sat atop of him and he lifted up a little resting his back against his headboard which was quite wobbly. He held your waist tightly and bit his lip. Looking up at you and how you just barely towered over him.

Your breath was picking up just from the way he held and looked at you. His fingers started digging into your skin. The way he gently rubbed circles in the spot whilst hardly pressing down surprisingly felt....good.

He felt the way your cunt twitched on his thigh from the way he touched you.

He leaned In closer to your ear and whispered lightly,

“ d’ya want me, princess?”

All of a sudden the name made you feel some type of way. A sudden urge building inside of you. You wanted him and little did you know, he wanted you more.

You nodded your head before one of his hands moved to your ass giving it a quick harsh squeeze making you squeak.

“ use yer’ words baby.”

But you couldn't. You didn't trust yourself.

It had been a while since you've been intimate with anyone. You hadn't felt this way in quite some time. You didn't trust that your words would pull through. Maybe they'd get caught in your throat and make you choke on nothing, ruining the mood!

Or maybe worse.....you'd accidentally whine whilst you spoke letting him know you were desperate?!

You just looked at him in silence furrowing your brows at him in a pleading manner. But that wasn't enough for him.

A frown appeared on izukus face as he tsked. He was so disappointed. He expected you to abide by what he said like the good girl he knew you were. Maybe you just needed a little....coaxing.

He lifted your skirt and slapped your ass harshly making you yell out, he was quick to pull you into a hug and you buried your face in his neck sniffling lightly at the intense action. Your skin is still stinging and slightly turning red. In his opinion he hardly touched you but the way it felt....damn did it hurt.

He rubbed the skin where he hit you and cooed at you.

“ awwh... my pretty princess... that didn't feel good did it? so I'll tell ya’ again....use yer’ words.”

You sniff in his ear and muster up the best words you can think of.

“ yes.. I.. I want you ’zuku.”

Your voice was breathy and whiny, clearly desperate and needy for him. He seen that, he heard it. He could practically feel it with the way your cunt was twitching in his thigh. It really got him off, his hardening cock pressing against your ass.

And goodness, the way you said his name. It was so whiny and breathy, fuck.....

He sucked in through his teeth and held you close, gently using his hands to grind your body down on his. He groaned within an instant the second you started doing it on your own, rocking back and forth on his thigh, your ass rubbing his cock so deliciously.

The clothes at the top of hid cock giving him more friction, his eyes fluttered thank the kord you couldnt see it with how your face was still stuffed in his neck getting high off of his smell.

But fuck, he wanted to see your face. Many things started clouding his mind but they all vanished instantly once he heard the tint mewl that left your pretty lips. His eyes widenend and his grip on your body tightened.

A small growl left his throat as he rolled his eyes back and let you grind on top of him to your hearts content.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and began grinding harder and faster against his thigh, feeling the way your panties brushed roughly against your clit they were getting damp from how wet you were.

You couldn't help but to feed into the desperate urge to chase after your own orgasm. You groan lightly before moans started leaving your lips, your eyes rolling as you chased your high.

Izuku smirked at all the noises you let out for him. You were moaning because of him, you felt good because of him.

His cock was twitching and leaking so much precum through his pants. He groaned and tried his hardest to hold back and wait for you to cum first. Everything holy knew he wanted you to cum before him.

But with the way you were grinding on him he wasn't sure he would last.

“ f...fuck. c'mon baby, c'mon. ju...- just’ a lil’ more...”

his eyes squeezed shut as he held you as close as possible letting you grind as much as you want.

He expected you to keep going until he came but unfortunately for him, you'd already cum and were growing tired. You slowly ground down onto him trying to catch your breath.

His eyes shot open and he turned to you breathing heavily as his cock jerked and ached against the cheek of your ass.

“ ‘s that the best y’a can do?”

Before you could answer or even question him he pushed you black slightly to unbuckle his belt. The clacking of the metal part against the other coming undone. You could see just how needy he was for you. His cock was drenched in his own pre. It was the most adorable thing in the world to you, and fuck, there was just so much.....

He watched the way you eyed his every moved, watching as he slowly teased you stroking his thick and wet cock through his soiled boxers. You could see more pre bead at the top of his cock through the already soaked boxers. He quickly smeared it with his thumb and let out a shaky sigh. The sigh he let out caused you to whine lightly above him making him laugh at the desperation.

“ needy are we darlin’.”

He finally pulled his boxers down just enough for his fat sticky cock to spring free. The way it bounced up before falling against his tummy. He was well shaved down there, slightly trimmed green tufts of hair sticky with his pre.

The only thing you could think about was the fact his cock was so huge it couldn't even stand up on its own. It was just so fucking fat and heavy it needed help to stand up. You were sure it would plug you so good, and so was he. He could only imagine how wet and ready you were for him.

Before you could fulling soak in this thick and awaiting cock he picked you up and moved your panties to the side, sliding his fingers inside of your cunt quickly just to give you a quick stretch.

“ o..oh my...mmph..”

“ damn baby, so fuckin’ tight..”

“ won't be able t’ fit in here if ya’ aren't stretched...”

His fingers worked wonders, so thick and strong inside of you. He fingered you with ease, touching every spot inside of you that he could, he was quick to apply his thumb as well to help aid pressure to your clit.

A gutteral moan left you as you nearly fell over, getting light headed from the pleasure, your eyes fluttered and your mind was getting hazy.

He reckoned you were bout ready to take him.

He took his fingers out of you before slurping all of your essence off of them. Letting his tongue lick the pad of his own fingers to taste every last bit that he could. He groaned at the taste alone, his cock twitching against his tummy and a drip of precum sliding down the tip.

Izuku popped his fingers out of his mouth and lifted you once more, he sat in his hand and rubbed it all across his sticky cock. It wasn't that either of you weren't slickened enough, it's just that you were terribly tight which isn't a bad thing necessarily but he wanted this to be as pleasureful as possible.

He stroked his cock a couple of times with a shaky breath before putting his tip to your hole, he exhaled heavily at the warmth of your cunt around his tip. He could feel you twitching on it.

He gulped down before shoving it inside all in one go making you yelp.

“ oh! my.....god!- izuku— ”

“ ngh... damn.. I know darl, I know just.. fuck. take it f’me.”

The way he demanded you take it was hot nonetheless. But you couldn't exactly do that. He was so big and you were so tight neither of you could exactly move, just so stunned against each other from the sheer feeling of one another.

Izukus breath was shaky as tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. That didn't go unnoticed by him. He sighed before his kissed the tears away making you whine lightly at the softness of him.

“ sh sh sh, it's okay darlin’ I've got ya’...”

“ damnit...”

You whisper under your breath, the sniffle that left you made izukus heart break. He didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to make you feel good. And he only wanted you to cry if it was from feeling good.

It took you a while to be able to actually take him but once you did the pleasure truly began. Izuku let you go at your own pace, letting you ride him slowly to start to assure you were alright.

You held onto his shoulders for support, and just for extra he held your hips not applying any pressure or any weight, just letting you do you ,

You slight move back and forth on top of him, slowly to start. But then your clit brushed up against the base of his cock making you shutter. It's like it turned on a switch inside of you.

You started lightly hopping up and down on him your boobs bobbing as you did so. It was hard to keep a straight face when his cock was hitting so deep. And just as you thought, it plugged you so full the dirty sloshing noises that came from you both were just so filthy.

He watched very closely, a small smirk forming on his lips as he watched you slowly grow needier and needier.

“ oh god! Izuku..! Izuku.. fuck! I'm gonna..- shit!”

Uh oh...

That didn't sit right with him. He was quick to stop your hips from moving forcing you to sit fully on his cock. The moan that left you was so slutty. Izuku loved it he wouldn't lie, the way it got higher in pitch really did turn him on. But he wouldn't let what you did pass.

You tried to continue to move despite his harsh grip on your hips, he was quick to slap your ass with a painful hit. It made you jerk forward and lean against him for support, tears immediately spilled from your eyes. You sniffled and shook against him.

“ good girls don't use foul language.”

“ h.. huh--”

Smack! Another harsh hit landing on the same cheek.

“ did I ask you to speak? I didn't think so.”

You whimper against the skin of his neck, tears wetting his shirt as you sniffle.

“ yer’ gonna ride this cock n’ be greatful. g’na take this fuckin’ cock n’ say thank you. you fuckin’ hear me.”

“ y..yes.... Izuku..”

“ nuh uh... ts’ sir. say yes sir like the good little thing you are..”

“ yes..yes sir.”

“ atta girl..~”

He was quick to start you back up, letting you bounce on his cock as much as you wanted. You sniffled and threw your head back whilst you held on for dear life.

Your eyes were squeezed shut and your moans were coming out like a song, one that izuku swears he could never get tired of hearing from you.

As good as this felt and as much as izuku loved watching the way your body moved and jiggled against him. He wanted more. He wanted to feel more.

He was quick to flip the both of you over in one swift move without a word. Before anything could register in your mind he had began pounding you like there was no tomorrow. Stuffing you so full with his fat cock at such a fast pace. You felt so full and so fucking good. Your mind was turning to mush as he piston his hips into your ass.

His thrusts seemed as if they got faster and harder, the smacking noises seemed like they were louder as well. His his jerked into you at a god forsaken speed, making your head dizzy.

“ thank me- fuck.. fuckin’ slut. Thank me for givin’ it t’ya.”

“ thank you...~ than you s’much....!”

Your words were slurred and for the most part mushed together. But he wanted to hear them, hear them all.

“ yeah?, s’it feel fuckin’ good baby? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“ nngh... yes sir, feels s..s’good m’gonna cum... oh! p..please! please sir I wanna.. f... wanna cum..”

You tried your hardest to censor your speech so he wouldn't hit you again. You tried your hardest to be a good girl like he wanted but it was had. You felt too good you just needed to cum!

Izuku was surprised when you stared begging to cum however, that turned him on terribly so. A smirk appeared on his face as he dropped his movements, quickly pulling out and getting out of the bed.

The whine that left you was adorable to say the least. You hiccupped and sobbed at the sudden emptiness you felt. You wanted him to fill you up..

“ zuku please! pl..please!! js’ wanna cum!”

The sibs were getting to him. This is exactly what he wanted. But he wasn't done with you yet.

He left to grab a quick scarf. One that he used to tie your hands around your back. Once done he turned you around and shoved your face into his bed, he walked behind you quickly lifted his foot onto the bed and fucked his cock back inside of you.

“ fuuuck yeah baby.. take m’ fuckin’ cock, yeah?”

“ ohh-!.. yeah!, y-yes sir! yes sirr!~”

Once again you were fucked dumb in his cock, he thrusted into you while your bounced your ass back in his cock. He felt the way your cunt started spasming and tightening around his cock, he knew you were gonna cum.

Izuku was sure that's what you were trying to tell him though your words and cries were muffled by the pillows as he forced your face into them. He wasn't even sure if you could breathe but he didn't care. Not then.

He quickly grabbed you by your hair and yanked your face out of the pillows, tears streamed down your face and got his pillows wet, the small amount of makeup you had on like lip gloss and mascara was now smeared on his bed and tour face as you groaned and gasped for air.

He chuckled and he looked down and seen the makeup on his bed. He leaned in close to your ear to whisper dirty things.

“ fuckin’ slut loooves~ to be fucked like this, yeah? bein’ used like the whore she fuckin’ is hm?”

You nodded helplessly the best you could. Eyes rolling and tears still just falling down your slightly crusted cheeks. Drool was leaking last your lips as you groaned from the over stimulation, you'd had cum long ago, like 2 orgasms ago. You weren't even sure if he'd noticed but you didn't care.

You didn't care about anything while he was jackhammering into your puffy and over stimulated cunt. Izuku was really enjoying himself, he was also starting to feel himself teetering towards the edge.

He groaned deeply and let the pleasure take over him. He continued to hold you by your hair before stopping momentarily to change positions once more.

The whine you let out was whorish and as sexy as it sounded, it pissed him off.

“ shut the fuck up whore.”

A quick slap to your ass before he climbed on top of you and shoved your face back down onto the bed, this time your face was towards the side so you could breathe better, he still held your hair as he fucked into you roughly.

He huffed and groaned with each thrust, growls leaving him as he felt his orgasm approaching and fast.

“ god-.. fuckin’ whore, yer’ g’na take my cum in this tight little cunt hm? g’na take it all yeah?”

You sobbed and nodded your head the best you could before you felt his thrusts stutter. The groan that left him whilst he came inside of you was different.. it was slightly more whiney, breathy, whimpery. It's almost as if he was moaning.

His eyes rolled and his brows furrowed in a sad way, izuku literally started shaking from the sheer impact of his orgasm. It seemed as if it were never ending, his cum pumping you full literally overflowing at the sides where his cock filled you.

He sighed shakily and slowly pulled his cock out. You sigh and try to catch your breath before you feel a quick slap and squeeze to your ass making you jolt forward. Izuku used both hands as he held and squeezed you tightly, pulling your lips apart to watch all of his cum gush out of you like a thick waterfall of milk. The white color was so pigmenty.

It was pearly white to say the least, which was no surprise, he was a healthy person and maintained a good diet. He hummed in approval as he watched the way it all just kept spilling out all over his bed and down your thighs, you felt filthy. Utterly filthy.

“ hmm~ good girl. took it all inside m’ so proud of ya’.”

All you could do was whimper before you felt his hands rubbing your ass. Once the feeling left your eyes fluttered shut and you passed out.

Izuku however gave you a kiss on the forehead and ran a bath in his bathroom, he wasn't evil he'd clean you up n give you a fresh pair of clothes.

AN: this is SO fucking long. Even the smut is fucking long like damn. I was VERY descriptive with this shit LOLOLOLOL. Actually spent many hours writing this yawl. Love a little mean zuku hm!!!!

[starwovenkiss]

part two to this concept

“Ja-son, your little friend is back,” Dick sing-songs, voice coming in through his comms and Jason’s brow furrows. 

Roy is somewhere off in Star City, Kory in another galaxy, and Bizarro is off….. doing what Bizarro does. 

“And she’s refusing to leave until she sees you.” 

Well, that only sounds like one person he knows. His head thumps back against the wall before bringing out his grappling hook.  

What could it be now? 

He makes a bet with himself, no training tomorrow if you stole anything over $100K, just to keep himself amused as he swings from building to building. 

He wonders what Selina would think, if she knew about the stunts you pulled to get him to look his way. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, I was voted Bludhaven’s sexiest vigilante three years in a row. What do you even see in him, anyways?” is what Jason is greeted with. Dick’s smile is playful as you stare at him blankly, arms crossed while you watch him casually toss his escrima stick. 

“Not interested,” you reply, and Dick gasps, holding his heart like he’s gotten stabbed. “Where is Red Hood anyways?”

“Don’t worry. Your boyfriend said he was on the way,” Dick’s tone is mocking, dripping with teasing and sarcasm and Jason just knows this is going to somehow make its way back to Bruce. 

“Wing,”he interrupts and both your heads turn. Jason knows he’s intimidating, knows that most people shit themselves and run far in the opposite direction when they hear him coming. 

He never understood why you always looked so relaxed when he came. 

“Get him to leave. He hasn’t shut up since he’s gotten here,” you mutter, stalking over to him and Dick cackles. 

“God, you two are perfect for each other. It makes sense,” he says and Jason fights the urge to shove one of his escrima sticks down his throat. 

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, looking down at the feline figure in front of him. He’s punched with a memory of the day you two first met, barely teenagers facing off against each other in a similar fashion. 

You shrug, lips turning up into a dangerous smirk. “I thought we had an agreement. I steal something, you show up.”

“You’re not the only criminal who wants my attention.” It’s true. Black Mask has been popping up around Gotham more frequently, and even now, Jason is pulled to follow the leads he’s been given instead of standing in front of you. 

You hum, considering his statement. 

“What if I’m the only one who deserves it?” you ask. 

“I can’t keep chasing after you over petty crimes.”

“This is petty?” you smile and from where, he swears he doesn’t know, you pull out a diamond ring and toss it to him. 

Jason registers Dick’s wheezy laughter behind him, and he sighs as he takes a look at the very large engagement ring. 

“Where did you get this?” he asks. He knows this ring, had seen it hanging off the left hand of some Gotham socialite at the last gala Wayne foundations had hosted. And now it’s in his hand, glittering in the moonlight. 

You smile, getting ready to jump off the ledge into the night. “I thought you didn’t have time for petty crimes?”

Jason watches you disappear, there one moment and gone the next before turning to face Dick. 

“Fuck you,” he says, and Dick cackles again. 

“I didn’t do anything!” He holds one hand up while holding onto his ribs from laughing too hard. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Dick asks, and for a moment, he’s sincere. Older brother concern coming out of him in waves. 

“Always do,” Jason responds and he takes another look at the ring in his gloved hand. He pockets it, making a note to give it back to its rightful owner before looking at where Dick is gleaming. 

“One more word, and I’m shoving you off this roof.” 

Dick hums, giving a mock salute. 

“Black Cat and Red Hood sitting in a tree, K-I-S - Oomph.” 

Dick’s taunt is cut off by his own screams of delight as he falls 81 stories down, grappling hook in hand. 

once again i’m stuck writing a fic with no end in sight and these two are helping me not lose my mind. happy mother’s day to anyone who celebrates and happy sunday to those who don’t. 🤍

[haveihitanerve]

The batkids taking shit from each other- the intimacy of knowing where the other persons weapons/gadgets/things are

The most commonly “pickpocketed” person is bruce, and he gets so used to it/they get so good at it that sometimes he forgets to take it back or replace it. 

Batman and Red Hood are staking out a new villains headquarters and jason is bored so he reaches over to bruces side and pulls out three lollipops, working through them one at a time. Bruce doesn't even flinch, even as jason's hand digs deep into his side to reach the last one. Then later he has to calm down this little girl, reaches for the pocket, and finds he has no more lollipops to comfort this child with. So he reaches over to Nightwing, who is currently in deep discussion with a police officer, and tugs some sweets out from his shoulder pocket and hands it to the kid. Accidentally, he also takes a replacement grappling hook wire with it, since dick is a mess and has all sorts of shut crammed in every pocket thats not supposed to be there, but he just shrugs and tucks it into his own replacement wire pocket. Then dicks line breaks a few days later and he reaches for his pocket- and its empty. So he does a double backflip off the building, lands on top of a swinging red robin, snatches some replacement wire from his boot pocket, recharges his gun and is gone within a few seconds. Tim continues on like nothing has happened. When he lands on the next roof, Spoiler is waiting for him, and he gives her a quick kiss, reaching to the back of her waist band to grab a small knife and throw it at the goon coming up the stairs. A few days later steph is hanging upside down with cass and reaches for her knife, only to come up empty handed, so she just grabs the one cass has strapped to her thigh and peels her orange with that instead. Cass shrugs, drops from the ceiling on bruces shoulders, pecks his cheek and takes one of his daggers from his chest pocket. Three days later damian yeets his katana at Riddler(it misses but the villain is traumatized) but now the young robin is out of a weapon, so he ducks under cass’s legs and takes the dagger, sending it flying into a nearby goons gut. Bruce is both horrified and proud of his children and instates a weekly meeting to double check that every has all of their things. A very startling amount of gadgets and knicknacks are passed from hand to hand at these meetings, returned to their rightful owner. Bruce, naturally, has the largest pile that he has to put away. The kids all snicker into their hands as he glowers, shoving the weapons and pepper spray and gum pieces(“why did you take them if you weren't even going to chew them!!!”) back into his suit as they all finish up an hour before him and just watch. 

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS THE EPILOGUE

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @flipthepaige @wbbgetsmewetter @mariahthealchemist @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @kplum10 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch @ryywyd @lupinqs @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ohmybueckers @ykylalex @hcneymooners @cherryswisherz

warnings 17.8k words, sexual content, a whole lotta paraye content!

kalena speaks 🪽! i fear the time has come to wrap up paige and raye’s story… but maybe i’ll post something for them again! who knows? this is long… like the longest thing i’ve ever written bc y’all know i love some plot 😊 thank you so much for all the love and all the support throughout it all, i hope you enjoy the epilogue with my babies 🥹

December 2025 — Aspen, Colorado 

“Paige hurry up!”

“Ma, I’m trying!”

Weightless snowflakes fall from the sky and onto the wood just below my feet. I’m not used to the cold, living in Georgia followed by California to blame for that.

My knees knock together slightly when a rush of wind blows over, Uggs on my feet, white snow suit pulled on top of layers of sweats and leggings to keep warm— with my hands stuffed into my pockets.

The scenery was beautiful, hills and the large Rocky Mountains covered in a thick blanket of snow. We had just gone skiing down it hours ago, and Paige taught me how to snowboard yesterday. String lights in the town illuminate a nice yellow hue. It’s the first time I’ve gotten to experience a white Christmas, even if it wasn’t actually Christmas yet.

The add on of having a secluded cabin to ourselves was a plus too.

“Baby it’s fucking freezing, God.” I hiss, watching her gloved fingers fumble with the key to the front door of the cabin. She cradles ski equipment in her hands, a large Nike backpack slung over her shoulder. And then there’s me, hands in my pockets watching her struggle with just a bit of amusement.

Paige looks cute, though it really isn’t much of a surprise. A black beanie is fitted onto her head and a black hood on top of that. She’s all bundled up in her winter clothes, snowsuit, beanie, swaddled in all black with an occasional touch of purple like a little kid going to school. Her skin is paler than normal and her nose and cheeks are reddened. Lips, pink, and smothered in vaseline. Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her lips, and I can tell she’s just a bit frustrated.

“I know that, Raye.” She grumbles. “I know you see me with all this shit in my hands.” 

I smirk, seeing her struggle after offering to help just minutes before brings a sense of pride to my body. I was right, as I tend to be.

“I told you I’d help, you just wanna be big dog sooooo bad.” I tease, rocking back and forth on my heels. My body leans against the wall, the dark wood barely even felt thanks to all the layers I wear.

“Shut up.”

“Give me the key.”

Paige thinks it over. I can see the way her mouth opens slightly and her eyes flutter when she blinks. Her lashes are long, dark from mascara and slightly damp from one too many tumbles in the snow.

But she hands it over anyway. So I unlock the door, doing it with a kind of ease that makes her cheeks flush more than they already have. “Ladies first.” I smile, holding open the door for her.

Paige ducks her head under the frame, fitting all six feet and some inches of her through the door. “Whatever.” She huffs like a baby, making me giggle behind her.

She kicks her boots off by the door, I follow suit with my own, before walking all of our equipment to the nearby closet.

The cabin is spacious, definitely more than enough for just the two of us, but we use up all the space anyways. The living room has two large couches that face one another, chairs and wood furniture surrounding them both. The nearby fireplace illuminates the room and its high ceilings. A Christmas tree sat bare in the corner until I convinced her to decorate it with me. It looks messy, like we just threw something together last minute—which we did— but still. It’s us.

Everything is comfortable, warm and snug— perfect for our first vacation together. 

It doesn’t take long before she’s chasing me up the stairs, some joke that she did not find very funny to blame for. I push my way into our bedroom, navigating to the bathroom and ridding myself of my layers.

“No way you wore that many clothes.” Paige deadpanned. She watches me pull my beanie off my head, followed by my zip-up hoodie. “You didn’t sweat in that?”

“I told you it’s cold out!” I breathe, still catching my breath from dodging her in the living room. “I’m from the south, Ion know shit about snow, P.”

Paige’s clothes fall as well, starting with her black hoodie and long sleeve compression shirt underneath. It leaves her in front of me in a sports bra and sweats hanging fairly low on her hips. “It's almost 30 degrees outside.” 

“Which is cold! Don’t gaslight me into thinking it’s not cold.” I laugh, shedding the rest of my clothes and turning on the shower faucet. 

The sound of the shower running nearly drowns out the blonde’s voice. So much so that she pulls me to her by my waist just so I can hear her.

My back is pressed to her now bare chest, and surprisingly, she has this heat to her body that sends chills down my spine. A juxtaposition that makes my head spin.

“You’re really warm.” I sigh, tipping my head back onto her shoulder. Paige kisses my neck, slow, soft in a way that was intimate without being sexual. Which I find funny considering My panties are the only clothes I have on, her hands on my hips— about to get into the shower with her.

“Yeah? ‘Cause you’re freezing, mama.” She speaks into my hair, mussed by the beanie I wore nearly all day. “Let’s get you warmed up, how ‘bout that?” I turn to face her, wrapping my arms around her neck.

Her bun messily sits at the back of her head, strands tickling her soft skin. The rosiness of her cheeks stands out more than normal and I can’t stop thinking about how perfect she looks. The entire trip, her eyes are brighter than normal or her smile looks more carefree. She’s been gentler with me too. Overly domestic with how she insisted on making breakfast and led me down the slopes and even rubbing my feet that we sore from my boots. 

She made this memorable, and I can’t seem to think of how she’ll top the Christmases to come.

I run my thumb over her cheek, slightly dry from the cold but still just as soft as ever. Goosebumps arise on my skin from how her eyes stare into mine. 

“What?”

I shake my head, planting a kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “Nothing. You’re just pretty.”

Paige blushes some more, trailing her hand to my ass. She doesn’t even squeeze, just palming it in her slightly calloused hand. The other wrapped snug around my lower back.

“You’re pretty, Raye.” She hums. Her head turns and she meets my lips fully, sucking gently on my bottom lip like a piece of candy. “Been lookin’ perfect all week. Lookin’ like mine.” 

Mine. Still after five months, it makes my knees weaken whenever I hear it. Mine or my girl, the term girlfriend still nearly sends me into a school girl induced shock. 

“I am yours. You don’t even gotta worry about that.” I murmur against her mouth. 

Steam fills the bathroom. The stickiness of the humidity sticks to my skin, and I know I should be worried about my pressed hair sweating out, but I can’t bring myself to care when she’s languidly moving her lips with mine like she’d die if we stopped. 

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” She asks, pulling back with enough resolve to make me go dizzy. “Like foreal.”

“A few times.” I responded. “But, I’d love to hear it again.” I smirk, making the decision to reach for my scarf and wrap my hair. She watches the whole time attempting to keep her eyes on mine rather than my boobs which push towards her.

She laughs and it comes out throaty and deep, rumbling through her chest and through my body. “Get in this shower and I’ll show you.” She says teasingly.

I shake my head. “Nothing funny this time. My legs still hurt from last night.”

“We’ll see.”

—

Raye was setting her mug full of hot chocolate on the bedside table and sighing to herself when I walked into the room. Plaid boxers sit on my hips, an old UConn crewneck stretched over my top half.

She’s comfortable in the bedroom’s king sized bed, white comforter bunched up to warm her bare legs. Her navy blue bonnet sits on her head, skin glowing from the aftermath of her lengthy nightly routine. Lips plump and glossed from her lip mask, slightly pink. She wears one of my hoodies and the angel necklace I swear she hasn’t taken off since I gifted to her sits comfortably around her neck.

Raye’s back rests against some pillows on our headboard Her legs bent at the knee, acting almost as a table for her notebook. I exhale, leaning over to kiss her cheek as I join her.

“What’s this?” I ask, shamelessly leaning into her personal space to get a look at the notepad.

“New song.” She beams. Her eyes grow wide, twinkling in the soft lighting.

I find it adorable how she glows when she’s talking about her music, or when she knows that she’s in a groove. It’s the way you act when you truly love something, that’s how she feels about her music and watching it up close sends a warmth to my heart that I couldn’t even try to get rid of.

I fake a groan, nestling my head into her neck. She smells like coconut and fresh soap. The kind of smell that gets stamped in a file in my brain full of things I love about Maraye Carter. “Baby… we said no work while we’re here.”

She scoffs playfully. “You went to the gym before I woke up?”

“Okay, but I didn’t touch a basketball. We’re supposed to be finding a movie.” I complain, reaching to my left for the polaroids we took before leaving this morning. 

Suddenly the notebook is forgotten, tossed somewhere on the bed with a pen stuck in between the pages as a placeholder as she turns slightly to face me. “Wait, I wanna see ‘em!”

We’d taken nine out of the ten, all of which were scattered around the table. A few kissing ones, some silly faces that she insisted on, my arm slung around her shoulder with our ski goggles on— and the like.

“We’re cute, huh?” I tease, sending her a cheeky, tight lipped smile. Raye’s face mirrored my own eyes bright as she pushed my face to the side. “Look at your smile in this one, you love me so bad.” I jeer.

She doesn’t even try to hide it.

She reaches for the stack of photos, shuffling them like they’re a deck of cards. Her hands stop, eyes lingering a bit longer on one in particular. It’s from early in the morning, Raye sat on my lap in the old school kitchen just a minute or two after we ate breakfast. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her lips pressed to my cheek, just slightly kissing the corner of my lips. My eyes were closed just a bit, lip in that scrunch that she seems to be obsessed with.

“This one is mine.” I hear her decide. She sets it off to the side, going through the rest of them. “This we’re tossing. I look awful.” She laughs, hiding the photo from me before I can even reach for it and see for myself. 

Though I don’t think she could ever look awful to me. I’ve said that she could wear a trash bag and I’d still think that Raye was the most beautiful and perfect woman in the world.

“Let me see it!” I wrestle with her, giggles and soft breaths falling into my ears.

“No, Pa— move!” She laughs, pushing me back over to my side of the bed. “You play too much, Madison.” She groans, flicking my ear.

“Madison? Damn.” I choke out a laugh, taking the rest of the photos from her and setting them to the side. 

“That’s why I’m picking the movie. Move.” Maraye mumbles, reaching over the expanse of my body to grab the remote. I kiss my teeth in distaste, but still, I don’t even try to fight back.

Once my laughing dies down, I snuggle my face against her cheek, the warmth of her body shooting up through me. “I’m sorry, baby. We can jus’ keep that one to ourselves. I promise you look beautiful regardless.”

She ignores me, mushing my face away from her own and clicking on Home Alone 2.

I scoff and pull her into my lap. “Don’t try to act mad, you ain’t fooling nobody.” I speak into her neck, the feeling of my breath on her skin making her smile.

“I was writing a song about you and here you go annoying me.” Her pout is the cutest thing in the world to me, it makes her nose scrunch and her eyelashes tickle the apples of her cheeks.

“About me?” I question, a grin across my face. “Sing it, I wanna hear it, angel.”

“What happened to ‘no working on vacation?’”

My cheeks burn under her glare and I let out a sigh. “Fine. But I still wanna hear it.” I made my arms comfortable around her shoulders, the blanket we were wrapped in slowly slipping down Raye’s body. She backs away from me when I pucker my lips. “Are you crazy?”

“I wanna watch the movie.” She tuts, kissing my cheek before redirecting her gaze to the flatscreen. I don’t even waste a second of time trying and failing to pull her back. “Y’know I love this one.”

“That don’t explain why you’re avoiding my kiss.”

My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her back in to kiss me like I wanted. Raye’s lips glide against mine slowly. Even after all these months I can’t get enough of the feeling.

“Better?” She murmurs as she pulls away.

“Better, baby.” I nod. “C’mere.” We sink further into the bed, my arm around her shoulder, a designated spot for it at this point. She looks up at me briefly, the high points of her cheeks turning pink as she smiles. Her pretty hands grip the hem of the blanket, pulling it higher on my torso before nestling in my chest.

“Is it bad If I say I don’t wanna go home yet?” Maraye questions me. Her eyes don’t look up to mine, just locked on the opening scene of the movie.

“Gonna miss me too much?” I tease with a fake frown, but her lack of response lets me know she doesn’t find me funny. I divert my attention to her, getting a glance at her glassy eyes. “Why you all sad, angel? I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I brush her hair out of her face.

She shrugs, “can’t believe you did all this just so I can have a white Christmas.” Raye chuckles, wiping the tears from her eyes before they even get a chance to fall. “I just wanna stay with you and not worry about anything else.”

“Tour starts in two weeks, baby.” I remind her.

She sighs loudly, looking back at the screen. “I know.” She replies. “I don’t like being away from you.”

It warms my heart, which is beating so loudly in my chest I don’t even hear what’s being said in the movie. I hate it too, weeks at a time where I’m on the road, followed by her long trips as soon as I get home. 

“Me neither.” I comment honestly. My lips find the top of her head, Raye’s recently straightened hair feels cold against them. I don’t let her go, keeping her tucked in that spot of my arms and chest throughout the whole night.

—

January 2026 — New York City, New York.

“You look pretty.” I hear Brittney compliment Maraye who sits a few feet away from me. Her hand is smoothing over her hair, it’s dark red this time around, layered and in curls that make her look even more goddess-like than she already is, something new she’s trying out for her tour and I’m completely enthralled by it.

“Thank you, B.” She cheeses.

“Showin’ her all 32 is crazy.” I mumble, shuffling the cards in my hand and adjusting the collar of my polo.

“Can you just sit there and be quiet?” She snaps back, kicking my shin with her heeled foot.

The studio lights brighten and the producers on the other side of the threshold lets us know we’re shooting the first take. Brittney scatters off and looks over at my girlfriend with wide eyes.

She looks stunning, as per usual, but her dress that sits nicely on her body is what has my attention. It’s black, long enough to cover her up, but short enough to give me a great view of her moisturized legs. Not much, but enough to keep me mildly distracted.

“You ready?” Raye asks me, playing with the corner of the large index card.

“Always.”

We hear the famous click of the board and the yell of take one before Maraye sits up straight. She’s perfect for the camera, gorgeous smile and big beautiful brown eyes that would make anyone melt. I’m damn near drooling over her where I sit.

“Wassup y’all, I go by Maraye and I’m here with…” She trails her hand out to me, but my eyes are stuck on her and I freeze. “Paige!” She laughs at me, and I blink.

“My fault, my fault. Do it again.” I shake my head.

The producers do it all over again, the lights, the board, the directions.

“Wassup everybody. I’m Maraye, here with…”

“… Paige Bueckers.” I finished.

“And this is the GQ Couples Quiz.”

I never once imagined being on this show, for a multitude of reasons, but to do it with Raye was going to be so entertaining. Our relationship was pretty private, the closest thing to a confirmation being fans catching me in a suite at one of her shows or lingering too close to each other at public events.

And that time last week when the paps caught us making out in her car. It sent WNBA twitter into a frenzy, and her fans nearly threw a party.

Regardless, I was jumping at the opportunity to show off my knowledge of my girl to the world. 

“Easy dub, don’t y’think?” She asks, clearing her throat and crossing one of those beautiful brown legs over the other.

I laugh, “yeah, easy for me. Better watch out.” I tease.

“Wanna bet on it?” Raye turns and looks at me intently, a smirk on her face and a slight tilt of her head that leaves too much for my imagination.

“I do, actually.” I nod, adjusting the collar of my shirt. Today was one of the days that I let Brittney style me in whatever she pleased. Making my reaction to the high neckline a little more intense than she probably expected.

Raye grins, tapping her chin with a finger as she pretends to think. “Okay so when I win.” I roll my eyes at her choice of the word when. “I dunno if I can say this on camera.” She says, looking off to the crew behind the cameras that start laughing. 

“You need help, dude.” I shake my head, amused at her very obvious suggestion. I lean my head closer to her, turning slightly so she can speak in my ear.

My eyes grow wide as she speaks. Raye surprises me more and more as our relationship progresses. She pulls back from me with a smirk, and I’m positive that my entire face is flushed by just how horny she is.

“Okay. And if I win, you come out to Miami for Unrivaled.” I offer and Raye nods with a smile.

“I was gonna do that anyway.” She rolls her eyes that are nicely lined with black. “Deal.” She says, sticking her hand out for me and I shake it firmly.

I’ve agreed to let Maraye go first to get a feel for the competition. If she were to know that, she’d probably tell me I’m too competitive; taking it to heart. And I am. Because losing on the internet would simply be too embarrassing.

She gets comfortable in her chair, swiveling her hips in a way that makes me forget we aren’t the only people in the room.

“What is my favorite movie of all time?” She asks, holding those sleek white cards close to her chest. Raye has like 30 favorite movies, all of which depend on her mood. “The one that I always make you watch, like you literally have no choice.”

“Oh, Just Wright?”

She smiles with a nod, tucking the notecard at the back of the pile. “10 outta 10 movie. If you’ve never watched it, do so quickly!” Raye says to the camera.

“Let’s not drag it. 10 outta 10 is crazy.”

She shoots me a look, eyebrows raised and head turned. A look she gives me when she’s asking me to keep testing her.

“Don’t even. You think Die Hard is good.”

“It is!”

“Not. Anyways, what’s my favorite nickname for you?”

I dart my tongue out over my lower lip. “Dad— I’m just playin’.” Maraye’s hand reaches over the space almost instantly, slapping my thigh with her french tipped fingers. “Blondie? Or Madison, you been callin’ me that a lot lately.”

“You get the point for ‘Madison.’ I think your middle name is cute, babe.” She cheeses, blowing me a kiss.

“I’m too good at this.” I shrug, feeling myself a little too much.

“Chill. I guarantee y’ont know this one.” Raye rolls her eyes as she switches cards. “Where did we first meet, and what did I think of you. See that’s a good one, y’all ate a lil bit.” She looks over to the producers and gives them a thumbs up.

That’s my girlfriend, everyone.

“We first met on opening night, and I literally fell on you and you thought I was the sexiest woman to ever walk the planet.” I answer with a shrug.

Maraye shoots the camera a side eye before looking back at me with a fake grin. “You can get half a point?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

“Yes!”

“Wow, so I’m not the sexiest woman alive?” I feign hurt, my hand pressed against my chest, right over my heart.

She scoffs. “You definitely are. But that wasn’t what I thought at first.”

“Then what did you think?” I lean in.

“You’re gonna get mad If I say it.”

“Say it.”

“I thought you were sweaty and I was worried about my outfit” Raye muses, a smirk playing on her lips. I scoff, because while I should be embarrassed, the admission is so distinctly Maraye that all I can do is laugh. 

“Aight bro.”

“But I swear immediately after I thought that you were stunning!” She laughs in an attempt to neutralize. “Seriously! Got a li’l star struck right after, baby.”

I brush her off. “You’re ass kissing, whatever!”

Maraye lets out a gasp, a large dramatic, genuinely terrible, gasp that makes me think she should pick up a career in acting. “Watch your language, you can’t say that here!”

“Who said?” I fire back. The producers behind the camera wave me off, silently telling me that it’s fine. “See.” I push, sticking my tongue out playfully.

“Annoying.”

It goes like that for a while, Raye asking me questions— her favorite food (crab legs), biggest turn offs (snoring, a subtle dig at myself), facts about her that only I could know (what that tattoo on her ribcage says)— followed by me answering them and getting all of them right. 

She’s trying really hard to throw me off track, that look in her eye that always makes me think she’s lying when really she’s just good at faking it. But it’s my turn now, the cards both literally and figuratively in my hands now.

“You got one wrong.” Raye informs me, giving me golf claps with a slight grin that makes me feel like the only person in the room in a building full of people and lights and cameras. “I think I can beat that.”

I nod, finding her confidence amusing. Whenever it came to competition between us, I believed that Raye would always get either the 'easy' questions or she'd cheat, which she swore was never the case and that I was just a sore loser. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. What’s my guilty pleasure?” I read the card.

She sends me a smirk, silently asking if she should take it there or not. She doesn’t; she knows better. “Um, you like those wheel throwing videos, like the pottery ones.” Maraye answers and I nod.

“I wanna try it sometime, but she refuses.” I tell the camera.

Raye scoffs. “You’re messy! You’d get clay all over my clothes.” She’s right, the intimacy that would come from sitting in a quiet studio, dim lights, soft jazz or R&B echoing; would distract me to the point where I’d send a lump of wet clay flying across the room.

“What’s my go-to pregame meal?”

Raye clears her throat, answering without hesitation. “Pasta. Any kind. As long as there’s garlic. And some kinda protein.” She answers. “Grilled chicken is the current protein obsession, by the way.” She sends a wink to the camera, as if to say ‘yep I know my girl’ which she does.

I blink lazily, thinking about how her hair drapes over her shoulder. “Solid start, ma, but these are all easy questions.”

“You got my easiest question wrong.”

“Did not.”

“You absolutely did—”

We’re cut off by a producer clearing his throat, telling us to wrap up the bickering. I switch cards, getting back to the subject at hand. 

We kept going—my favorite hobby, lego building was her answer though it was really golfing. Maraye nearly tore the set apart swearing up and down I just lied on the internet at her expense. I asked her about our first date. She got the restaurant wrong but remembered how I wore that black Kith jacket she secretly loved, so I gave her a point. My least favorite thing about her (when she wakes up in the middle of the night to write before “an idea leaves her and blesses someone else.”) and dream vacations.

I sit there shocked, because not only does she remember these things, she remembers the little details. Restaurant excluded, she remembered everything. Topics that we had touched on maybe once or twice that she took and practically tattooed into her brain. 

I nearly stopped worrying about losing because watching her talk about me and us like it was a topic she studied for hours made up for it.

By the time I reached the final question—How did I tell you I loved you?—Maraye’s teasing, celebratory grin softened. “Okay,” I said, a little quieter. “This one’s serious. You get it wrong and we’re breaking up.” I joke.

Her eyes darken, not with doubt but with memory. Like it happened yesterday.

“I was headlining for ACL in Austin, and Cam called me saying you won rookie of the year and they were giving you your trophy that night and that I needed to get home.” She starts speaking. I could listen to her tell the story for hours. “So as soon as I got off stage, I got on a jet and rushed back. I made dinner, and you came in with your trophy all shocked that I was there.”

I hum at the memory. “I wasn’t expecting you back for another day or sum.” I justified, feeling my cheeks blush and neck tingle under the camera glare.

“We were eating and you said something— you’re usually not that funny but this time it made me, like, burst into laughter— I spilled red wine all over me and down my shirt.” 

“‘Usually not that funny” is crazy! Now If I take a point away—” I laugh, pointing a ringed finger in her direction. 

“Let me finish!” Raye slaps my hand away. “I was embarrassed as hell trying to dab my already ruined shirt, but when I looked at you, you just had this stupid doe eyed look on your face. You got up, kissed me, and said you loved me.”

I kissed her harder than I think I ever did that night. Tasting the wine off her lips and the little bit of garlic from our mashed potatoes. It happened exactly like that. I’d looked at her and just knew I was completely screwed, so in deep that nothing could possibly pull me away from her. 

“I’d like to point out that she stuttered for like five minutes before saying it back.” I let out a slow breath, looking at this woman like she hung the moon and the stars, which she probably did. “But yeah, you’re right, so another point for Ms. Carter.”

“I win?”

“You win, angel. We can do your thing once we get up outta here.” I nod, reaching for her hand as she stands up to climb into my lap. It’s natural, honestly I think not having her on it is more odd than when she does take a seat on me. “Well GQ, thank you for having us, but me and my lady got some things to tend to. Right, baby?”

“Yes we do.” She smirks, waving at the camera until the red recording light shuts off.

—

February 2027 — Miami, Florida

I don’t know why I ever assumed that Paige and I could be cordial in the same house for a few days.

We can’t.

Or, more like she can’t.

I say that because at whatever hour of the night it is, she lays here, spooning me lovingly— the warmth of her body completely engulfing my own— clearly doing everything in her power to wake me up.

It started with the groaning, which honestly she does all the time. I didn’t think much of it.

But then she’s breathing all raspy and shit in my ear, mumbling my name into my ear. Her hand traveled under my shirt, first only feeling on my abdomen but now it rests soundly under my tit, just cupping it like that’s how she normally sleeps.

I’d like to think I’ve been doing a good job ignoring her.

“Hey,” Paige whispers against my skin, voice husky with sleep and something heavier. “Ma.”

“Mmm.” I groan, digging my head further into my pillow before even getting the chance to open my eyes and look at her.

“Damnit, woman, wake up.” Paige groans, dragging out her plea in my ear. She’s grinding against me, quite literally humping against my backside in a way that makes me wonder who she is and what she’s done with my girlfriend.

I let out a quiet sound, somewhere between a sigh and a hum. My eyes flutter open, catching the soft blue cast of moonlight spilling in through the window. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Paige murmured. “Or early. I dunno, didn’t mean to wake you.” She lies, making me scoff in the midst of my sleep induced haze.

But her mouth was still on my shoulder, trailing up toward the curve of my neck. The kisses were light, almost lazy—if lazy felt like fire slowly licking through my nerves. I blink, finally catching a glimpse of the clock on my nightstand.

I turn my head just enough to look at her. Paige’s hair was tousled, her eyes heavy-lidded, lips already parted. That look she got when she couldn’t help herself. And it was absolutely, utterly irresistible.

“You didn’t mean to,” I echo, voice dry. “Sure.”

Paige smiled, guilty but unrepentant, and slid a thigh between my own from behind. Her hands draw patterns on my stomach, slow but all the more unrelenting. “You were breathing like you were dreaming about me, so I figured I’d check.” she whispered, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. She knows what she’s doing, my body instantly shivers on contact. “C’mon, ma. I only got you for two days.”

I sigh, turning over on my back languidly with sleep still clouding my vision. I can just barely make out her figure through the Miami city lights that peak through the window. Her boxer band peaking out from her basketball shorts and a thin tank top riding up her abdomen. In all honesty I think if I wasn’t so outrageously tired from my flight delay I would be letting her turn me out right now.

“Paige, I got rehearsal in the morning.” I whine, trying to stand my ground but goddamn does she make it hard. “You could’ve waited until morning,” I whisper, but my fingers were already curling around the back of her neck, guiding her mouth back down to my sweet spot.

“I didn’t want to,” she breathes against my collarbone.

She hovers over me, her hand cupping my chin with one hand, angling it to the side. She leaned into my neck and the kiss that followed wasn’t soft this time—it was full of quiet hunger, lips parting;sucking, hands starting to roam with familiar purpose. 

Paige’s palm found my hip and slid upward, dragging the hem of my pajamas—aka her Sparks t-shirt—with it. My vision finally starts to adjust, and my hand covers my face in an attempt to keep sleep from leaving me.

“I can’t sleep like this.”

“You have a hand. There’s a vibe in the—oh.” Paige cuts me off with a grip of my own hand, sliding it right between her legs where she clearly needs me the most.

She’s practically, no, literally soaked through her shorts. The material is damp against my hand, I can only wonder how much of a mess she made on the back of my shorts from her grinding.

“Ion want none of that. I need you. Fuckin’ soaked for you, Raye.”

My fingers press further against her core and she lets out a strangled groan into the air, arching into me. The slow grind of her body on my fingers igniting something low and pulsing in my abdomen.

“I was sleeping,” I say under my breath, but there was no protest in it, just the tremble of want behind my voice. Even as I try to hide it, the way she makes my cunt throb right now— with her pleading and grinding and purely submissive behavior— isn’t something I could even try to hide.

“It don’t look like it now.”

And it doesn’t. I was very, very awake.

“Lay back.” I give in, pulling my fingers away from her.

Paige doesn’t wait another second. She’s following my direction, rolling off me and lying on her back with her head nestled on a stack of pillows. I can’t help but giggle through my faux anger at her eagerness.

I find my way between her legs, nose nudging her own before our mouths meet again—open, slow, almost aching in the way we moved against each other, like we had all the time in the world but still needed more. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as I pressed my body against hers in the dark.

“You’re a brat.” I groan against Paige’s lips. Her hand pulls me in deeper, so much further that I think she might swallow me whole. Her tongue navigates my mouth like it hasn’t been there in years, licking whatever mouthwash I used hours ago out of my mouth and into her own. “Waking me up like that, so needy, hm?”

She doesn’t answer, obviously too touch deprived to process the nature of my words. I trail my hands to the hem of her tank, tugging it over her head with ease.

My hand moved with unhurried certainty, gliding up Paige’s chest—fingertips grazing over ribs, pausing at the underside of her breast. I don’t push or rush, just touching like she’s some artifact that could break if I do too much.

Her hand digs deeper into my hair, tugging stubbornly at my scalp. I moan at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut before moving down her chest. I lick lightly at her nipple, pink and standing up for attention, before sucking on it. 

Paige’s lips parted around a soft gasp, one arm falling to her side, the other threading through my hair, urging me closer.

“More, ma. Fuck— just, anything.” She whines, which sends a blush to my cheeks that is noticeable even in the dark. 

Paige doesn’t do this much, she doesn’t give in completely or fall back and let me do as I please. There’s always a bit of dominance underneath all her sexual wants and needs. But now? Anything I do to her is better than me doing nothing at all, and that sets my soul on fire.

“Shut up, Paige.” I mumble, a free hand moves down to her shorts, the other groping and feeling at her chest in a manner that makes her whine. Breathy with a bit of an edge. “You woke me up, you’re gonna take what I feel like giving you.”

Lucky for her, what I feel like is getting my mouth on her. Since the moments we got together, Paige has made it known that she’s as much of a munch as could be, and while I might not be at her level yet, the pleasure that comes with watching her fall undone on my tongue is other worldly.

So I yanked myself back from her nipple, slightly missing the feeling of having it in my mouth. Her shorts come off first, down her tanned and muscular legs and onto the floor behind me.

My fingers press to her core through her boxers, and she’s soaked. So much so that I’m not even sure I can feel a bit of dry fabric. “I think you were the one dreamin’ about me, P.”

“Mmm, I was.” She confirms, pushing the hair in my eyes out of my face. Even in the dark, I can see how her blues lock on my browns, pupils dilated but eyes falling low. “Dreamin’ of you eatin’ my pussy, baby.”

I nearly moan at her voice, taking in her scent and her panty-dropping, Minnesota accent. My fingers break into her boxers, tugging the waistband down her crotch, her thighs, her calves— before also throwing them off the bed. 

“Is that right?”

“Makin’ me cum. You’d look so sexy with my cum on your face.” Paige whimpered, shifting beneath me, already trembling under the weight of my voice. “My shit’s so wet for you, baby. Need you to taste me— fuckkkk, Raye.” She groans, head falling back when My tongue finally meets her cunt.

The walls of her Miami apartment are thin, I know that and so does Paige but it seems like she doesn’t care. Her normally breathy and soft moans grow loud with just a few licks. Her hand deep in my hair, scratching my scalp like it’s her lifeline. 

Paige’s breath came in shallow little pulls, her chest rising and falling as if she were still catching up to what was happening—what I was doing to her. She lay there, pliant beneath me, the sheets gripped loosely in one hand, eyes half-lidded and shining.

“Just—God, just like that, ma. Y’do it so good.” I listen, eating her out just like that, tongue circling her clit before dipping inside for a taste. And Goddamn does she taste perfect. Like if an angel themselves made a potion and decided that that’s how Paige fucking Bueckers should taste.

I drink it all, lips wrapping around her swollen and throbbing clit. “Tastes so mmmm, baby. Soooo good.” I breathe into her, keeping my eyes glued to the figure above me. It’s as if I’m searching for something along the lines of approval and want. 

“Oh my fuckkk, gonna make me…” Her moan trails off, eyes rolling back before briefly snapping up to look at me. Her mouth forms a perfect circle tongue occasionally darting to the corner of her lips as she pants. “Raye, baby, I can’t.” She hiccups.

I look at her with faux pity, pulling back just enough to get a glimpse of all the sweat dripping down her skin. Paige was losing it, legs trembling around my head. “I don’t care. Woke me up for this, take it.” I grumble, but my feelings towards the matter left ages ago. I can’t bring myself to care about how tired I’ll be, when Paige’s slick is dripping from my mouth, lingering on my tongue.

My tongue dips back inside her, tasting her deeply. Paige's body convulses, her breath hitching as my mouth and occasionally the brush of my nose on her clit worked in tandem, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Her cries filled the room, her body trembling with the intensity of her release.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I-I wanna cum, angel.” Paige babbles in that way that tells me she’s closer than she lets on, her hips lifting, pressing her against my mouth. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

“You wanna cum?”

“Raye.”

“In my mouth?” I tease, following it up with a long and hard suck on her clit. 

“Goddamn, ma. So perfect,” the praise sends a moan through me, and the vibrations push her over that edge. Paige’s voice and moans and cries echo loudly in my ears. “Yes, Raye.” Her chest heaves up and down as I work her through it, planting light kisses on her throbbing cunt. 

I lick my lips in an attempt to savor every last drop before wiping my chin with the back of my hand. “Good enough?” I joke, but there’s an underlying feeling of wanting to be praised by her behind it. Knowing that I really did make her feel that good. 

Paige’s hand leaves my hair, letting me crawl up the bed until we’re face to face. There, she cups my face, holding me delicately as she searches my eyes through her post orgasmic haze. 

“You get better at that every fuckin’ time.” She sighs, running a thumb over my cheek.

I smile, her taste still leaving its mark in my mouth. “You’re touching me like I’ll break.” My lips connect with hers, fast and insistent, allowing her to taste herself. Paige sucks on my tongue, groaning something about my explicit nastiness somewhere between hurried kisses and slow grinds of my hips against her thigh. 

“I just can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” She sighs into my mouth. I turn my head, deciding then and there that I want more.

I slow down the kiss, letting her deepen it. She pulls me close, snaking an arm around my waist and holding my face with the other. She kissed me like I really was fragile. The kiss built gradually, mouths sliding, breath mingling, a burn between my legs transforming into a drip of my slick.

Paige shifts up just barely, enough for my weight to fully press onto her thigh to make me feel owned. Grounded. “Do something, please.” I whine, grinding down harder, letting the drag of the seam of my shorts stimulate my cunt. “Baby, I—”

“I think you got it.” She says, an edge to her voice that turns me into nothing. “You need that, baby? Needa fuck yourself in me like this?” Paige kisses down my neck, licking her tongue up and down my neck before sinking her teeth into the skin.

“Ah, fuck!” 

Paige lifts my shirt, and I fight to get it off my arms, about to throw it over my head when she flexes her thigh and I instead throw myself onto her shoulders. My head in her neck, her hands on my tits, kneading and kneading; and sucking and fucking sucking on my neck.

“Y’know how much of a slut you are for getting off on my thigh, right now?” She hums, rocking me back and forth at a pace much different from the one I set for myself. It’s faster and my clit snags again and again on her leg. “Can feel that pussy just throbbing for me, angel.” Paige’s voice caught, and she kissed my jaw again, a quiet sound breaking in her throat.

I roll my hips in response, feeling my incoming release shoot from the nerves on my clit to my stomach. My legs tingle, chest and neck heating up. My fingers tremble, nails digging into Paige’s muscular back. 

“Paige.” I groan into her skin. Drool spills from my lips and down her neck, trailing her spine. “Close. Fuck, ‘m so, so fuckin’ close. Gonna cum for you.”

“Yeah, just for me. Gonna cum in your pants like a good girl for me.” She eggs me on, moving her lips to a different spot near my shoulder and I just know she’s decorating me in hickeys that’ll last long after I’m on a plane out of Miami. “C’mon, ma. Feels so good, don’t it?” 

“I’m cumming— fuckkkk!” I moan. High and uncontrolled and so messy I can feel my release seeping through and onto her skin.

Paige talks me through it all, as she’s so great at doing. Calling me pretty, and rubbing my back. Stripping me of my shirt and the soiled shorts and satin panties that literally stick to my skin. I fall into bed next to her, naked and warm and still both jaded from the orgasms. 

The room goes still again, save for the low hum of the fan and the soft rustling of sheets as we shifted, tangled around each other. Paige lay on her back, one arm behind her head, the other resting across my bare spine. I was sprawled half on top of her, chin on her chest, staring up at how pleased with herself she looks.

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” I said, voice still scratchy from sleep—and other things.

She shakes her head, planting a soft kiss to the top of my sweaty head. “Can’t help it, shit finally went my way.” Paige laughs, her fingers trailing absent-minded circles along my back, the quiet night wrapped around us again—warm, safe, and full of everything we didn’t have to say out loud.

—

November 2027 — Casco Viejo, Panama City, Panama

The heat was the first thing that hit me—thick, fragrant, alive. Something way different than California. There it was dry, but here it’s almost suffocating. Humid air that seemed to wrap around me like an embrace.

I can pick up on the smell of ripe fruit, blooming flowers, and ocean wind carried from miles away. 

Raye stands in front of me, phone pressed snug to her ear, as her conversation goes back and forth between English and Spanish. She wears a long multicolored skirt—one that I had a lot of feeling under on the plane— and a white tube top.

I drag our bags behind us, as we exit the airport, feeling sweat accumulating on my forehead. But it wasn’t just the weather that made me sweat—it was the crowd of people waiting just outside the airport doors, holding handmade signs and waving excitedly the second they spotted Maraye.

And it was very clear who they were here for.

She slips her phone in her tote bag the second her family comes to view. “¡Ay, por fin!” someone shouted, a man— tall with grays that decorated his thick curls and beard— and then Maraye was gone from my side, swallowed into a wave of arms and kisses and rapid-fire Spanish. 

I watched her cousins pull her into one chaotic hug, and her aunt wept dramatically into her shoulder, all while her grandmother stood behind them all, smiling so wide her eyes disappeared behind her glasses.

From what I’ve pieced together, Raye hasn’t seen this side of her family since she graduated high school years ago. The emotions are warranted. Even for her, she’s been talking my ear off about this trip for the last couple months, and now that we’re here it brings a grin to my face that I couldn’t wipe away.

I hung back, suitcases in hand, trying not to look awkward, but before I could retreat any further, a small boy—maybe six—looked up at me with wide eyes. 

“¿Tú eres la novia?” He asked shyly, squinting at me through the sun and craning his head up to me. I bend my knees, sinking to his height before sticking out a hand. 

“That’s me, yeah.” I smile.

I can feel eyes on me in an instant, the much needed conversation coming to a close as I talk to the young boy, Donovan is his name.

“Everyone, this is Paige.” Maraye said firmly, breaking away from the crush of family and walking back to sink her hand behind my head, ruffling my hair. “Todos sean amables con ella, she’s a bit nervous.” She whispers the last bit, making my cheeks redden more than they already are. 

There was a beat of silence—and then, as if a switch had been flipped, the group erupted again. Aunts and cousins came forward one by one, greeting me with kisses on both cheeks, calling me different variations of mija and bella and young boys already guaranteeing that they could beat me in one on one.

Tía Lydia, a woman I’ve known to be Maraye’s favorite aunt, even if she didn’t say it aloud, approaches me with a smile. I remember late nights when they gossip together for hours, or occasional FaceTimes where she’d pan the phone to me and suddenly I’m up to date with years old family lore that I’ll unpack for the rest of the night.

She hugs me tight, on her toes even in the heels she wears. “Thank you for bringing her here, we’ve missed her.”

“She’s missed you. Seriously, hasn’t stopped talking about it.” I hum, picking up on the scent of strong perfume and something sweeter— coconut? “Gracias por la invitación.”

Rate stands somewhere near, laughing her sweet laugh and letting her hair fly free in the wind. It’s grown longer in the last two years, once thick, shoulder length curls now cascading down her back. My eyes can’t stop looking at her amidst conversation, the glow of her brown skin, earrings down the cuff of her ear. 

That’s my girl. And she brought me here, to her family. 

Tia Lydia wraps her arm around my waist, holding Maraye’s suitcase against my protests. “Come, come.” She hums, shoes clicking against the dark concrete towards the car. “¿Te gusta el ceviche?”

I curse in my head, mentally unprepared to navigate through the language I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to learn for this specific moment. “Uh…yes. I’ve had it before.” I stutter, and I know if Raye is listening, she’s laughing at my english responses. “Yours is probably better, tho’.”

She laughs, the kind that reminds you of your favorite dish as a kid and just makes you smile. It’s all too similar to Raye’s, and the connection makes it all the more enjoyable.

By the time we reached the family home—nestled in a lush, flower-lined neighborhood that I think I instantly fell in love with—it felt like I’d already been adopted. 

My Spanish, if it could even be called that, was shaky; but it didn’t seem to matter. When we got into the home, sandals clacking against the hardwood and the stone, Raye’s family was already enveloping us into everything. Any possible jet lag was thrown out the window and replaced by a buzz that lingered through my blood and in the air. 

I played dominoes with her uncles, my natural competitive nature seeming to keep me in with their approval but still a bit out of the game. 

She had stopped by, handing out cold Coronas with lime like it was second nature, and it very well could’ve been. Raye took a seat in my lap, that was natural too. She pointed out what she thought I should put down here and there, and when win number one was finally under my belt, her uncle looked at me with a drunk smile, saying, “la mujer sabe mejor.” Which brought laughter over the table and a slap to his shoulder from my girlfriend.

The young boys were already insisting on playing me tournament style, even neighborhood kids joining in.

The wins came easy, so did the trash talk. “Don’t choke like game 6!” Ricky, an older cousin from Raye’s dad’s side murmured to me when I checked the ball.

The burn lingered a little, because I did indeed choke in my first finals appearance. Losing a rough game to the Lynx in Minnesota. I have to quit playing like shit whenever I’m there, really. 

But that dig turned me up, I beat him 11-0 and after that, they all quit.

I’m inside now, sweat sticking to my neck and the back of my buttoned shirt, It loosened some after between the legs dribbles and spin moves. Family members sit on the steps outside, others in the living room watching some soccer match. 

But I can’t seem to move from the kitchen entrance.

The kitchen was warm and alive, windows open to the breeze, light pouring in across the tile. Maraye stood at the counter beside her grandmother, their heads bent together over a pot of arroz con coco. She was laughing—freely, hands moving as she spoke, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek.

And it felt like I’d just seen her for the first time again.

It reminds me of that dinner party all those years ago, nestled in the warmth of Cam’s kitchen. I’ll always remember that dress she wore—red, strapless, and tip-toeing the line between casual and scandalous— how her smile radiated so bright that it visited me multiple times in my dreams.

Her grandmother was teasing her gently in Spanish, and Raye rolled her eyes in mock exasperation but kept stirring the pot exactly how she was told. 

She moved so naturally here—like she belonged to the walls, the rhythm, the history in the room. She was free, the weight of being away from family for so long finally melting away. 

She wasn’t different from the woman I knew in our shared apartment back home, but here… she seemed brighter. Rooted. Full.

My heart swells as I watch her. How she sways along gently to the music that plays, hearing her speak more Spanish than I’ve heard from her in a minute.

I didn’t even notice that Maraye had caught me looking until she turned, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Paige.” She hums, “ven aquí.” She calls me over with a tilt of her head, flour and coconut milk staining her fingers. 

I walk over, trying to hide the sweat and nerves that stick to my body. Her grandmother gives me a look and a kiss on my cheek before fleeting the kitchen.

“What?” Raye asks, hands on her hips.

I shake my head, slow and full of awe. “You’re just…” my voice trails off, feeling slightly clouded from beer and the drug that is my girlfriend.

She bumps her hip with my own, sliding the wood spoon into my slightly trembling hand. I don’t know why my body betrays me like this, but there’s something about my girl being so domestic? Cooking in the moonlight and looking so ethereal.

“You okay, baby?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you all over again, mami.”

—

“¡No asunto divertido!” I hear my tia yell out after Paige, very clearly expressing her concern for what we both would be doing on the balcony alone. The blonde brushes her off with some Spanish slang that makes me muffle a giggle. It was getting better, and sitting next to my abuela at dinner fixed her accent too.

Music still drifted up faintly from the street below the balcony—lively cumbia rhythms rising and falling like the city had its own heartbeat. Bursts of laughter from my youngest cousins fill the air, alongside the clatter of plates being cleared and the sound of bare feet and sandals against the stone ground below. 

Warm light spilled from the windows of the family home, bathing the worn terracotta balcony tiles in a soft amber glow. 

Panama’s night air wrapped around me—humid, thick with the scent of bougainvillea, grilled street food, and the salty trace of the ocean somewhere nearby. Stars hung lazily above the old colonial rooftops, flickering through the haze.

I stand at the railing barefoot, wine glass in hand. I focus on breathing in the moment, taking in the fact that the last time I was here, I probably didn’t realize the impact this place would have on my life. My cheeks were flushed from dancing, the humid air clung to my skin in a way that made me feel undone in the best way. 

To my right sits Paige on a straw woven two-seater. She had shed her button up, sitting soundly in a white shirt and baggy jean shorts. Her hair is damp, either sweat or the aftermath of her water balloon fight with the neighborhood kids. Her sandals were kicked off ages ago, pulling her knees to her chest as she does the same thing as me. Watching. 

She was good, unbelievably good with everything. Conversing with the adults, entertaining the kids, driving me crazy. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so sure of anything the way I am about Paige. She looks buzzed, eyes bouncing between wide and low from multiple Coronas and a shoddy seven hour flight. 

“Too much?” I ask, a lazy grin tugging at my mouth. “My family’s a lot.”

“They’re perfect,” Paige says softly, her eyes still wide from the whirlwind of hugs, dancing, food, and Spanish spoken too fast for her to keep up with. “I’m prolly the one who’s too much. I nearly cried when your tía brought me another plate of food.”

I let out a breathy laugh, dragging my feet closer to where she sits. When I sit, my eyes fall back over the view. The slight breeze and rumble of rain in the sky, sun setting beyond the horizon.

“You didn’t cry. I saw how you devoured that second pla—”

“Ight that’s enough outta you.” Her hand meets my shoulder, shoving me playfully. “I’m deadass. She been calling me ‘mija’ all night. It was over after that.”

And it’s something about the way ‘mija’ falls from her tongue that makes my legs cross and my heart simultaneously swell at the same time. My hand traces the patterns over my skirt, thinking to myself.

“She loves you. Everyone does.” I sigh, looking over my shoulder to her. “You’re part of this now, P.”

The blonde brood her legs off the edge of the seat, scooting closer until she sits right behind me, my body between her legs. Paige takes my hair in her hands, pushing it over my slightly tanned shoulder. A breath falls from her lips as she sets her chin on my shoulder, the smile on her face fading into something softer, more fragile. “You mean that?”

It’s simple, but the three words weigh so much heavier. 

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t.” I look at her, like I really looked. The clearness of her bright almost glass-like skin, freckles that came in a light brown with age, pink lips and the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking into. My eyes are steady, full of a quiet kind of certainty. “This place… this family? It’s my heart. And I wanted you here because you are, too.”

My words settle in the air, traveling through the wind. 

Paige’s eyes flutter closed as she leans into my exposed upper back. She places a kiss, small and lingering, on the tattoo there. A dainty libra constellation that Paige watched me get the entire time. Her lips are warm on my skin, like a kiss of life. 

She tips my head towards her, closer, so close I smell the papaya off her breath. Paige leans in and kisses me, slow and grateful, lingering as the breeze stirred the night around us and sent goosebumps to my skin. “Truth time?” Paige questions against my mouth.

It’s become our thing. After a bit of overthinking while on the road or those nights where we just needed to vent. Truth time insured a moment of no judgement, just the truth.

So I nod, letting her say whatever she wants.

When she pulled back, her voice was barely above a whisper, gravelly from cheers and competitive yells. “I want this with you. Not just the trips or the dancing or the family dinners. I want it all, angel. The quiet mornings, the hard stuff, the little things. I wanna know your people. I wanna be your people.”

I can feel my throat tighten in a mix of emotion and thoughts of the future. The apartment we share transforms into a home, our home. 

I set my wine glass down and cup Paige’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones like I was grounding myself in something real.

“You’ve always been my people, baby. My person since forever.” I murmur, voice thick.

We sat in the silence that followed, surrounded by the laughter from inside that we stepped away from. 

The world moved on around us, but here—on this quiet balcony tucked in above the chaos—it felt like we carved out a space where only love existed.

Where only I existed with her.

I turn back around after a beat. Back pressed to Paige’s chest. And after a long stretch of quiet, I could feel her laugh softly, the breath of it brushing against my ear. “I think we should have a balcony like this at our first home. Could picture you rocking our baby out here.”

My voice gets caught in my throat.

“All pregnant and shit, glowing. Our kid in your arms. I’ll even learn how to cook foreal, I’d do that for you.” She decides, voice as certain as ever in my ears.

I grin. “That a proposal?”

“Maybe.” Paige nudged me. 

“I’m just saying. I’d say yes.”

Paige pulls me in again, holding me tight against her. “Good. Because I plan to ask.”

—

July 2028 — Crypto.com arena, Los Angeles, California 

“You need to breathe.”

“I’m trying!”

“She’s in love with you, stop freaking out.”

“This is so cliche, Cameron.” I breathe, running my fingers through my hair, attempting to keep it as straight and uniform as possible.

Cam sighs through the phone. “You’re telling the one who got proposed to at the Eiffel tower about cliches?” And when she puts it like that, my breathing just barely starts to regulate itself. “She has no idea. I got her all dressed up, she went with Cassie to get her nails done, just please pull yourself together.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” I speak, mostly to myself, and Cameron hangs up.

It has been planned like this for a week, an impulsive decision that kept me scrolling through google when she slept on my chest and pulling whatever strings I could while at the practice facility. I even spent the last hours of All-Star weekend searching for and buying the perfect ring: a delicate gold band with an oval cut diamond tucked into the center.

I was going to do it there. Similarly to how I asked her to be my girlfriend in the comfort of our hotel room.

But then I decided she needed something more. Something big but still private, still just us.

My phone buzzes in my pocket again, and I dig it out of my cream colored dress pants. A black polo is fitted on my body, diamond jewelry around my neck and a bezeled watch around my wrist— courtesy of Raye’s anniversary gift a few nights earlier.

maraye: you ready? i’m coming in now  7:38pm

paige: Yeah, the locker room is unlocked!  7:38pm

I hadn’t told anyone, choosing to just tell Raye we were having a post-anniversary dinner. Which isn’t a total lie, since the festivities of my fourth All-Star appearance caused our celebration to include crashing in bed with makeup still on our faces.

I hadn’t told Azzi, nor my mother, and definitely not Nika or Kaylee. So besides Cam and Cassie making sure she went where she was supposed to and when, it was all me. 

And I’d been waiting.

I hear the voice of a man outside of the door, voice greeting my girlfriend, and only a few seconds later she’s walking into the room. Slightly worried about what could be waiting for her, but I keep calm; normal. 

Raye wears all black, but not in a way that dulled her. It clung to her in all the right places, silky and smooth, with a deep V-neckline that shimmered just slightly under the locker room haze. Her collarbones were kissed with gold, delicate hoops in her ears, and her hair—a cascade of defined curls—was pulled into a loose, romantic updo that looked effortless but elegant. 

Timeless. 

Like she had just stepped out of a dream I once had but could never name.

Like she stepped out of her own song.

Like she was the angelic sound of music I heard for the first time from the couch.

I stand up from my locker, dragging my feet over to where she stands, the ring box feels heavy in my pocket as I meet her halfway.

She wraps her arms around my neck, mine settles around her lower back. She smells like she always does, sweet with just enough undertones of grown and sexy. I lift her off the ground just barely, listening to how she groans into my ear.

“You look good, papi.” Raye nearly growls in my ear, causing me to stifle a groan by biting my lip.

I set her back on the ground with a squeeze, pulling back to look her over once more. “Aye chill out with that, I wanna get through our plans before you start acting up.” I laugh, pressing my lips to hers. It’s short, but full of all the emotion I’ve been holding out on by not seeing her all day.

“You’re right, my fault.” She smiles.

“Mmm but you still look fine tho’, fine as hell.” I hum, dropping my arms and sticking a hand out for her. “Come this way.”

Raye takes my hand with not a beat of hesitation. “We’re going through the court?” She asks, suddenly confused as to why I’d choose this way and not the entryway she came in with.

I brush her off, lying and telling her it’ll get us to my car faster. And then, it’s go time.

“Y’know, I was gonna ask you on a first date the night of Cam’s dinner party.” I confess. Raye nearly trips over her own feet, but I balance her before she gets the chance to fall. “You think we would’ve still been together?”

I walk her through the back door of the locker room, and she stops in her tracks. “Really?”

“Yeah. Kea told me you were seeing someone, but then you told me it wasn’t official yet. I was gonna ask you out when we were leaving.”

“I think we would’ve been.” She answers, finally picking up her feet and walking with me closer to the court. My hands sweat with anticipation and a part of me hopes she doesn’t notice. “I still would’ve found out just how much I like you.”

I nod. “Let’s say in this hypothetical scenario; I ask you out and you say yes, what would’ve happened if Julian still asked you to be his girl that night?” It’s all word salad, something to keep my mind occupied while I try to remember the monologue I’d created.

She stutters, pace just barely slowing down. “I dunno. I was still straight. Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Raye shrugged. “Why are you asking about a hypothetical?”

We stand in front of the tunnel entrance and I don’t answer, instead, I pull back the thick black curtain and gesture my head towards the court. “C’mon.”

“Why are we—”

“Mami I love you, but please stop asking me so many questions. Go.” I laugh. My girlfriend rolls her eyes, giving me one more look before dipping behind the curtain. Her pace is slow, but she walks in and I follow behind and I nearly have to hold my hand down in order to not cop a feel of her ass.

The court lights are low, just enough to set a yellow hue over the classic purple and gold hardwood. Candles decorated the baseline, creating a walkway for her to follow until she got to her seat. The seat was illuminated by a single spotlight.

The seat where I saw her for the first time.

There, lays a bouquet full of pink and white roses and lilies scattered in between. 

Raye takes one look at it all, before freezing. Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Paige…” She whispered, voice full of shock and confusion.

“I know.” I say, my voice barely even there. “I want you to walk down there and take a seat for me, can you do that?” I ask softly, suddenly realizing that all my nerves were for nothing. Because in the three years I’ve been blessed to call her mine, she’s always let me know that it’s been me. Now all I have to do is ask to make it official.

The sound of her While We’re Young plays softly overhead. It’s the first song she ever wrote about me.

“I’m askin’ you about a hypothetical because this whole time, I’ve been wondering if we’d still get this far if things were different.” I start, feeling the pressure ease off my shoulders with every step. “Like what if Kea never introduced us that night?”

Raye thinks to herself for a moment. “I probably wouldn't have chosen to partner up with you at Cam’s.” She answers.

“And we wouldn’t have become close friends. You wouldn’t have caught feelings for me, and I wouldn’t get the opportunity to love you the way I do now.” I say.

Raye sits soundly in the court-side seat, clutching the bouquet in her lap and crossing one glowing leg over the other, and I swear I see her eyes glaze over. There’s something heavier there, a realization or maybe even a memory of that night in May.

“The other day, I was going through old practice videos, and I came across practice on opening day.” I step back from her, treading carefully towards the top of the arch. “And I started thinking about the play we ran.”

She lets out a laugh. “When did you have time to do all this thinking?” Raye jokes, and I laugh along with her.

“It’s easy when my girlfriend sleeps like a hibernating bear.” I responded. 

Raye gestures her hand for me to continue, looking at me with wide brown eyes that I’m still obsessed with all these years later.

“The original play was for D to set a screen here.” I point to my left side at the top of the wing.

“I was gonna come off of it, handoff to Kea and she gets right to her spot for a middy. If it didn’t work out, I was trailing behind for an open three and Cam would be available in the paint.” 

She listens intently, my demonstration of the play even without a ball in my hands helped too. Her basketball knowledge has drastically increased since we got together, particularly from watching film with her.

“It was gonna be the easiest way for us to break their zone. But instead they played man. So when I came off the screen, Siegrist called for a switch and McCowan was now guarding me.” I explain.

“You had a mismatch.” Raye hums.

“I had a mismatch.” I agree, continuing with my demonstration.“So instead I faked the handoff and just drove. I went for a lefty, she fouled the shit out of me, and I ended up here.” 

I stand right in front of her now, a grin on my face that mirrors the one she looks up at me with, tears just barely brimming her eyes.

The song tails off and I silently applaud myself for my perfect timing. 

“The very thing that led me to you was a last minute decision. God’s plan brought me to you, Raye.” My voice wavers ever so slightly, throat tightening as I realize the magnitude of the moment. “When I found out you were with Julian, I told myself—of course. Because you were smart, and breathtaking, and kind in that way that makes everyone lean in when you speak.”

Maraye laughed through her tears, squeezing the bouquet tighter in her hands.

“And I tried to be your friend,” I continued. “I was your friend. But somewhere between our third late-night phone call and the night at Waffle House when you told me about how you didn’t feel seen, something shifted. You started making room for me in your life. And I—I fell. Hard.”

My fingers tremble at the thought of reaching for the box in my pocket, but I press on. “I never thought I’d be the one. I had hoped, and prayed for it, but I didn’t think it would happen like this. But you… you surprised me. You let yourself love me. And in doing that, you changed everything.”

I pull the box out, cracking it open before sinking to my knee. And even through it all, Raye lets out a gasp. A little gasp full of everything she’s yet to say to me. 

“I used to think love was supposed to be overwhelming, and I was so scared. Scared of fucking it up for you, for us.” I whisper, holding the ring between us. “But with you, it’s peaceful. It’s steady. It’s choosing each other, again and again, even on the hard days.”

A beat of silence.

“And I want to keep choosing you, Maraye. Every day, every version of you, in every season of our lives. So…” My voice wavered, thick with love. “Will you marry me?”

Maraye didn’t answer right away—sending a quick bout of anxiety to my core. But then she’s sliding off the seat, cupping my face, and kissing me so deeply it said yes a hundred different ways before the words finally came.

“Yes,” she whispered against her lips. “You know that, baby. Of-fuckin-course I’ll marry you.”

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding, sliding the ring on her finger. We both laugh and cry through it, and then Raye’s kissing me again. Deeper, hand in my straightened hair as she tugged me close—candles flicker around us, and the weight of our story humming in every corner of the arena.

—

May 2029 — Los Angeles, California

The door slams harder than I intended.

No one tells you how hard planning a wedding is. They also don’t tell you how hard it is to plan a wedding while also working on finalizing an album.

I drop my bag on the floor, exhaustion running through me to the point where I can’t even bother to set it on the hook. I set my keys down, kicking off my tennis shoes and nearly falling flat on my face as I do so. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” I groan, stopping dead in my tracks and taking a deep breath and counting to five. Then ten.

It doesn’t help.

The silence in the apartment kills me. It leaves me alone with the thoughts of not doing well enough, not completing enough work. Not, doing anything worth remembering.

It all weighs on me. Wedding emails. Guest list edits. The label riding me every second of the day about finishing this album. Another vendor dropping out. A migraine blooming behind my eyes. And Paige is not even home yet, which—okay, unfair to be mad about because it’s not her fault that her first three games of the season are on the road. But I missed her. Needed her.

I trudge into the bedroom, shedding clothes as I walk. Leggings hitting the floor in the hallway, Sparks hoodie falling somewhere near my vanity, bra thrown on the edge of our bed. The forest green and navy slip dress I wore to bed last night hangs over the vanity chair, and I throw it on lazily.

“Just 15 minutes.” I say to myself, slinging the comforter over my body.

I was out cold in two.

When I woke up, the light outside had changed—dipped into that lavender-blue of mid evening. The headache that had been ruining my life for the last few days had dulled but not disappeared, and my mouth tasted like sleep. Even through the groggy and heavy haze, I sit up slowly.

That’s when I heard it. Water.

It lapped gently alongside the faint clink of glass, a low hum that might’ve been music or, well, humming.

My legs swing over the edge, painted toes padding against the rug in the floor before I sleepily entered the attached bathroom.

Paige was already in the tub, hair piled in the messiest possible way at the back of her head. The curve of her shoulder dips out under the suds and gleams in the candlelight. An empty glass rests on the ledge beside her. Lavender steam curled through the room, carrying the scent of bath oils and eucalyptus. The playlist— our playlist—was mellow, that’s usual R&B with a hint of jazz.

My body naturally leans against the door frame, languidly blinking sleep from my spirit.

“Hi.” I murmur.

Paige raises her head slowly, setting her phone delicately on the floor by the tub. “Hi, baby.”

“I didn’t know you were home.”

“We landed early.” Her chain glistens against her tanned skin, diamond studs in her ears that dance whenever the light shifts. Paige’s eyes rake over my body, and suddenly I’m hyper aware of the puffiness around my eyes and the slight slump of my shoulders. “It looked like you needed the sleep. Figured I’d soak off and then make us some dinner.” 

I walk over to the tub, sitting cautiously at the edge of the tub. “God, I’m so fuckin’ happy you’re here.” The sigh I let out, I didn’t even know I was holding in. Seeing her like this was like oxygen, I fucking needed it to survive.

Paige leans closer to me and I meet her halfway on instinct, holding her face with one hand. She tilts her head just right, brushing her nose with mine before locking our lips. I hum, allowing the blonde to part my lips with her tongue. She navigates my mouth like it’s her own, like she knows every nook and cranny; where to suck where to lick, and I let her. 

Her hands pull out from under the water, suds sticking to the back of her hands as she runs them over my thighs. Paige sighs, kissing me harder—faster. 

“Get in.” She mutters, dragging me against the ledge and closer to her. “C’mon, it’s still warm.”

I shake my head, something about being here with her and wanting to eat her alive feels more rewarding. So I angle her head in my hand, guiding her lips in the way I want them to go. It’s all teeth and tongue, with the occasional bout of spit against my chin. 

Paige is messy, pulling me into her like the last week and some change of her being on the road altered her brain chemistry. “Baby, get the fuck in.” She pants, pulling back enough that I can see her low eyes and swollen lips. “Needa take all this offa you.” 

I hesitate, but ultimately let her hands travel to the edge of my slip dress. She lifts the hem higher and higher until I break away to pull it off of myself. Paige doesn’t even give me a moment to shed my panties, she pulls me into the tub with her mouth pressing kisses to my cheek. 

“Talk to me.” She whispers against the skin, wrapping her arms around my waist. “What’s wrong, ma?”

I brace my arms around her neck, head comfortable against the side of her face. And it’s quiet for a moment, just breathing and the sound of water moving here and there. Skin to skin.

“Nothing.” I shrug, closing my eyes. But Paige knows me, the front I’m putting on just to keep her calm. To not stress her out.

She nods. Her chin resting in the crook of my neck. “How was dress shopping?” She decides to ask. An answer builds on my tongue, then stops when I feel her fingers against the back of my thigh. She draws slow circles, her nails just barely scratching the skin.

Then I let it out, my voice low and rough either from sleep or something heavier. “It’s… I dunno. Nothing special.” Paige kisses my shoulder slowly, like she’s still figuring out whether to press further or just let me enjoy the silence. “It’s just— I’m so tired, Paige. I’m trying to be everything. Good at work, good at planning, good for you— and I’m failing.“

Paige wrapped her arms around my waist and held on tighter, almost like a lifeline. “You’re not failing. You’re the toughest woman I know, trust, you’re not failing.”

“I cried today,” my voice trails off, “because someone ate my yogurt in the mini fridge; and none of these dresses look like me.”

Paige chuckled softly, pressing her lips to my jaw. “That’s valid.”

I take a deep breath, pulling back just enough to look at her face. How her hair is damp and sticks to her neck and shoulders. The slight flush from the heat in the bathroom. And it hits me then that I really do get to marry her, the ring on my finger is not a fragment of my imagination but it’s real. 

“I love you,” I whisper suddenly, voice thick. “But if one more person asks me if a damn napkin color really represents our ‘aesthetic,’ I’m eloping.” 

Paige simply smiles, something amused with a hit of understanding, before she kisses me softly. “You’re allowed to feel like that, ma. I know you’re goin’ through a lot to make this work.” 

“I just don’t wanna worry about a wedding and a fucking album for a few hours.”

Paige hums, trailing short kisses across my jaw and down my neck. Her hands move with precision, softly messaging my arms to my shoulders, feeling down my back and all we way down. Her hands settle on my thighs again, her fingertips toy with my panties— and suddenly I’m all hers.

“Lemme handle it.”

The water sloshes softly around us as Paige shifts in the tub, her knees brushing against mine beneath the surface. Steam curled between our mouths, and for a moment, we just looked at each other. 

Paige’s eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, searched mine, through the exhaustion and stress. My face was still drawn from the day, but my gaze softened just enough. There was something raw there now. A flicker of want. Of need. I needed her.

“I missed you.” Paige sighs.

“I’m right here.” I grumble. “And I’m needy. Horny, if you will.”

She grins, letting out a laugh before pulling me in. And that’s how it starts. A gentle kiss— brushing of our lips, a deep inhale of her scent.

My fingers find her face again, holding her jaw as I kiss her again, slower this time, but with more pressure. I poured every ounce of tension into it—every tight knot I’ve spent trying and failing to unwind, every unspoken frustration, every moment I’d smiled through exhaustion. Paige took it all, desperately. She kissed me back like she was drinking me in, trying to soothe all my edges and wrinkles from the inside out.

But then all the softness and slowed movements disappeared within the blink of an eye. She was rougher, more primal. Her hands kneaded at my ass, forcing a groan to spill from my lips. It gives Paige the perfect opportunity to make my mouth her own again. She slides her tongue against mine while my hands grip at her wet hair.

Paige whimpers softly against my mouth, tilting her head to deepen it, lips parting even more for the kiss to get messier. I groan, low and quiet, as Paige’s fingers dig into my waist beneath the surface, holding me there, pulling me in like she was afraid I could drift away if she let go.

I reach under the water, tugging my panties down my legs with a fight that nearly makes me curse her out for not letting me take them off before getting in the water. Soapsuds fly over the ledge, and when I finally get them off they’re tossed onto the floor. Landing with a loud, wet plap.

“Lemme get this stress offa you, yeah? Let's make you feel good," she whispers, her voice husky with desire.

“Please.” I beg, not even caring about how desperate I sound. 

I let her, leaning back, pressing my palms to the sore muscles of her legs. She trails her hands back under the water, her engagement ring cool against my skin.

Paige presses against my thighs, spreading my legs wider. Her fingertips trail up the skin and then carefully—and I really mean carefully—she brushes against my clit. I bite my lip.

She kisses her teeth, “you’re swollen, baby. It hurts huh?” Her voice is so sultry that I swear my own arousal leaks out of me like a faucet. “I gotta have you, Raye.” Paige glides her finger through my slick, muttering something about how wet I am and I make a joke about if that’s me or the water. To which she replies “nah it’s all you.”

Her finger dips inside, pushing in and out at a pace that is the perfect mix of rough and still so intimate. But I crave more. That toe curling, leg shaking stuff that she’s given me more times than not. 

“You get me so wet, P.” I confirm, letting the stimulation travel from my core up into my stomach. “I—I need more, please? It’s not enough.” I start, whining and growing frustrated. Paige can sense it, of course she can sense it. Because she leans in, pressing her lips to the valley of my breasts, kissing gently like they were artifacts she wanted to preserve. 

Her finger curls just slightly. “I know what you need. This pussy been mine for years, you think Ion know?” Almost as if my request pissed her off, she snatches her finger out of me. Paige looks up from my chest, licking her pink lips before grinning. “How you want it?”

I inhale slowly and ragged. “I want it hard, Paige. Just fuck me.” I cry. The soft sex is good—fuck, it’s so good—but when she gets in her zone, fucking me like she hates me, I just can’t get enough. 

My hand grips her wrist, tugging her long fingers closer to my cunt. 

And then she’s sliding in, two fingers this time.

I lost it.

They fit in with just enough stretch to remind me just how long it’s really been. But she’s a pro, in all meanings of the word, and gets to work right away. Paige pulls me closer again and meshes our lips. “Gotta stretch you out so my cock fits, baby. Nice and wide.” She grunts against my lips.

Paige begins to stroke her fingers faster and on instinct my hips meet her halfway. Water sloshes in the tub, falling in splashes on the floor. 

“P, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! It feels so good.” I moan. I lose control of everything, breaking the kiss as my head falls back and my nails dig into the depths of the back of her neck. “Love it when you fuck me like this.”

“Such a slut, Raye.” The blonde kisses her teeth, her free hand pushing hair out of my face. “Prettiest li’l slut f’me.”

She knows just what to say, just what to do— where to touch that makes me fall apart for her. And I think I’d rather die than to live a life where my body isn’t hers for the taking. So I spread my legs wider, enough to create room for the blonde in front of me. And she just takes it. 

Takes and takes and takes.

My eyes screw shut at Paige’s words, my entire body shivering as I work harder against her fingers. The slickness between my legs only intensified, climax growing and building inside me with every passing second. I could barely manage coherent thoughts, let alone words. But I do just enough to murmur, “needed you, baby. Such a sl—ut for you.”

Paige smiles at that, deciding to suck across my skin. She leaves marks behind, and normally I’d find something to say about it but right now I don’t care. I let her mark me up like I'm property. My hips roll simultaneously, taking what her fingers do to me.

“ ‘M gonna fuck you stupid after this. You want that?” She asks. Her mouth moves lower against my skin, over my breasts and to my nipple that peaks out over the surface. Her arm wraps around my hips as she pulls me closer.

Paige encloses my nipple with her mouth. Plump lips over the pebbled skin and tongue running over the bud. It’s as if it’s natural to her. Licking and sucking to the point I’m wishing it was my clit in her mouth. 

My eyes flutter closed, body melting into Paige's touch. I could feel the tension in my muscles beginning to ease; being replaced by a growing heat in the pit of my stomach. 

"Paige," I gasp, hips moving in time with Paige's strokes. "I’m close."

"I know, love," she murmured against my tit. "Just needed a good fuck? I know you missed me, ain’t you?"

I nod, helpless as my release comes in like a wave. My legs tremble and her name falls from my lips like a sin. “So bad, Paige! Shit!”

Paige held me tight, her fingers continuing to stroke inside me gently as I rode out the pleasure. "That's it, baby," she murmured. "Just feel it. Gimme that shit, ma. You're so fucking beautiful when you cum."

My body relaxes. Breaths fall from my lips and Paige presses kisses to my chest. My cunt throbs almost uncontrollably; sore but still so fucking needy. And she feels it.

“C’mon. I think you got a few more in you.”

—

“Daddy…” I hiccup, chest heaving from the aftermaths of three orgasms. Maybe four, but between this one and the one before that, I think I could’ve passed out. Paige buried her tongue inside me just after I regained consciousness from her fingers. Then the strap came out and somewhere along the way everything became a blur.

Sweat sticks to the hollow between her collarbones, and a drip trails down the valley of her breasts. It’s cinematic, really. Her chain hangs around her neck, engagement ring gleaming on her finger when she uses that hand to rub her chin.

She looks at me in disbelief, as if I’m not from this Earth. It sets my soul on fire. 

The strap hangs deliciously from her hips, harness snug and a dildo her skin tone just resting between us. My slick covers it, and now that I’m seeing it in the light of our bedroom, a blush finds its way to every surface of skin. 

The sheets are wet, and I can’t tell if it’s from me or the water that literally clung to us in the sex-drunk endeavor to get to the bed. 

“Shhh shhh. Just gimme one more. I know you got one more.” She coos. She holds the sticky base in her hands, tapping the tip of the strap against my swollen and overstimulated cunt. 

A rush of pleasure runs through my body, and she doesn’t stop. Tapping my clit, running it over my folds, slipping inside just an inch and then pulling out. Over and over again like the reaction she gets from me is better than anything else she’s ever experienced in her life.

“Tell me you can take it.”

I gasp. “I can take it, fuck, I can take it. Just— please, daddy.” I beg. My hand snakes behind her head, tugging her down to my level. Our foreheads touch, as if she’s talking to me telepathically. “Inside, baby.”

Paige captures my lips in a deep kiss as she slowly pushes into me. I can’t even gasp, I just groan. Heavy and thick with the pleasure she’s engraved into my brain for the last some hours. Even then, my cunt stretches again to accommodate Paige's cock. 

The blonde doesn’t wait. Doesn’t falter or waver. She works fast, snapping her hips into mine while I suck sloppily on her tongue. Paige breaks the kiss, her eyes locked onto mine as my body moves under her. My tits bounce in her face, hands attempting to figure out where to grip and scratch.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Paige groans, her voice filled with pleasure. "So fuckin’ tight and wet. Yo’ shit just creaming for me, Raye. Damn." She says it like it’s unbelievable, and honestly, it is. It’s unbelievable how almost four years in she still can fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. How after spreading me open and licking me clean, she’s still drawing come out of my cunt. 

My back arches into her, eyes rolling into the depths of my head. “You—mmph—‘re deep as fuck, oh my God, Paige.” It comes as a near squeak. Paige keeps going.

“Mhmm. Deep in that shit. Deep in my pussy.” She fucks me like I’m a toy. Rutting her hips inside and out like she’d die if she stopped. 

My hand grips the sheets, the other scratching down her arm. Paige’s thrusts become even deeper and more forceful. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, a primal symphony of love and fucking desire. 

Her hands grip my hips, her fingers digging into my flesh as she slammed into me.

My body was on fire, heavily over stimulated from however many times she’s made me come and the pleasure only building with each thrust. I could feel the orgasm coiling in my stomach, ready to explode. "Daddy," I gasp, voice filled with desperation. My hand trails low, pressing against her abdomen. I don’t know if I’m pushing her away or trying to draw her closer. But I do know I don’t want her to stop. "Don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuck!”

“Baby move your hand.” Paige orders. I barely watch her bite her lip, something about the way my eyes roll stop me from seeing it all. My jaw falls slack, back arching even further.

“Gonna—”

“Raye, I’m not playin’. Move.” She says again, pushing my hand off to the side and getting back to her pace. Thrusting hard, so hard that the headboard bangs deliciously against the wall. “Gonna cum all on my shit, y’hear me? Cum with me, same time.”

I nod.

“Say it.”

“Yes! Yes, daddy I’ll cum on—awwww fuck!” I moan, legs trembling around her hips.

Paige leans down, her forehead pressing against mine again. "Cum for me, baby," she commanded, her voice harsh with desire. "Cum all over my cock."

With a cry, my body convulsed, my orgasm completely consuming me. Paige held on tightly, her thrusts becoming erratic herself as she chased her own release. With a final, deep thrust, Paige groaned, her body shuddering over mine as she came. 

We lay there for a moment, our bodies slick with sweat, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Paige slowly pulled out, a satisfied smile on her face as she looked at the mess between my thighs. The come dripping from my folds and coating the strap. She unstrapped the harness and tossed it aside, then almost animated, she collapsed soundly against my chest.

We fit perfectly, like a puzzle.

I run my fingers through her wet hair, scratching delicately at her scalp and Paige groans.

“Baby?”

“Yes, love?” I responded.

Paige sits up, resting her chin on my chest. I look into her blue eyes, watching them go from dark to light all over again. She looks at me with a kind of softness that makes my heart swell.

“We’ll get your dress designed.” She starts. “I want this wedding to be perfect, and it’s perfect as long as you’re happy.” She breathes, pressing a kiss to my sternum.

“But, Paige—”

“We’ll wait. However long it takes for me to give 110% to helping you out. You’ll have the dress of your dreams, the wedding of your dreams; big or small, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever. I—I just can’t watch you stress yourself like this. Okay?”

Her words settle in the air. And when she puts it like that, it’s impossible for me to say anything other than okay.

— 

April 2030 — La Jolla Cove, California

The taste of champagne and a bit of Don Julio still lingered in my mouth. Alongside the taste of cake, and of course, the strawberry flavored lip gloss of my wife.

I still haven’t wrapped my head around that title.

The wedding was perfect. The location felt like a dream, and I truly couldn’t have picked a better woman to marry, than Maraye. 

She wore this gown that clung to her like it had been stitched with by hand just for her body: the corseted bodice sculpted to her curves, every bead and crystal catching the light like tiny stars. The intricate pattern radiated from her waist like a burst of light, tapering down into that full, ethereal skirt. It shimmered—better yet, it glowed—with every step she took, moving like water and starlight all at once. 

Her hair had been straightened and pulled into an updo that still managed to perfectly frame her face. Her skin glistened against the pure white silk. 

I was left at a loss for words.

We took photos. The white of her dress sat beautifully against the pure black of my suit and the forest green of our wedding party. 

She read vows that made me boohoo cry at the altar and I slid a wedding ring on her finger then audibly made her gasp in front of all our guests.

But I loved it because it was her.

When we got to the reception though, all decorum was off the table. We’d changed into something more freeing— comfortable— and drank and danced and kissed like nobody was around but us. Kaylee gave a speech, so did my dad, and Cassie took the cake when she started an emotional spiel about how lucky she felt to have watched our journey from the beginning.

KK controlled the dance floor, Cameron and Sydel drank until their livers almost gave out, Destin sang, and the list really just went on. 

Now, the reception hall was nearly empty.

Our wedding planner, hired after I realized Raye was never going to stop stressing herself out, talks to the manager of the event center. Some conversation I can’t really care too much about when my wife is standing ten feet away in the most casual silk dress. 

The warm hum of the string lights still glowed above the dance floor, flickering like stars over a room filled with the sweet aftermath of celebration. Half-empty glasses lounge on tables, rose petals strewn here and there, and the lingering scent of jasmine, sweat, and laughter.

I leaned against one of the support beams, barefoot and flushed, my shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar now, bouquet ribbon tied loosely around her wrist. My wedding band rests on my finger.

It was perfect for me, not too much but still not too little. Raye would rather die than give me a mediocre gift. It’s a thin band, diamonds sitting soundly against the metal— and the night we met, etched somewhere on the inside. 

I watched as Maraye stepped back onto the dance floor, her reception dress gathered slightly in her hands to keep from dragging. Her curls were wild, makeup smudged from hours of joy, but my eyes burned her into memory—steady, sultry.

I look back at our planner, noticing that we have at least five minutes to ourselves before needing to get going. 

I approach her slowly, feet padding softly until I reach her with an open palm. She looked up at me with wide eyes, like I was a myth, or something of the sort. “I wanna show you something.” I murmur.

She doesn’t say anything. She just slips her hand in mine, soft almond shaped nails just barely gazing at my palm. 

We walked hand in hand, and I let my mind travel to the first time she held mine. On the way to our first date, I remember how sweaty my hand had gotten, the nerves that had accumulated. And still, to this day, my hand gets just as sweaty and I get just as nervous.

We walk into a secluded room. Pictures of us with family and friends flashing by on tall screens. It’s dark except for the light that the pictures let off.

Maraye called this place “memory lane.” A place for everyone to stop and look at how far we’ve come. From fleeting glances and a scandalous relationship to a written-in-stone marriage.

A song plays softly, our song.

The soft strum of bass fills the room and Raye, the music connoisseur that she is, picks up on it immediately. 1+1. Beyoncé.

She turns to me slowly with a grin. “I was wondering why they didn’t play our song tonight.”

“It’s my little surprise.” I explain. I pull her in, settling her arms on my shoulders as I hold her hips. Not rough, just soft enough to keep her grounded with me. 

Our bodies pressed together, warm and close, and we began to sway—slow, intimate. The kind of dance that wasn’t about the steps or knowing what the hell we were doing, only the pull between us.

“I’ve been waiting all night for this part,” Maraye murmured against my ear. “No more eyes. No more interruptions.”

“No tías asking us to leave room for Jesus.” I add on and she laughs. Full and wholehearted. My eyes flutter shut as her hands slid over the expanse of my upper back—then back up, until they were toying with the flyaways at the back of my neck.

Raye sang softly with the lyrics, her mouth brushing my temple, her breath hot and close.

“I don’t know much about guns, but I… I’ve been shot by you.”

I trembled, just a little. Then, my face turned and met her lips in a slow, indulgent kiss—one that didn’t ask permission, one that said we made it. That said take me home and never let me go. It deepened, just enough, perfect for dancing in a reception hall with my wife.

“Looks like the whole world belongs to you with that kiss,” she teased.

I let my fingers trail over her jaw, whispering softly, “pretty sure it does.”

There was no rush. Just my fingertips tracing her collarbones, the weight of wedding rings brushing against bare skin, and the burn of want simmering under the sweetness of love.

“You’re driving me crazy singing in my ear like that.” I admit, voice dipping a little lower now, fingers slipping under the loose strap of Maraye’s dress. “Gotta give me a private concert when we get to Bali.”

She smirked, a full face smirk that looked too close to my one. But I guess that’s what happens when you spend all this time with someone. “I dunno if there’ll be enough time for that between…you know.”

Then she shifted closer, pressing our bodies tight, and began to sing again—“Make love to me… when the world’s at war… pull me in close…”—just for me. Her lips gaze my skin, each note sinking deeper than the last.

“I love you so much.” I say, words trailing off with the music.

“I love you too, Paige.” And I don’t let myself believe otherwise for a single second.

[quarterlifekitty]

Okay well now you need to write the secret baby trope for Soap and Gaz. It’s only fair man (I’m such a sucker for this trope I will never get sick of it)

I did a secret baby post with gaz somewhat recently, so I’ll give soap a go lol

Soap knows that if, by some miracle there is still space for him in your life, that he’d better do more than just get on his knees and beg. He needs to put his head to the ground and pray at your feet.

It had been a fledgling relationship at best. You’d said you loved each other, but he was the one who pushed things to go further when you were inclined to take it slower. He wore you down until you finally let him move in with you (your place was a lot homier than the flat he hardly touched). It was said implicitly: don’t make me regret this.

And he was sure he wouldn’t. Because he was that much in love.

So it should come as no surprise that fate, or rather, Price, should come along and need him for an extended stretch on an emergency, covert basis. No time or clearance for you to be told. At best, he was in for a tongue lashing. At worst, you’d burned all his shit and prayed to god for his swift demise while he was gone.

What he does not expect is to hear splashing and singing when he comes through the front door. His stuff is still around, what little of it he had. His mum’s knit blanket still over the couch, his novelty mug shaped like a boob is over on the counter. He’s able to pull himself out of the reverie when he hears you call at the sound of the front door.

“Mom? Is that you?” What’re you expecting your mom for? It’s the middle of the week, not a holiday, and your mom doesn’t live particularly close. He realizes he has to say something, or you’ll get scared.

“Nah, hen. S’me. Johnny.” Fucking lame, but he was barely able to force it out.

“Oh.” You don’t sound angry, at least. So there’s hope. “You should probably come here, then.”

He kicks off his shoes, since it looks like he’ll be staying. Sets his duffel down.

“Rubber ducky, you’re the one.” You’re a shower person, really. He doesn’t know why you’re in the bath. Damn, are you naked? God, he has to get to the bathroom before your good mood ends. “You make bath time so much fun!”

He opens the bathroom door just in time to hear a giggle and some more splashing. From chubby little arms. There’s a familiar vacant blue staring up at him from the water and copious bubbles. You are, unfortunately, clothed, sitting on a stool by the tub.

“John, this is Soirse.” John. So he’s not out of the woods yet. “Make yourself useful and hand me that towel.” You point to the fluffy thing with bunny ears that’s on the counter. Speechlessly, he hands it over and watches you lift the baby— his baby— out of the tub. At least, he’s really fucking hoping she’s his. How else could he already love her so much?

The little towel has a hood. So she’s wearing the bunny ears once you wrap her up. How fucking adorable is that? Then you hold her out— to him.

“Help me take her to bed. Then we can talk.”

He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

[jaitunapie]

One more chance.

//kim minji x reader//Street racing AU// Oneshot //

— Tied her down to my Queen bed. Tease her just enough to hate me.

SYPNOSIS ❯❯❯❯ Rivals, exes, idiots with fast cars. you race, you fight, you kiss—sometimes not in that order. tonight’s supposed to settle the score. but when has that ever gone to plan?

WARNINGS ❯❯❯❯ Suggestive jokes/themes, Explicit Language, gayness

TAGS ❯❯❯❯ Street Racing AU, Enemies/exes to something, Fluff, Mutual Pining, teeny tiny angst, Underground Racing Culture, FEM!READER

WC ❯❯❯❯ 3.3K

A/N ❯❯❯❯ Bro. Why do all my writing sprees start at 1am. like thats my peak freak hour. I nearly titled this “fast & freaky” 😿🙏 and every time I reread it in the morning I cringe so bad oml. Also fuck tumblr i got this accidentally posted this twice

Minji looks stupid good under neon.

Always has, always will.

She’s got on this oversized firetruck red windbreaker, slung off one shoulder, and a navy cap pulled low so the bold “P” hides her eyes. Not that it matters. You know that look. You’ve memorized it. 

Her little crew is wrapped around her like she’s royalty but you know better.

She never needed an entourage.

She had you.

Once, you were the one by her side. Closer than any of them.

Now you’re across the lot, gripping the wheel like it’s her hand and praying your engine doesn’t stall the second she glances your way again.

You’re parked right at the edge of the strip—an old shipping yard they turned into a half-legal racetrack, lit only by flickering floodlights and the glow of brake lights. Smoke curls into the sky from burnt-out tires. The air’s thick with gas, sweat, and something else you won’t name.

People are everywhere, perched on hoods, crowding around the starting line, drinks in hand, phones out. Some are here to race, most are just here to watch.

“YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!”

 The host’s voice crackles through the busted PA system, slicing through bass and bad decisions.

“Another night, another round of racing! Don’t cry when your bets flop! And don’t cry too hard when your car eats shit on the last corner!”

The crowd whoops. Somewhere behind you, someone lets off a firecracker.

You roll your eyes and lean back against your car, arms crossed over your chest.

“He’s getting more dramatic every time,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” Ryujin replies, slipping beside you, “but he’s right. Bet money’s gonna get ugly tonight.”

You shoot her a look. “You betting against me now?”

She snorts. “Please. I like my money where I can count it.”

 Then she elbows you. “You know Minji’s crew showed up an hour early just to scout the track?”

Your gaze flicks across the lot. Minji’s still there—right where you left her in your rearview mirror.

“Guess she’s worried.”

“Or,” Ryujin says, nudging your shoulder, “..she’s just taking it seriously. Word is a sponsor specifically requested this race.”

“What race?”

She deadpans. “The one you’re in. With her.”

You blink. “Huh..?”

Ryujin stares at you. “Did you not read the group chat?”

You definitely did not.

“Some hotshot sponsor asked for you two specifically. Said it’d draw a crowd.”

You frown. “Why? We always end up tying anyway.”

“Exactly,” she grins, “they eat that shit up. Everyone wants to see who’ll finally win.”

You sigh, turning your attention to the starting line where two cars rev. Another crew-versus-crew race about to start. One of the drivers signals to the crowd, standing half-out the window, hyping them up. His engine is loud like it's got something to prove. The other car flashes its headlights in response.

“Ten seconds!” the host calls out, voice echoing off rusted metal and sweat-slick concrete. A girl in fishnets raises her arms at the starting line, bandana fluttering from one wrist like a flag.

You and Ryujin watch in silence.

"That one’s from Jeno’s crew,” She murmurs, nodding toward the black Supra with matte decals. “He’s fast, but he always oversteers on turns. Cocky.”

You hum, eyes locked on the track.

The girl drops her arms.

Engines scream, tires screech, and the two cars launch forward like rockets.

The crowd erupts as they rip down the makeshift strip.

They drift the last corner hard, one nearly clipping the sidewall. It's messy, but it earns a cheer.

“Messy,” you mutter. “But ballsy.”

“Mhm,” Ryujin agrees. “Still won’t beat you, though.”

You flash her a small smile. But it fades the second you glance back across the lot—

Minji’s not in her spot anymore.

She’s moved closer to the track, standing just behind the barrier, closer than she needs to be.

And closer to you.

You spot her through the smoke just as another set of tires scream across the finish. She’s got that look on again—the one that says she’s thinking three steps ahead.

Well, fine. So are you.

You push off your car and stroll over, hands deep in your pockets, the smirk already forming.

“You finally come to get a better look?” you ask, stopping just a little too close. Like, you-can-smell-her-perfume close.

Minji doesn’t flinch. “Just wanted to see what kind of excuse your crew’s gonna spit out when you choke again.”

“Cute,” you grin. “You sound nervous.”

Her eyes slide to yours. “You wish.”

You laugh under your breath. “You always talk more when you're trying not to feel something.”

The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you and the occasional buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You should probably ease off throttle in that second turn. If the back end slips, counter-steering alone won’t be enough, you’ll need—” She paused, catching herself mid-ramble.

You raised an eyebrow, looking over. “Min.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking again.”

Minji sighed, low and annoyed, more at herself than you. “I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You nervous?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the dark stretch of road beyond the lot, and her voice, when it came, was tight. “It’s not nerves. I just... like to be prepared.”

You nudged her with your shoulder. “And I know when you’re lying.”

She glanced at you, and for a second, something softened in her expression—like she wanted to admit it, to just let it out. But then the wall came back up. She took another sip of her drink, voice casual again. “Then stop asking dumb questions.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to be scared of losing.”

“I’m not,” she said, too fast.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Her jaw ticks, just barely.

Bullseye.

“I talk more when I’m bored,” she fires back, deadpan. “And you’re a slow burn.”

You tilt your head, lips twitching. “Funny. You weren’t bored last time you were in my backseat.”

Her jaw tightens.

“Oh—we’re still pretending that didn’t happen?” you say, sweetly venomous. “Should I shut up before your crew hears how loud you were?”

Minji’s team starts glancing around awkwardly. Yours is already watching like this is the undercard fight before the main event.

“And here I thought red was your lucky color,” you muse, eyeing the way it clings to her. “Still looks better crumpled up on my floor.”

That does it.

She spins on her heel and stalks back to her side without saying a word.

You watch her go, a smug little curl tugging at your lips.

She’s rattled.

Exactly where you want her.

–

Minji stalks back to her side of the lot. The crowd’s still buzzing, cheers, engines, someone yelling about lost bets—but she doesn’t hear any of it.

Her head’s still full of you.

Of the way your voice dropped, just enough to make her pulse beat faster. The stupid smirk you wore like it was your default face. God, it’s like you know exactly which buttons to push, and worse, you do it on purpose.

She’s halfway to her crew’s car when Hanni materializes beside her.

“She’s so annoying,” Minji mutters, yanking off her gloves one finger at a time like they personally offended her.

“And hot,” Hanni chimes in like she’s checking off a list. “Annoying and hot. The deadliest combo.”

Minji shoots her a look.

“What?” Hanni shrugs, hands buried in her hoodie pockets. “You keep racing her. That can’t just be about pride. Either you’re trying to prove something to her, or you’re hoping she rear-ends you and calls it foreplay.”

Minji glares. “Hanni.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Hanni says, all innocent. “You get weird when she’s around. Stiff. Clenchy. Very Batman-core.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Hanni cuts in. “You were flirting and fighting at the same time. Flirting-with-enemies-to-lovers pipeline speedrun.”

Minji scowls, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s not—she’s just… distracting.”

Hanni grins. “Awww. She gets under your skin. That’s sooo gay of you.”

Minji doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. Her silence says enough, especially when her eyes flick back toward the track. Toward where you’re standing.

She still remembers the last time you two raced. The tie. The after. The stupid, breathless laugh you gave her in the dark when you said, “Bet you let me win.” As if she didn’t push her engine harder than she ever had that night just to keep up.

—

Fifteen minutes later, the host’s voice crackles to life again, loud and electric.

“ALRIIIIIGHT! We’ve got a special matchup tonight, folks—one straight outta hell!”

The crowd roars in anticipation.

“Back by very popular demand—Minji of the NJZ Crew, and Y/N from the 88s! You know ’em. You love ’em. You fear what’s gonna happen if one of them actually wins this time!”

People scream. Cameras flash. Phones are up, recording, live-streaming.

Bets are flying, shouted across the space like war shouts. You even hear someone yell “Fifty grand on the 88s!” over the din.

You step toward the line, helmet swinging from your fingers, engine still humming behind you.

Minji’s already there, leaning against her MR2 like she's posing for a photo. Her windbreaker gone, now tied loose around her waist. She’s in a fitted white tank stamped with I ❤️ ME, Her track pants sit low, hips tilted just so— and okay—

You almost hate how good she looks.

Almost.

She glances at you as you approach, then back to her car, jaw tight.

No words?

You grin.

“What? Not even a ‘good luck’? I thought you were a gracious loser, Min.”

She doesn’t flinch. Just shifts her weight and leans into the door of her car, lips curling into the faintest smirk.

“I was just thinking…” she says, voice slow and deliberate, “how nice your car would look with my initials keyed into the hood.”

You blink. Your cocky grin falters for a second—just a second. Long enough for her to catch it.

She saw.

You recover quick, letting out a short laugh. “Dream big.”

She opens her door but pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s cute when you pretend you’re not nervous,” she says, voice pitched lower now. Just for you. “But I’ve seen the way your hands shake after a close race. You still get that adrenaline high?”

Your jaw clenches.

“Why, you offering to help me wind down after?”

She looks at you then. Really looks. Her eyes drag down your figure like she’s memorizing you.

“Only if you win,” she murmurs. “But we both know you won’t.”

You recover fast—ish. Coughing once. twice. Covering your smile with your hand. Okay. She wants to play like that now?

“You always flirt when you’re desperate?” you ask, trying to steady your voice. It almost works.

Minji raises a brow, eyes gleaming. “Desperate?” She steps closer. “L/N, if I wanted to rattle you, I wouldn’t be using words.”

You open your mouth—ready to snap back, or maybe choke—but the host’s voice cracks through the moment.

You blink.

Wait.

You were supposed to rattle her.

-

"Let’s make it spicy tonight, shall we?” the host’s voice booms over the speakers, dramatic. "Winner takes ten grand from our very generous sponsor and... who knows—might just walk away with a real racing contract. That’s right, our mystery backer’s in the lot tonight, hunting for the next underground icon. Think of it as your shot at going pro.”

Racing contract.

cheers and gasps ripple through the crowd. 

That’s new.

That’s everything you’ve ever wanted

Your heart stutters.

You glance at Minji. Her expression doesn’t change, but you notice how her fingers tighten on the wheel, the knuckles turning white.

“And hey,” the host adds, clearly having the time of his life, “loser’s still the winner’s bitch for the night!”

The crowd explodes.

You smirk behind the glass of your helmet as you finally slide it on, slow and deliberate. Your hands find the wheel like they belong there.

Minji’s already seated, belt clipped, gaze straight ahead.

No more talking.

But you don’t need words to know what she’s thinking.

She wants this.

Bad.

Just like you.

The girl from earlier steps back onto the track, arms raised, bandana whipping in the wind.

Red.

Your foot taps the gas once—just enough to feel the purr of your engine under your heel.

Yellow.

Minji’s MR2 booms beside you, low and steady.

You glance once at her, just once, through the smoke and heat.

She’s already looking at you.

And she smiles.

Green.

The second the light turns green, you’re off.

Rubber shrieks against pavement as your tires fight for grip. The force slams you into your seat.

Minji’s MR2 launches beside you, her shift smooth, timing perfect. She’s done this a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.

She’s right there—mirror to mirror, heartbeat to heartbeat. You can feel her, even through the roar.

She's not holding back. Not tonight.

Streetlights flicker overhead, throwing shadows across the cracked asphalt.

You take the first bend a little too tight—there’s a trash bin sitting half in the road.

You overcorrect, swerve slightly, tires skimming the edge of the curb.

Don’t oversteer. She’ll never let you live it down.

Minji doesn’t flinch.

She sees your mistake and takes advantage, cutting inside and passing you cleanly.

Her MR2 hugs the turn perfectly, tires whispering instead of screaming.

Typical.

You spot an opening: a tight, flooded alley shortcut that most wouldn’t risk. You remember it from scouting earlier, but you hadn’t planned to use it. It’s too unpredictable. Still, you dive in.

Water splashes up the side of your car, and for a moment, the whole chassis shudders.

You're hydroplaning—

Breathe. Don’t panic. Catch it.

You do. Barely.

When you burst out the other side, you’re ahead.

Final lap.

Now it’s you she’s chasing.

The road curves into a long sweeping turn, then tightens into a brutal S-curve right before the finish.

You keep your line tight, eyes flicking between the mirrors and the road.

She’s gaining on you again. She knows this part too well.

She’s not even forcing her car just waiting for you to mess up again.

But then—

Halfway through the lap, right before the last turn, something goes wrong.

Minji’s car stutters.

You don’t stop. Can’t. Not now.

You tear across the finish line a second later.

You win.

The crowd erupts. Fireworks explode somewhere off in the distance, a streak of color lighting up the night sky. Your name’s being screamed, shouted, echoed all around you. Someone grabs your arm—probably Ryujin, lifting it high into the air. You barely hear them. You barely hear anything, honestly.

Minji’s out of her car by the time you circle back. She gives you a stiff nod, lips pressed thin like she’s biting something back.

“Congrats,” she says.

You want to say something—Thank you? Did I? Are you okay? Was that real?—but she’s already walking off, disappearing into the crowd before anyone can stop her.

And maybe the crowd’s still celebrating, but all you can think about is her jaw. Clenched. Her fists. Shoved too deep in her pockets. The way her eyes didn’t meet yours long enough to say what she really felt.

She’s pissed.

You know her.

All too well.

-

Later, when the chaos has faded, you find yourself steering your car toward the place you’re 99% sure she went.

An old lot, tucked behind an abandoned strip mall. No lights. No noise. Just the faint hum of a playlist she always swore helped her “focus,” even though half of it was just twice songs and alt-pop breakup songs.

Sure enough, her MR2’s there.

Hood popped. Headlights dimmed.

Minji stands with her back to you, sleeves rolled up, frowning at the mess under the hood like she’s trying to will it back to life.

You park a few spaces down and walk over.

“I thought I told you to replace the starter,” you say casually, eyeing the cables.

She jumps. Just a little.

“You stalking me now?” she says, not looking up.

“No,” you lie. “Just figured I’d find you sulking somewhere.”

“...Not sulking,” she mutters. “Just...processing.”

“Uh huh.”

You step closer. The smell of smoke and hot metal lingers in the air. You glance at the engine, then at her hands. She’s holding the wrench wrong.

You sigh. “You’re gonna strip the bolt like that.”

“I know how to fix my car,” she snaps.

You hold up your hands. “Didn’t say you didn’t. Just offering.”

She hesitates.

Then, quietly so quietly “...Fine.”

You take the wrench from her. Your fingers brush. She tenses.

And suddenly, it’s just the two of you again. Just like it used to be. Two grease-stained idiots under the hood, arguing about torque specs and spark plugs.

“Still a little dramatic,” you mutter, tightening a bolt.

“Says the girl who revved so loud the crowd thought a jet was landing.”

You glance at her sideways. “Eh. Admit it. You missed this.”

She scoffs. “You wish.”

You grin. “You let me win.”

That gets her. Her face twitches.

“No, I didn’t,” she says, but you catch it. That tiny, guilty shift in her eyes.

You step in closer, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“You knew how much I wanted that contract,” you say, voice quieter now. “It’s all I ever talked about.”

Her jaw tightens, and her eyes don't meet yours. She’s thinking—really thinking, like she always does when she doesn’t know how to feel.

You remember those late-night conversations, way before any of this. When it was just you two, talking about your futures under the glow of her dads garage lights. You used to tell her about your big dream of making it as a real racer. You said it like it was just some offhand joke, but she saw it. She always did. The way your eyes lit up when you said it. She knew.

And then, in the present, as the host’s words echoed in the back of her mind, she saw your eyes shine when they mentioned the contract. You were ready to take it, to take that chance, and she let you.

“Min,” you say, softer, “your car was fine five minutes before the race.”

She still doesn’t speak. Just looks away. Jaw tight.

Her lips tremble slightly, but she stays quiet. Always holding back. Always too in control. But not tonight.

You step in closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Close enough to see the way her fists twitch like she’s holding back from either hitting you or grabbing you.

You don’t say anything else.

You just wait.

And maybe that’s what breaks her.

Because a second later, she moves.

No warning—just a sharp inhale, and then she’s on you. Arms locking around your shoulders, body crashing into yours like she’s trying to shove all the distance out of the way. She hugs you hard. Desperate. Her breath hits your neck hot and ragged, and you feel the tension in her spine like a livewire.

Her grip’s bruising. Her nails dig into your back like she wants to hurt you for making her care this much. But you don’t let go.

You never could.

She buries her face into the curve of your neck, and the exhale she lets out sounds like a surrender as her hands slide down your sides, fingers pressing into your waist with a force that leaves no room for escape. Her lips graze your skin when she speaks, sounding shaky and too honest.

“I missed you,” she mutters, and god—it’s not fair, the way your heart jumps like you haven’t heard her lie a hundred times before.

Rivals, sure. Exes, yeah. But damn—her hands still remember the shape of your waist better than her steering wheel.

MINJI IN RED LIKE😻😻😜😜 RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

taglist: @arihiu @fruityg0rl @keiji-jin @strangercat @yjiminswallet @hazel-tanthamore22 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @gtfoiydlyj @Mj.Db @gtfoiydlyjm @somedaydream @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @Drvirgus @aloneinacity @nnewjeansstuff @imsogay504 @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife

[angel06babysworld]

Almost a Family

babydaddy!rafe x blackcat!reader

Chapter One

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Rafe Cameron was leaning back on the hood of his truck when she told him.

It was mid-July, sticky and slow, the kind of summer evening where the air barely moved and everything smelled like salt and sunburnt pavement. He had a toothpick between his teeth, lazy grin stretched across his face, that sleeveless tee he liked way too much hanging off his sun-kissed shoulders. She stood in front of him, arms crossed tight, fingers digging into her own skin.

“Rafe,” she said quietly, “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. Smiled for a second—because he thought she was joking. She watched that split-second of levity flash in his eyes before it vanished completely. His whole body seemed to go still.

“What?”

“I’m late. I took the test,” she said, voice steady even though her heart felt like it was cracking through her ribs. “Twice.”

He sat up straighter, the grin gone now. “But—we were careful.”

“We weren’t careful enough.”

For a long second, he said nothing. He just stared at her like he was trying to make the words mean something else. Like she’d say just kidding if he looked hard enough.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, like if he just moved fast enough the problem would disappear behind him. “Shit. I mean… I thought you were on the pill.”

“I was. You knew I missed two last month.”

“That doesn’t mean—God, I didn’t think—” He cut himself off, breathing heavy now. “I’m eighteen, Blackwell. I’m just trying to graduate. You’re sixteen. We’re not—this isn’t… I’m not ready to be someone’s dad.”

Her throat felt raw. “You think I am?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No. You just said you’re not ready, like I’m not standing here already terrified out of my mind.”

He didn’t look at her. Not really. Just kept pacing, palms on his hips like the weight of this belonged to gravity and not to him.

“I’m not ready,” he said again, softer this time. “I care about you. But this… this changes everything.”

She folded her arms tighter. “Yeah. It does.”

Rafe opened his mouth, closed it. He looked at her like he wanted to fix it, like maybe if he just said the right thing she’d stop looking at him like he’d just walked away from her without taking a single step.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So she turned and walked off his driveway barefoot, too stunned to cry.

Well. That was four years ago.

Now, she was nineteen. A mom. And not just a mom—the mom. The one with the schedule, the backup snacks, the allergy list in her notes app. The one who remembered field trip forms and saved Vivianna from eating glue. She lived in a little two-bedroom apartment ten minutes from the preschool, drove a car with juice box stains on the back seat, and didn’t have time to wonder what Rafe was “ready” for anymore.

And Rafe—twenty-one now—was trying.

Trying in the way a boy tries when he knows he should’ve been a man by now. He paid his part. He showed up. He sent good morning texts with coffee money attached. Sometimes, when he picked Vivianna up, she’d fall asleep on his chest and he’d look at her like the world cracked open the day she was born.

But he didn’t get to call her his girl anymore. Not her. Not the woman who carried it all when he wasn’t ready.

They co-parented.

Kind of.

Some weeks were smoother than others. Some exchanges ended with a tired smile and a nod. Others ended with slammed doors and sharp, unfinished sentences.

Still—there were moments.

Like the one coming up, right now, as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror brushing Vivianna’s curls into pigtails while the toddler babbled about how she told her teacher that “mommy has special powers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of powers?”

“Like—you make everything work! And you don’t even cry!”

That made her laugh under her breath. “You don’t know how many times I almost have.”

Vivi beamed in the mirror, proud of herself, even as applesauce clung to her shirt. Her daughter was loud, bright, full of too many questions and too much energy. She had Rafe’s grin. And her eyes.

There was a knock at the door just as she zipped up Vivi’s hoodie.

Rafe. Right on time. For once.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[honeyryewhiskey]

ᝰ MARLBORO MAN | MECHANIC!DEAN

❝ dirty ❞

⊹₊ ⋆ he looks like he works with his hands

and smells like marlboro reds ⊹₊ ⋆

the story — you’re back in sleepy sioux falls for a slow, sticky summer—just graduated, crashing with uncle bobby, and working at his auto shop while you figure out your future. but your quiet plans derail in the shape of your childhood crush, dean winchester.

ᝰ

... dirty hands, sundresses + temptations ... mutual pining don't get caught! bit of backstory flirting / teasing 18+ smut / face riding 3.6k words

Dean didn’t so much as blink when Bobby mentioned his niece would be spending the summer in Sioux Falls. If anything, he was relieved. The old house had been feeling too damn quiet since Sam took off for the East Coast—something about a law school internship and building connections. Dean stopped listening after that. He just knew the place needed another body in it.

He didn’t remember much about you.

Back when you first met him, you were just a kid. Braces and sneakers, tagging behind your mom the summer she showed up on Bobby’s porch, looking for a soft place to land. Dean had barely looked up from under the hood that year—too busy burying himself in grease and carburetors, trying to tune out the mess of a life he’d been handed.

It was Sam who finally made him snap out of it.

Dean could handle John’s anger. His silence. His barking orders and long disappearances. But when that shit started trickling down to Sam, that was the line. Dean scraped together a couple weeks’ worth of pool hall cash, bought two bus tickets, and got his little brother the hell out of there.

They showed up at Bobby’s place late one night, just two kids with duffel bags and bruises they didn’t talk about. Bobby opened the door without asking questions. Took them in like it was nothing.

Your mom was already there, already softening the place up. She made breakfast every morning, scolded Dean when he cussed too close to the stove, taught Sam how to write scholarship essays like she knew he was meant for more.

John didn’t come back.

But one morning, Dean woke to the sound of you shouting from the front yard—your voice high and incredulous, calling out about some old Chevy parked crooked in the gravel.

It was John’s car. Now Dean��s. The engine was still warm. No note. No goodbye. Just a stack of paperwork on the passenger seat and enough signatures to get them enrolled in school by fall.

You, your mom, and all that feminine sweetness were gone by the time the leaves changed. Just a blip, really—but enough to soften the hard edges of that summer. Enough to make this place feel like more than a pit stop. Like maybe sticking around wasn’t such a bad idea.

That was years ago. Since then, Dean’s let go of some of the weight he used to carry around like armor. The bitterness, the aimlessness. He traded it in for steady work, cold beer on the porch, and the kind of peace that sneaks up on you when you stop looking for it.

He’s changed.

And good god, so have you.

You’re twenty-two now. All sun-kissed and sure-footed, sweet like your mama—but there’s fire in your blood, too. That Singer stubbornness, sharp and unmistakable. You’ve got a business degree fresh off the presses and a knack for poking at the chaos of Bobby’s bookkeeping like you were born to set it straight.

Dean’s spent the last few weeks watching you sweep into the shop with your pretty smile and your sharp tongue, bossing around two grizzled mechanics like you’ve been doing it your whole life. And somehow, he doesn’t mind it. Not one damn bit.

It’s the way you carry yourself—like you know exactly who you are now. Like you know he’s looking, and maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind.

And that has been messing with Dean’s head more than he cares to admit.

It starts small. Innocent, even. Dean starts coming in through the front of the shop more—where the office is, where you are.

He claims he’s just grabbing a water, looking for Bobby, checking the mail. You don’t call him on it, even when it’s the third time in an hour and the cooler’s still full in the garage.

You tease him when he leans over your desk, crowding your space just to squint at the books you’re trying to balance. He smells like motor oil and sun-warmed cotton, and it makes your heart do a little skip you pretend not to notice.

“You’re missin’ a decimal,” he says once, grinning when you swat his hand away.

“You’re missing boundaries,” you shoot back.

But he doesn’t move.

He starts bringing you snacks from the gas station like it’s nothing. Drops them on your desk without a word—just a bag of sour gummies or a cold soda, sometimes your favorite jerky.

“Didn’t ask for this,” you tell him.

“Didn’t say you had to,” he says back with a shrug, already walking away.

One afternoon, you’re on your tiptoes reaching for a box on the top shelf, and Dean’s suddenly behind you—one hand braced above your head, the other plucking the box down like it’s nothing.

You’re not even sure if you thanked him or just blacked out a little.

He doesn’t move right away, though. Just stays there a beat too long, close enough that your back brushes his chest when you step down.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low and smug, “just ask for help, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, and you don’t push him away.

It’s stupid things.

Like him accidentally knocking over your pencil cup just so he can squat down next to your desk and hand everything back to you slowly, fingers brushing yours.

Like him always needing you to “come take a look at this real quick” in the garage—even when you don’t know jack about what you’re looking at.

Like the way he seems to be in your doorway whenever you sigh too loud.

You give it right back—poking at his ego, calling him old, cracking jokes about his taste in music. He calls you a brat, threatens to toss you in the shop sink the next time you sass him.

But there’s a softness under it. A sweetness.

And when the shop’s quiet and the sun’s sliding golden through the windows, it starts to feel a little like a game. Like the start of something. Something neither of you are willing to name just yet.

ᝰ

The screen door slams behind you, and you wince—loud enough to make Bobby yell if he were home. But it’s just you and Dean.

And the heat.

The kind that clings to your skin, makes everything feel slow and sticky. The kind that turns a simple short sundress into a damn weapon.

You head toward the garage, trying not to trip over one of Dean’s many pairs of oversized work boots—kicked off somewhere on the gravel after a long day of work. You toe one lightly into the grass as you pass, smirking.

The garage doors are open on either side, letting sunlight spill across the concrete and beckoning any bit of relieving breeze that might sweep in. There’s an old rock station playing low on the radio, and over it, you hear Dean.

Muttering. Cussing. Grunting.

You peek in to see him flat on his back under the frame of a ‘71 Chevelle, shirt riding up just enough to show a bit of his toned stomach, a smear of grease high on one hip. The kind of detail that really should not matter, but your brain short-circuits all the same.

You lean a hip against the end of the car. “You always talk to her like that?”

A clang. A thud. A muffled curse.

Dean slides out on the dolly, grease-smudged and flushed, his hair sticking slightly to his forehead. “Jesus,” he mutters, wiping sweat from his brow. “You tryin’ to give me a heart attack?”

You smile—sweet, innocent, deadly. “Just checking in.”

Dean squints up at you, and that smug little line of amusement on your face falters when you catch the full weight of his gaze. It drags down your body like a hand. Over your slightly exposed chest, the way the hemline of your dress flirts with the tops of your thighs. The movement is like a laser, and Dean’s the poor house cat too stupid to avert his gaze. 

“You know Bobby’d have my head if he saw you prancin’ around in that in the shop.”

You glance down, then shrug. “Guess it’s a good thing he’s at the junkyard.”

Dean stands, stretching. You catch the way his shirt lifts again, the flex in his arms as he runs a hand through his hair. He picks up a wrench—needlessly—and spins it lazily in his fingers.

“You always make that much noise when you’re pretending to work?”

That gets you a slow grin. He steps forward, peering down at you from his taller frame, cat-like grin turning into a flirty smirk.

“Nah,” he shrugs, voice low and a little too warm. “That’s just for you.”

Your heart thuds under the weight of all of his attention, but you play it cool. “Lucky me.”

He’s close now. Just close enough. Not touching—but you feel it. Like the air changes when he’s in your orbit. Charged.

Then, like he can’t help himself, Dean reaches out and tugs gently on the hem of your dress.

“You just wearing this to stir up trouble, or is it my lucky day?”

You slap his hand away, but you’re grinning.

“It’s a good dress for a day like today,” you fire back, easy and sweet.

Dean leans against the car beside you, arms crossed, the smirk tugging at his mouth betraying how much he likes the game. “You mean hot and sweaty?”

His gaze drops—slow, deliberate. Tracing the path from your bare shoulders down to the outline of that sundress clinging to your hips, breeze catching just enough to drive him insane.

Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the fumes. Maybe it’s just been too damn long since someone looked at him the way you do. Whatever it is, Dean’s restraint is hanging by a thread.

Bobby’s the only thing keeping him in check—and with the old man miles away, that thread is starting to fray.

He wonders, shamefully hopeful, if you wore the dress for him. If you knew he’d be down here, sweating through his shirt, half-wild from the sun and whatever tension’s been building between you since summer started.

Then you clear your throat—sharper than it needs to be. It slices through the moment like cold water poured down his spine. Dean’s eyes drop fast, like he’s been caught red-handed, and before he can think better of it, he’s rolling himself back under the car.

“I should finish this before the old man gets back,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

He fits his wrench into place, starts working blindly—but the only body on his mind now is yours.

He’s barely settled when he catches movement—a shift, subtle at first, just a flicker in his peripheral.

Then your boots land. One, then the other. Planted firm on either side of him—close, far too close. One taps, slow and measured, the sound echoing off the concrete and thrumming straight up his spine like a live wire.

Dean mutters a curse under his breath. Wrench clutched in one hand, the other flexing tight at his side. It’s the heat, maybe. Or the attitude in your step. Or the scent of your skin drifting down to him—warm, clean, faintly sweet. Whatever it is, his jeans feel too tight against his cock and he’s running through the car’s framework to think of everything cold, dirty, metal. Not soft, plush, warm skin he wouldn’t mind exploring with his lips alone. 

He doesn’t even needs his hands, no, his mouth will do just—

His jaw clenches. His knuckles go white around the wrench.

“Dean,” you sing-song, dragging out his name in that syrupy tone that’s been unraveling him, thread by damn thread, since the moment you walked back into his life.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare.

Stares at the undercarriage like it might save him from himself.

“Yeah?” His voice comes out rough. Graveled. A little too dry. He quietly wonders where all his bravado went, his go-to charm for girls who get him hot and bothered. But somehow, for some reason, with your legs on either side of his hips he can’t do a damn thing but sweat like some teen talking to a pretty girl for the first time. 

“You hiding from me now?”

He swallows hard. Doesn’t trust himself to speak.

“C’mon,” you coax, nudging his side gently with the toe of your boot. “You afraid of getting a little grease on me?”

He lets out a humorless chuckle, low in his throat. There is absolutely nothing funny about how you make him feel, but the heat’s making him lose his goddamn mind. “Grease ain’t the problem, sweetheart.”

The silence that follows is thick enough to bite into. Heavy. Crackling with something unspoken.

Then your voice cuts through it—quieter now, but edged with bold curiosity.

“What is?”

Dean closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the dolly with a quiet thunk. You. Of course it’s you. All legs and temptation and that voice—that damn voice—the one that curls around his thoughts at night when the house is too still, too quiet, too full of you. And all he has are those thoughts and his hand around his cock. 

“Tryin’ to focus here, sweetheart,” he grits, dragging a palm down his thigh—wiping sweat or control, he can’t tell. And he sure as hell doesn’t let himself imagine those fingers gripping your hips, smearing grease across soft skin.

“Didn’t realize I was a distraction,” you murmur.

Dean laughs—if it can be called that. It’s more exhaling than sound. More tension than ease. “Yeah, well. You are.”

Another tap of your boot. Another slow, smug tilt of your head—he can’t see it, but he hears it in your little responding laugh. That teasing confidence you’ve grown into like a blade in velvet.

A moment passes. Then another.

And finally, Dean rolls out from under the car, the wrench clattering faintly to the floor.

His eyes drag up until they find yours—locked, daring—and for a second, just one, he forgets every reason he’s been keeping his distance.

“You keep standin’ over me like that,” he rasps, “and I’m not gonna finish a damn thing today.”

You smile.

Sweet. Wicked. Like you’ve already won. It draws him up, like he’s a ship in the night following the light that is your pretty little smile. He sits with his eyes level to your core, but keeps his gaze on yours. 

“That’s kinda the point.”

Dean opens his mouth, maybe to warn you, maybe to beg, but before he can speak, a gust of wind slips through the open garage doors. He feels time slow down as the hem of your sundress flutters—light as breath, playful as sin—and it lifts just enough to show him what isn’t underneath.

His lungs forget how to work. His grip tightens on nothing but the sweat and oil in his palms.

You’d considered wearing panties today. You really had. But it’s hot, and humid, and truthfully... it was more fun this way.

Dean's voice comes slower now, rougher. He’s given up controlling his eyes, letting them lock onto the dizzying pattern of little white flowers, a pattern so sweet and innocent it’s almost comical. “You and I both know... if we do this... it’s my head starin’ down the barrel of Bobby’s shotgun.”

You giggle—that sound, all honey and hellfire—makes his hands twitch, desperate to reach out and pull you onto his lap. “What?” you start with a tease in your tone, “You scared, Winchester? Didn’t figure you for such a good boy. Keepin’ your hands where they’re s’posed to be.”

His smirk twists, eyes flicking up to yours, burning with a desire he’s ready to let loose. Follow that sin down the rabbit hole and deal with the consequences later, after he gets what he wants, after he has a taste of you. 

Maybe once he has you shaking and whimpering, you’ll learn not to toy with a man like him.

“I can manage just fine without my hands, sweetheart.”

You lean in—breath close, words closer.

“Prove it.”

It’s all he needs to hear for the pesky little mental restraints to break. His palms wrap around your calves, marking you with his dirty hands and holding you in place as his lips trail kisses up your inner thighs. He smirks when he feels your muscles tighten under his lips, his teeth dig into flesh, a sigh leaves your lips. 

“Don’t tease me, Dean.” you say, breathless, your small hands steadying yourself at his shoulders. 

His hands slide up your legs, pulling at the space behind your knees and you follow him down. He lies back onto the dolly, and it’s like slow motion, how you fall to your knees over him. Hovering like you’re suddenly unsure of your next move—just like he thought, all confident backtalk. 

“You’ve got two options, sweetheart,” he mumbles between kisses on your thighs, “either walk out of this garage and we never mention this again.” he’s half paying attention to what he’s saying, too busy soaking up the scent of your sweat and perfume engulfing his senses. It’s like a fucking dream compared to the metallic blend he’s used to. 

“Or you sit that pretty pussy on my face and let me prove to you I don’t need my hands for a damn thing.” 

He holds back a laugh when you gasp like you’ve never been told exactly what a man wants you to do for him. And fuck, he’s getting off on just the thought of making you feel more than anyone else ever has. 

A claim as damning as the greasy hand prints he presses into your thighs. 

You shuffle forward, lining your core up with his face, and it’s the best damn day he’s ever had in this stuffy old garage as you lower yourself onto his mouth. 

His tongue sweeps through your fold like a man starved—greedily, he pulls your clit between his soft lips. The jolt it sends through your body only makes his mouth work faster, devouring every bit of sweetness he severely lacks in all his time spent between metal and concrete. His palms grip firmly on either thigh, holding you in place and locking all his senses in you. 

He teases your clit with small licks, making the stubble on his chin graze your sensitive folds, the overstimulation making your cheeks turn pink and vision blur. 

“Dean,” you sigh—whimper, head falling back as your hips rock into his mouth. He moans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and making you clench around nothing. Aching for more, for all of it, for him and his dirty mouth and dirty hands. 

He works you with his mouth like he was born for it, tongue swirling and lips nipping at a dizzying pace. His brazen, hungry motions build a tension deep in your core. You lose control of yourself, helplessly humping his mouth and whimpering. He delves into his greed, devouring all the pretty little parts of you he’s spent the past few weeks only imagining the taste of. 

He’s not even sure how he hasn’t done this sooner, how he’s going to finish you and be able to stay away if that’s what you ask for. His thoughts only make him work faster, merciless, consuming you while he can. 

The eager sputtering of your hips, nearly suffocating him in your wetness is enough to make him cum right there in his jeans. But he’s nothing, if not a man out to prove something—so he focuses on your needy little movements, that desperation for him and slows his motions. He keeps the pressure harsh against your clit as his tongue moves almost lazily now. 

“Please, Dean, don’t stop—” you whimper again, hips twitching, searching for more as all your senses tingle in the overwhelming heat from him, the sun, everything. 

He lets out a cruel chuckle, his hands sliding up under your dress until they dig into your hips and hold you still. His tongue flicks down, breaking into your aching entrance with force as his nose strikes your clit. You let out a yelp, needing to move your hips but it’s impossible to move in his strong grasp. He’s in full control, despite being buried under floral cotton and your dripping core. 

His lips find your clit again, mercilessly working it between the magic of his mouth until you’re edging on the brink of coming undone. 

“Don’t stop, fuck, I’m g’nna cum, Dean,” you manage to breath out, surrendering to his hold as he wastes no more time, your thighs tighten, digging into the sides of the dolly as your slick shamelessly coats his lips. And he hums, hums almost drunkenly like he’s never tasted anything quite like you before. 

He greedily laps up the mess he’s made of you, peppering kisses to your swollen core before helping you sit up onto shaking knees and crawl down to his lap. 

He sits up slowly, eyes glazed with lust as he pulls you into his chest. You melt into him, breathless, nestled in the steady thrum of his heartbeat like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

The radio hums with a slow-burning 80s ballad, all synth and longing. You try to focus on it—something outside your racing pulse, something that isn’t the heat still curling low in your belly.

Dean presses soft kisses along your shoulder, his fingers brushing over your skin like he’s trying to memorize it. You're a beautiful mess—his handprints smudged down your thighs—and he drinks in the sight like he’s starving all over again. He’d lie on this flat old dolly all afternoon if it meant making you squirm and whimper for him again.

But there’s something hollow within, a quiet ache settling behind his ribs.

Because this feels like the finish line. All those coy games are coming to an end.

He doesn’t get to keep girls like you—smart, radiant, untouchable in all the ways that count. He’s rough, reckless, a guy you reach for in moments of weakness, not someone you build a future with.

“You alright?” he murmurs, voice hushed as he kisses your temple. The shift in him is jarring—gentle, reverent—nothing like the way he touched you minutes ago.

You glance up at him through your lashes, heart stuttering at the way his eyes trace your face like he’s searching for something—maybe hope, maybe regret.

But you’re not that shy little girl anymore. You’re grown. Strong. You know what you want—and you’re done pretending it’s not him.

“I’m more than alright, Dean,” you reply, voice steady.

Then, without flinching, you lean in and kiss him—slow, soft, and deliberate. A promise. A whole new challenge.

You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, eyes sparkling.

“Now I’m just curious what else you can do with your hands.”

tag list 𐚁 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @daylighted @jollyhunter @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @cowboysandcigarettes @littlesoulshine @couturewinx @ultravi0lence14 @snowluvvie @flow33didontsmoke @figthoughts @tinas111 @fitxgrld @rubyvhs @stoneyggirl2 @faephoria @deans-yn @spiidergirlsworld @bombarda-babe comment to be added / removed !

me, writing nasty dirty face riding smut on a lovely thursday afternoon hehheee it feels so good to be back y’all

[jesusatemysnatch]

“anything? that right?”

old!logan howlett x f!reader

summary: you end up in logan’s shop with an oil leak and can’t afford to pay him

wc: 2.3k (i’m in hell the brain rot is BAAAAD)

authors note: plot is very cliche like ik eat me. while writing this i took a break and got an edit of logan to tulsa jesus freak. yes i’ve lost my sanity. also i don’t know shit about shit with cars so yea

warnings/tags: MDNI. dubcon. unspecified age gap. logan is a little mean?? reader has no description besides hair long enough for logan to grab, wearing short skirt. logan grabs readers face. hair pulling. big dick logan (canon). pussy pronouns. spanking. throat fucking. degrading. tears. dirty talk. pet names. daddy kink. fingering. aggressive sex. unprotected sex (wrap it up). cream pie. orgasm denial.

your type doesn’t frequent this place, the auto shop on the edge of a town that’s seen better days. most of logan’s customers he’s had for years, he’d grown used to the faces that come through the shop, greeting people on a first name basis at this point in his career. like hell did he ever expect you. you, who stood behind him when he’s hunched down, working beneath the hood of a truck. he didn’t hear you coming, the radio on his workbench drowning out the sound of your footsteps. “shit,” he hissed, peeling back from the piece of shit he’d spent his afternoon working away at, white beater stained with oil and god knows what else. he paused abruptly when he finally noticed you, drawing in a slow breath. if he didn’t have enough on his plate, here you are. a pretty, young thing. in the thick of the summer you’re hardly dressed in much at all, a little top and a short skirt. “ain’t hear you come in,” the clear of his throat echoes off the walls as he walked towards his bench, wiping his hands with a greased up towel. “can i do for you?” his teeth clamp down on the toothpick stuck out his mouth, an oral fixation to try and keep his mind off smoking while on the job. it hardly worked for shit, nicotine always in the back of his mind. the radio gradually softens, pair of glasses pulled onto the bridge of his nose. “think i have an oil leak?” you sound unsure of it, logan nods, scribbling it down onto a forum he kept for his records. “bring ‘er in. take a look,” his boots thud quietly across the floor, walking past you to pull open the garage door. the wiring had gone out a couple months ago and he’s yet to get around to fixing it, muscles straining as he pulled the door up an over his head. he watched you pull your car in, sighing as you stepped back out. “well.. ain’t even have to look. engine sounds like shit, definitely a leak. i’ll pop underneath anyway, see f’somethin’s loose or if it’s a crack.” he nodded, wheeling his creeper out from beneath the bench with his foot. he tries not to groan as he sunk to the floor, his body too old for this shit. he pushes himself up underneath the car, brow knit in a tight furrow as he took a look around to access the problem. “oil pan has a crack, s’pretty fuckin’ bad. i can change it out for you, take me an hour.. hour an a half at most.” he nods, sat upright, an elbow propped against his bent knee. your expression flashes with annoyance and he thought to himself that you looked like a fucking brat, but god damn did you wear it so well. he fights back with the corner of his lips that threatens to tug up.

logan gathered up what he needed, not paying you any mind as you’re left with not much other choice but to sit and wait for him to finish on your car. dressed like this he figured you had better places to be, but he didn’t give a fuck. you came to him, and the way he saw it was your choices were limited to accepting the help and learning some patience or ruining your car. he’s good at the work he does, it’s why he has so many loyal customers, why he’s been in business so long. he could’ve given you some grief for the look you gave him when he told you about the wait- and he still might. “she’s good as new.” he nodded, sliding out from beneath the car with your cracked oil pan. his chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the dull lighting. he brushed his dirty hands against the thighs of his jeans as he stood, tossing your old cracked pan into the trash as he approached his work bench again, quickly jotting down the work that he’d done. “s’goin’ to be.. nine hundred fifty three. s’for the replacement, fresh oil and that god damn look you gave me earlier.” he nods, dropping the clipboard onto the desk. “take cash or card.” his arms cross over his broad torso, forehead creasing as his brow sunk in. “this is a joke, right?” you ask, scoffing out a laugh as you look up at him though his expression doesn’t let up, unamused. “do i look like m’makin’ a fuckin’ joke, sweetheart?” his jaw is clamped tight, his tone flat, serious. “you can’t charge me for a look?” “i can charge you whatever the hell i feel like. i had other shit goin’ on.. could’ve made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” you scoff out in disbelief at him, shaking your head. “i don’t have nine hundred dollars.” you finally admit and logan’s head dropped forward, a low chuckle coming from his lips. when you didn’t pull out a card he knew this shit was going happen. he saw right through you. “alright so.. let me get this straight, sweetheart. you came here for me to look at your car knowin’ you didn’t have the god damn money to pay for it? is that right?” he lacks sympathy for you, pretty as you were you had another thing coming if you thought you were going to pull a fast one on him. “i might be old, girl, but i ain’t no fuckin’ fool. i tell you what.. no money, no fuckin’ keys.” his voice is low, your keys dangled around his finger and he shoves them down into his pocket. he walks away from you, too god damn angry to be stood in front of you, having wasted enough time on you already. “please, you don’t understand.. i need my car. i can pay you what i have right now and bring you the rest next week, please.” you beg, coming up behind him where he’s hunched over again beneath the hood of someone else’s vehicle, the same one he’d been working on when you arrived. “ain’t my god damn problem.” he muttered, biceps flexing beneath his tanned skin as he tightened a bolt in place. “i’ll do anything.” you plea again and logan slowly stops what he’s doing, looking down at the truck battery he was working at. he sighed loudly, recomposing himself as he peeled back from the truck, walking towards the garage door. he reached up, muscles flexing across his back as he pulled the door shut, closing off the inside of his shop from the street view.

“anything? that right?” he’s standing before you now, looking down at your shorter frame. “anything.”* you repeat in a whisper. he drew in a slow, deep breath as your palm slid over the front of his dirty jeans, stepping closer into you until you’re tucked between him and the truck. he groans when your squeeze your palm around him through the denim, your lips curling up to a sinisterly sweet smile when you tug at his belt. he grabs your face hard, lips puffed out slightly when he pulled you in for a kiss. it’s sloppy, his tongue lapping across your lips before dipping into your mouth, an anger filled hunger. he’s pissed off, but you’re pretty enough that he’d be willing to accept your throat as some sort of payment. he looks down at you as you pull back from his kiss, sinking to your knees. he appreciates that you had no issue getting to the point. “i reckon you must’ve been thinkin’ about this the entire time, sweetheart.” logan mused as you grabbed his cock out from inside his jeans, moaning at the sight of him. “bet you ain’t ever seen a cock that big huh, girl?” the palm of his hand pets against the back of your head as you stroke him slowly, his shaft filling out your small palm. “hands behind your back.” he nods slowly, gathering your hair into his fist, holding the back of your head with a tight grasp. he taps the weight of his cock against your tongue before he lays his base flat against you, slowly pulling his hips back as your warm tongue licked over the veins that protrude from tightened foreskin. “nice an wide.” he mutters, feeding the head of his cock into your mouth, a grunt parting his lips when he brushed the back of your throat. god damn. “you’re goin’ to sit here and take it like a champ. reckon you ought’a think about havin’ my god damn money next time. stupid girl.” he warned you before his hips draw back and roll forward, pushing the length of his cock down the curve of your throat. it’s lewd, the repeated squelch of your throat as he pushes himself inside again and again. “should’a known you’d be this big of a slut when i saw you. cute little fuckin’ outfit, barely wearin’ anythin’ at all. just knew how to get an old man goin’.” he grunts, unbothered by the tears that have begun to roll over your cheeks. he’s selfish, using your throat to his advantage, balls slapping the underside of your chin. the cute outfit you’d turned up in ruined by your own slop of saliva as it dribbled out the corners of your mouth. “good fuckin’ girl. payin’ off every fuckin’ dollar.” his skin is slick with sweat, head lulling back against his shoulders, blinded by the dull white light above him. your throat is exactly what he needed at the end of a shitty week, and he had no shame in taking out his stress on you, sure you wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

when he finally lets up you choke out a cough, spit strung between his soaked cock and your mouth, breathing hard as you look up at him with watery eyes. still, you come chasing for more, hands sat on his denim clad thighs as you licked your tongue along his cock, gasping in a breath of air before you took him back into your throat, craving the feeling once more. “fuck’n hell.. look at you. must really need that god damn car, huh?” his fingers move into your hair again, yanking your mouth back off his cock so he could pull you up from the floor. “ain’t that right, princess? you’d do anythin’ for those keys back, huh?” “yes, daddy.” you choke out and what patience logan had left snaps, swiftly turning you around by the hold he has on your hair. he lifts the skirt up over the swell of your ass, palm of his hand roughly swatting against. you. once, twice, three times. your cheeks are stained red as your legs tremble, impatiently waiting for him to give you more. “let me see ‘er.” logan nods, bent over you and he pulled your panties to the side, spreading your cheeks so he had a perfect view of both holes, your pussy slick with your own arousal.

“you like gettin’ treated like a slut.” he acknowledged, spitting against his fingers before he brings them to your pussy, fingertips swirling your clit before he pressed two long fingers into your core, free hand wrapped around your throat. he stroked his fingers slowly at first but gained speed as your arousal coated him, making it easier for him to plunge his fingers into your tight hole, biceps flexing with each stroke of his fingers, feeling out the warmth of your walls, infatuated with the way your pussy sucks his fingers back in. he grins at the gasp you take in when he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing yourself up straighter as he sunk himself deep into your pussy. “daddy,” you softly grab at the hand he has around the middle of your throat, moaning as his chest presses up against your back. “you ever been stretched out this good before?” he asks beside your ear, breathing out a quiet laugh when you shake your head no. he grabs your face again, pulling your lips back to his when he fucks into you, hard strokes that press your hips against the grill of the truck, sure to leave you with bruises in days following. he swallows the moans you cry out, roughly driving his hips into yours. he’s unrelenting, giving himself to you hard the way you deserve it, the way you so evidently love it. it’s been a long god damn time since he had pussy this good, and fuck was he obsessed with yours, cursing himself for fixing the troubles your car had given you instead of giving you the run around to keep you coming back for more. hell, with the way you’re fucking yourself back onto his cock you just might anyway. “you’re going to make me cum, daddy,” you choke out, and he grabs at your hips, pulling him deeper into your sopping cunt. “that right? this ain’t even about you, princess. this was for me, remember? who says you’re allowed to cum?” he is brow furrows, getting a rise out of the way you while beneath him, small hands grabbing at the truck. “please, i know it’s not about me but please let me cum, daddy.” you whine, legs trembling beneath you, threatening to cave under your weight. he doesn’t respond, just fucking into your stretched core while you beg him to cum again and again. he ignored you until he spilled first, filling you with thick ropes of his cum, hips flush against yours so you take every drop deep inside. “you want to cum now, sweetheart?” he asked and you nod, rocking your hips back against him as your chase your own high.

needless to say, logan was more than willing to return your keys. and you.. well you might purposefully pop a tire soon.

[st4rlight707]

Contact High

HAII this is my first time trying creative writing so i apolgize for the pacing i tried my best so pls be nice!!

Tags: College AU!, Caleb x fem!reader, comfort fic, possessive thoughts, drug use, swearing, smut!!

(also let me know if there are any other tags I should add!!) and the playlist is a lil something i put tg and listened to while writing!!

12:47 a.m. That’s what the clock reads when I finally look up from my phone. First night of spring break, and I’ve spent it bedrotting and doomscrolling instead of studying—fully aware exam season is lurking just around the corner.

I sigh, peeling myself off the bed, and wander downstairs for a glass of water. That’s when I saw him.

Through the kitchen window above the sink, out on the back patio deck, sits Caleb. A black hoodie pulled low over his head, his face dimly lit by the flicker of a lighter as he shields the flame from the late March breeze. A blunt rests between his lips.

My Caleb.

He’s smoking? Since when does he do that? Is this his first time?

He checks his phone absentmindedly, the glow illuminating the underside of his face. For a second, I just watch him; at least 3 minutes pass like that, with me watching him scroll through whatever has his attention on his phone, smoking like it’s just another night. All I can wonder is, how long has he been smoking? When did he start smoking? Who taught him how to roll a blunt? The thought of him smoking out girls at parties or in his dorm at the DAA creeps into my mind.

I forcefully slide the back patio door open, suddenly feeling enraged by my own thoughts. Caleb jumps a little, surprised by the noise, and sees me standing there. He gives me a look of a kid who just got caught doing something they aren't supposed to.

"Shit, Pipsqueak, you scared me," he says with a smile tugging at his lips, and sets the blunt down onto the ashtray in front of him. "Since when do you smoke?" I say, pulling his hood down and crossing my arms, the irritation in my voice undeniable. “Why are you mad?” Caleb asks, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his lap. He smells like weed and cologne, his eyes red and his lids heavy from the high. "`You ask like I just committed a crime," answering my previous question. "I don’t do it that often, just… when my brain won’t shut up," he continues.

"So you're out here smoking alone? And what's keeping your mind racing this late anyway?" My eyes flicker to his phone; I can’t help but wonder if someone at school—a girl— is influencing my Caleb.

“Pipsqueak, relax,” he says, voice low. He seems to pick up on it immediately. He always does; Caleb could always just read me like that. He runs a hand slowly down my leg like he’s trying to calm whatever displeasing thoughts were buzzing under my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, uh… guess I didn’t expect to get caught by you, of all people." He scratches his head a bit, clearly trying to play it off, but embarrassed from being caught red-handed. "So you are embarrassed." Unable to resist teasing him in a state like this. “A little." He says, tips of his ears visibly red, "I mean—you’re like the one person I didn’t wanna see me like this.”

A dull pang of guilt settles in my chest.

He didn’t say it in a way that was defensive or ashamed—just honest. Like he really cared what I thought. And for some reason, that hits me harder than I expect.

“Why won’t you try taking a hit? It’ll be fun,” he suggests, leaning in a little, eyes still low. “Let me show you how to let go for a second."

It wouldn't kill me to try it once, right? Plus, I'm with Caleb, and he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.

Sensing I’m close to giving in, he grins just a bit wider. “There she is,” he murmurs, reaching for the blunt. He relights it, it had gone out sitting untouched in the ashtray—and brings it to my lips.

“Just breathe in slowly,” he says softly. “I got you.” The first inhale burns. I cough—hard. Caleb lets out a quiet laugh, clearly amused. “Damn, Pipsqueak,” He pats my back, his palm warm through the thin fabric of my shirt "I didn't think you'd hit it that hard"

"Holy shit, do you get use to that?' I asked in between smaller coughs. Lungs still stinging from the smoke, his touch lingers, his hand gently rubbing in slow circles. Comforting. Casual. Except it’s not, not to me. "Eventually," He says

Goosebumps race down my spine as he takes the blunt back, fingers twisting the ends of my hair—almost absentminded. The closeness wouldn’t usually faze me, but it feels different now. Caleb takes another hit and turns his head away to not blow the smoke in my face.

Maybe it’s how his shoulders have filled out in the past year. Or maybe it’s Tara, my dormmate, constantly pestering me about how I need to catch a dick.

She was always saying things like, "How have you been living with a guy that hot and haven't jumped him in the laundry room already?" I always rolled my eyes, swore it wasn’t like that. But now?

Now he's sitting here with smoke curling out of his lips, his hoodie riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin and the faint line of his happy trail disappearing beneath his waistband, twisting my hair between his fingers like it’s a habit, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. And now I can’t stop noticing how his hand looks resting on my thigh—bigger, steady, and familiar, but not in the way it used to be.

I can feel my heart start to race after this realization, but I'll blame it on the THC entering my bloodstream before I acknowledge my attraction to my childhood best friend. “You’ve changed,” I mumble before I can stop myself.

Caleb raises a brow, exhaling smoke as he glances over at me. “That a good thing or a bad thing?” "I don't know," I admit, a bit too honestly. He gives me a look I can't quite decipher. "Tara's been getting to you, hasn't she?" My head shoots up to give him a look. “Shut up.” “I’m right, though,” he grins, all smug and a little too satisfied with himself. “She’s been planting ideas in that pretty head of yours.” His hand trails up from my back to massage my neck as he offers the blunt back to me.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I take it from him and confidently take another hit. He laughs softly, eyes still on me. “Look at you, getting high with me on the back porch like we’re in a coming-of-age movie.” I look away, trying to hide the blush that found its way to my face, but he can feel the heat creep up my neck anyway.

His fingers find the ends of my hair again, rolling a curl around his knuckle. This used to feel safe. Simple. But now... with his thigh pressed against mine and that look in his eyes...

I feel a heat start to build between my legs, and I shift awkwardly, squeezing them together in a weak attempt to ease the tension. Sitting in Caleb’s lap definitely isn’t helping physically or otherwise. He picks up on this, too. "Are you uncomfortable?" voice low but cautious, like he’s not sure if he should move or stay perfectly still.

“No,” I say, maybe too quickly. “just... adjusting.” He raises a brow “adjusting, huh?” “Don’t start,” I mumble, face flushed. He chuckles under his breath, teasing me. His hand settles lightly on my hips, fingers flexing just a little like he’s testing the waters.

“I mean if you wanna get up,” he says, quieter now. “You can.”

I don’t move. “You want me to?” I ask, in almost a whisper. His grip on my hips tightens just slightly—not enough to hold me there, but enough to say I don’t want you to. “No,” he says finally, voice rougher than before. “Not really.”

He takes another hit from the blunt—just a stub now—and something reckless stirs in me, probably fueled by my high or my jealousy issues. Or maybe it's the way I’m suddenly aching, clenching my thighs against the growing tension low in my belly.

Before I can even process it, I shift to straddle Caleb, now fully facing him, heart pounding in my throat. I can feel him—his clothed erection brushing perfectly against my core, sending a sharp wave of heat through me.

“Shit,” he mutters, his hand instinctively moving to my thighs. “What're you doing, Pipsqueak?” I don’t give an answer, I just reach for the blunt, and bring it to my lips. One long, slow inhale.

His eyes go wide, pupils blown and glossy. “Fuckk,” he breathes. And before he can say anything else, I cup his face in my hands, leaning in, and exhaling the smoke into his mouth, lips barely brushing. Caleb inhales the smoke like it’s second nature.

His hands slide higher, gripping my hips firmly, and he pulls me down against him—my whole body pulses at the contact, heart thudding so loud now I’m sure he can hear it.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice raspy from the smoke. “You have no idea what you're doing to me right now.” I bridge the gap between our lips and kiss him passionately, throwing my arms around his neck to pull us closer together. The blunt falls somewhere forgotten behind me as I grip his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered.

His lips are warm and a little dry from the blunt, and I can still taste the smoke on his lips. Caleb makes a soft sound in his throat, almost like a groan, and pulls me in tighter. His fingers dig into my hips, not hard, just enough to ground us both like he needs proof this is really happening. I feel the muscles in his thighs tense beneath me, feel the way his body presses up into mine.

The high makes everything feel softer but heavier. More intense. I can’t even tell if I’m breathing too fast or not at all.

His lips leave mine only to trail kisses along my jaw, then lower, stopping to whisper against my neck, “You’re driving me insane, Pipsqueak.”

Good.

If I could climb inside his skin, I would. I love that no one else gets to see this version of Caleb—the real him—the Caleb who laughs when I say something dumb, the Caleb who treats every bump and bruise like he’s my personal doctor. The one who lets me crawl into his bed after a nightmare and never says a word about it the next morning. The one that’s mine, even if neither of us has said it out loud..

Dragging him impossibly closer as I kiss him deeper, rougher, until our teeth bump and his breath shudders against my lips. His tongue slides against mine, and I groan into his.

I grind against him again, slowly, deliberately. Feeling just how hard he is, cock barely restrained by the thin fabric of his basketball shorts. Caleb's hands find their way under my shirt now, cupping my breast, and I arch into him shamelessly. His thumbs brush across my nipples a few times, now stiff under his fingers. I bite back a gasp, burying my face into his neck. The scent of smoke and skin feeling familiar and dizzying all at once.

“You feel so fucking good, baby” he mutters, voice rough and half-broken, and I can feel the tension in him—he’s holding himself back. His hands move down, gripping my ass, guiding me to rock against him again. Faster this time. Harder. “You don’t even know,” he says, the words thick with need.

I smile, just barely, drunk on power and weed and him. “Then show me.” He kisses me again, my hips rolling on instinct, chasing the friction that has my head spinning and my toes curling.

Neither of us says a word, but everything is loud—the sound of our breath, the low hum of music still leaking from his phone speaker, the rustle of fabric, the creak of the patio chair beneath us.

Every time his hips push up to meet mine, it gets harder to stay quiet. He drags my shirt higher, mouthing at my collarbone, then lower, lips grazing the top of my chest, leaving heat in his wake, he groans into my skin.

“You’re mine,” I whisper without meaning to.

Caleb pauses for just a second, breathing hard against my chest. “Yours,” he repeats, voice rough and low. “All fucking yours.”

My breath hitches, the words settling deep inside, and I kiss him again. ike I’m trying to brand the taste of him into my mouth. Our rhythm slips into something more desperate, more frantic. My hips grind down harder, slower, dragging out the friction that’s quickly unraveling me. His cock presses up, stiff and hot through his shorts, perfectly aligned against the ache between my thighs

Caleb’s hands slip beneath my ass, kneading the soft flesh, using his grip to control the movement—rolling his hips up to meet every grind of mine. I moan into his mouth before I can stop myself, and he swallows the sound like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak,” he breathes against my lips, voice wrecked and loving. “You’re so wet—I can feel you through everything.”

“You gonna come like this?” he whispers, lips brushing mine. “Right here, on my lap, just from grinding on me?”

I nod, barely managing the motion, my whole body trembling with how close I am. “Caleb—” I gasp, digging my fingers into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me.

“I got you,” he says, holding me tighter, pressing his forehead to mine again. “I’ve always got you.”

I roll my hips once more, and everything in me goes white-hot, crashing and clenching around nothing but need. I moan into his neck as the orgasm rolls over me, wracking my body with shivers and aftershocks.

Caleb holds me through it, never letting go, murmuring something against my temple—something I can’t quite hear over the pounding in my chest, but I feel it. Every word. Every touch.

When I finally come down, still trembling in his lap, he pulls me close, pressing a lazy kiss to my cheek. His hand strokes my back in slow, steady circles, grounding me again.

“You’re really not getting up now,” he says with a crooked grin, voice hoarse and smug.

And I don’t want to.

Not tonight. Not ever.

[stargrltara]

Kinda Outa Luck III

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song "Kinda Outa Luck by lana del rey. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩. Reader is kinda inspired by catwoman in the batman, she works in a club, and on the low she's gothams most wanted female thief. She is gorgeous, and she uses it to her advantage. Oh, did I mention she has a thing for the Red Hood? And, honesty, he does too, though he is pretty shit at hiding it. PT 1 PT 2 PT 3

warnings: 18+ MDNI,

a/n: hey cuties!!! i cant apologise enough for how long i’ve spent doing this, DAMN. but heres the long awaited part 3!! lmk if u enjoy my fics bc i’ll definitely write more in the future! xox

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“ 𝒊 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊’𝒎 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌. „

Each day blended into another after that night. It felt as if your own soul melted from your skin and body, but you were still conscious in the empty pit of your mind. Of course, you were still making drinks, talking to your friends and your boss like normal, but behind your melancholic eyes is a forbidden abyss; impossible for you to crawl out of.

You were so drawn to the electric feeling that scraped through your limbs that night; the sounds of your lewd moans and his gruff pants and grunts. Even the familiar sound of rain trickling onto the glass windows still shoots memories back into your mind. Every word he uttered sounded perfect in that moment, no matter if it was complete bullshit. The slam of the door behind him when he left scarred a burn in your soul.

Although, he left your apartment like it was nothing. And the night after, you found yourself rushing around the city, watching his every move. Every punch and hit he took and gave. Every criminal he stopped, every person he put a bullet in. This was the man you fucked.

You were finally coming to terms with the actions you performed that night; finally accepting that you had hot, sweaty sex with the infamous Red Hood.

You were finally coming to terms with the fact how it would never happen again, and it was a one time thing. He’s clearly got something up with him, the way he just strutted out of your apartment after he just finished inside of you.

That was until you heard the thudding of boots entering the lounge, gasps and light chatters echoing in the room and your eyes glaring up, wondering who it is.

Your lips parted in disbelief when you saw Red Hoods tall, muscular figure glance over the bar, his crimson mask boreing into your bewildered features. And suddenly, you felt a slight sensation pool into your lower stomach, an unknown emotion. You unhand the glass you were cleaning, plopping the hand towel on the wooden countertop before making your way to him, noticing the way he’s just staring at you, almost as if he’s trying to work out a puzzle, or a riddle.

“Anything I can get ‘ya—?” your voice was breathy, but your tone was stern, almost too nonchalant as if the known vigilante isn’t standing before you. He cut you off quickly, “Know where Oz is?” He shifted in his position, arms now folded over his chest which revealed his broad shoulders and highlighted his biceps.

You thought for a moment at how he just cut you off, clearly in a rush for some odd reason you’re not even sure you want to know; a low hum escaping your lips. “He’s not here today.”

Penguin wasn’t here for the whole week actually, apparently some business he had to handle elsewhere, he cut out all the gorey details before drowning you in the responsibility to handle his lounge while he’s gone, along with a few of his other close assistants.

“Where is he?” The man grunted impatiently, a low grumble erupting from his throat and seeping from his helmet. You sighed, not wanting to tell him much as you don’t wanna piss off Penguin for spreading confidential information.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth before shrugging bluntly. “He’ll be back in a few days.” You reached for the hand towel and continued where you left off and focused on drying the glass, trying to act as unbothered as you can, though your furrowed brows and narrowed eyes betrayed you. “Left me and some others to manage it in the meantime.” you muttered lowly, and you heard his abrupt scoff.

“..Oz left.. you in charge?” his brows raised in disbelief, and though you couldn’t see it, you could tell he was shocked by the fact how The Penguin left you in charge of his Lounge for a few days, as if you couldn’t run it, as if you were undermined and deemed weak.

You scoffed back at him, mimicking his own move before glancing back up at him slowly, eyes raking leisurely over his body and then back up at his helmet. “Got a problem with that?” you questioned, clearly taken offence at his passive aggressive tone.

You could feel his stare into you, and a rough snicker emerged from his throat. His head shook, “No.” he said bluntly, but you could tell he was biting back his tongue. You hummed in satisfaction before he spoke again. “You’re just ‘gonna tell me instead.” his head jerked towards upstairs, gesturing Penguins Office; your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You abandoned the drink you were fixing up and the two of you made your way to Penguins office. He carefully shut the door behind you, and you leaned against the desk filled with stacks of paperwork, some cash and a glass of whiskey left behind.

“So are you gonna tell me what this is about?” your eyes rolled, trying to act as cold as possible, though the heated patch in your chest was growing hotter and hotter by the second.

He inched closer to you, each step thudding, mirroring the exact way it thudded the night he left you in your apartment. “Tell me everything you know about his caches.” he ordered, voice rough and rigid.

“..and why would I tell you that?” your head tilted, almost challenging his authority. “You know that ‘info is classified.” you crossed your arms over your chest, still leaning against the desk.

Red hood creeped closer and closer, until you could almost feel his chest on yours, as your eyes raked along his helmet, head folded up at his tall figure as silence echoed the atmosphere. You couldn’t deny the burn flowing under your skin at the familiar proximity of his body before you.

“I’m not asking, doll.” his voice was ragged, and almost a warning. You knew he would leave until he got what he wants, but you also knew Penguin would fire your ass if he knew you told Red Hood anything about his upcoming illegal activities.

You bit the inside of your cheek which was helping to refrain something you’ll regret escaping your lips. But he noticed, and he huffed in annoyance at your stubbornness and grabbing your chin and making you lock eyes with him, his fingers gripping your skin harshly.

You winced before your hands flew up to his chest, attempting to push away the muscular frame as you finally opened your mouth. “—Fine! fine..god..” you kept shoving at his chest, before he finally let go of your chin.

A sigh left your lips. “It’s tonight..” your muttered reluctantly, eyes falling from his to the ground in defeat. “Where?” he straightened his back, listening to your every word, but that also meant his body loomed over you like a tower, raking his shadow along you.

“Downtown..by the docks.” you huffed, still stubborn and pissed at your obvious defeat, knowing you could probably break free but you don’t wanna reveal your strength too soon. “..but all of Penguins goons will be there guarding the place.” you snorted, undermining his strength. “You don’t stand a chance.”

Red hood was silent until a low scoff left his helmet as you underestimate him. “We’ll see about that.”

His grip loosened on your cheek, and you rubbed the reddening marks softly, soothing the pain. He turned around, boots thudding as he left, door slamming shut mimicking the same night he left your apartment. You sucked in a shakey breath, cant deny you were a little intimidated, but also felt a small spark between you two. Did he feel it too?

You were left there in that room flustered, and then you realised. You really want him back. So, a little danger can’t hurt, can it?

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“ babe you can see that i’m danger,

glamorous but i’m deranged, yeah,

teetering off of the stage, yeah „

It was probably a bad idea, but what could go wrong? You just wanted some fun, life was getting tedious without something or someone to play with. And you cant deny Red Hoods sexiness.

Once again, you peeled on your black suit, the material clinging to your curves so perfectly. After putting on your mask and hood over your head, you climbed out of your window, rain trickling down onto your back as you melted in the cool atmosphere.

You made your way to the docks, and you peered over at the sight from a building, examining the setting and waiting for Red Hood to make his appearance. You were starting to lose your patience when heard the interference, and that was your cue.

You leaped down, crawling behind a crate as he swiftly took down multiple goons so effortlessly. You scoffed under your breath as you leaned crawled into the now opened cache while he was distracted, and took as much money as you could stuff in such a compact bag hurriedly.

“In a rush?” his voice echoed through your ears as he stomped his boot on one last thug, making his way closer to you and you bit the inside of your cheek before turning around.

“..you here to stop me?” you raised your hands defensively as you asked through a hum. Even though you planned to get caught, you couldn’t help but allow goosebumps to raise on your arms in anticipation and desire.

He chuckled dryly, arms crossed in-front of you and you could make out how his forearms spilled out of his tight shirts. It was almost alluring. “Just curious on what you’re gonna do with all that money. ”

A playful smirk creeped onto your lips, and you walked up close to him, so close you could feel his body heat radiating yours. Your hands came up to rest in his chest, and slid up to his neck as your heart was beating out of your chest in adrenaline.

“You never kissed me goodbye.” you muttered lowly, leaning up on your tip-toes to glare at him. He was praying that you couldn’t hear the way his heart was beating, the way his breath hitched at every word you spoke.

“..about that,” he huffed roughly, though there was an unknown edge to it. “That was a mistake, ‘m not usually one for one-night stands.” His hands reached down to your wrists, pulling them down from him and your eyes narrowed in disappointment.

“—but,” you stammered, watching him as he began to move away from you. “Oh, come on.” you blurted out, eyes hazey as you watch his every movement. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” your tone was nearly a purr, low and teasing. A small hum rose from his mask.

“I never said that.” he stopped in his tracks before admitting, still facing away from you.

“Exactly.”

“Don’t act all smug now, doll.” your hand was on your hip as you watched him stand still in his spot, head tilted slightly at you.

You both were silent for a bit before you walked up to him and placed your hands on his chest, riding them up around his neck right below his red mask. “Still wish you would ‘just take off this pretty thing, hm?”

He shook his head, scoffing at your persistence to see his true identity. “You won’t be impressed.” his hands reached in his pockets as he grabbed the remote of a device. Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he backed up a little from you. “Might wanna stand back for this one.”

“Huh—?” you muttered before the cache blew up. And then you chuckled at all the money being destroyed before you turned back to him, although he disappeared. Like. Always..

You were about to leave before you heard some of penguins thugs shouting, “There ! Get her—!” your eyes widened as you tried to find a way to escape, but it was too late. Some big guy knocked you out cold on the ground, and your eyes fluttered closed.

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“ 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒚, 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒓? ,,

Your eyes began to flutter open and adjust to the dimly lit room you were in. You were restrained; wrists tied together around the back of the wooden chair you were seated on. Your eyes narrowed in annoyance at the sight, how could you let yourself get caught?

You grunted, attempting to break free at your tied hands, but then you noticed Penguins thugs surrounding you. Their murmurs were annoyingly loud, talking about you as if you weren’t there. Thankfully, they hadn’t taken off your mask yet, if they did, you’d be truly fucked and jobless.

“Look, boys—“ you sighed, adjusting your hips in your seat as the murmurs silenced, “Let me go. — or we ’gna do this the hard way?” You’d raise your hands in defence if it wasn’t for the restraints, it only pulled at your wrists earning another light grunt from you.

What was worse is that you recognised some of these guys from the bar; especially the leader who just scoffed at you, shaking his head. “Not till you tell us what the fuck you were doin’ messin with Penguins cache.” his rough voice echoed through the walls and the thick air.

“That wasn’t even me—!” you snapped, eyes widening. He inched closer, pulling out a pocket knife and pushing it up to your throat, the cold metal lingering against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “Listen, lady. We ain’t playin’ games here.” He spoke again, voice laced with spite. “So unless you wanna live to see Gothams lights shining again tomorrow, you ought’a tell us.”

You rolled your eyes, honestly getting a bit bored of this, you didn’t really have a plan, but you were planning to go with the flow. “I told you already, ass hole.” you groaned, before slamming your forehead against his nose, he staggered back with a painful groan into the other thugs, grasping onto his nose now gushing with blood.

Another thug turned to you and kneeled down to your height on the chair, “Oh.. You’re gonna regret that, bitch.” and his hand came to wrap around your throat. Your eyes widened, and taking caution your legs lifted up, wrapping around his neck before snapping it with ease.

The other thugs stood in shock, and you took the opportunity to quickly stand up, chair still attached to you before you whipped your body round, slamming the wooden chair against one of their bodies before it broke and you pulled the ties, your hands breaking free.

You beat up all of the thugs, knocking them out. You had your boots heel on one guys neck, waiting for him to pass out before your ears picked up a sound in the distance. Your head turned round, and you were hit hard, a force which knocked you only the ground with a thud.

You could feel blood trickling down from your brow, and you muttered ‘fuck.’ You tried to stay conscious, really, but it was hard as the figure lingered over your splayed out state, glaring at you. “Not— cool, man..” you slurred lowly, before you passed out.

Though, you could slightly hear a cacophony of chaos happening. Some swearing, some punches and some knives. But one noise in particular made your eyes shoot open. A gun shot.

You gasped at the sight, the thugs were all shot. Your vision was spotty and a haze, you couldn’t really see much though you could definitely decipher what was said to you. “Looks like I’m late to the party.” a familiar voice ricocheted across your ear canals, his cold but slightly smug tone making you scoff lightly.

“You.. weren’t invited.” you muttered, wincing as you tried to sit up, his colossal hands wrapped around your waist, helping you up, and you fell limp into his chest, body aching. He stood straight, not sure on what to do, but then you felt his gloved-palm creep up to your head, pushing it into his chest in an embrace.

You glared up at him through lidded eyes, still a haze. The crimson mask blinded your eyes, helmet glimmering in the dimmed lighting, still shining in the shadows. “What? No thank you for saving you?” he stared back at you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, they were softening behind the helmet.

“I didn’t need saving..” you muttered, knowing you had it under control.. for a bit. Though, you still didn’t need a man to save you, you’re fully capable and independent. He chuckled roughly under his mask, and the sound echoed through your mind, sending waves of an unknown emotion in your stomach.

He picked you up, hands wrapping around your body to carry you out of the scene. Before you knew it, you were placed on the back of his motorcycle, and you didn’t even realise but your hands subconsciously wrapped around his waist, craving that sense of protection.

He drove you to his base. Fortunately, by now you were pretty much awoken, and back to reality. You followed behind him as he entered through the doors, and your eyes wandered around the place. It was nice, cozy. “..cmon let’s patch up those wounds.” he sighed, placing his keys on the counter before you jumped up onto the kitchen counter opposite him, watching as he opened the cabinets looking for some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads.

You waited, swallowing hard as he turned around, now facing you as he inched closer, positioning himself between your thighs. You both couldn’t deny the tension, it was still strong, still clinging onto the air. Every time he got closer, sparks of electricity from the night before come back, and you find yourself shifting in your seat, trying to hide your growing arousal.

He brought the cotton pad up to your forehead, dabbing the rubbing alcohol against your cuts. You winced at the stinging, and moved your head slightly which resulted in him grabbing your chin with his free hand, holding it in place. “Don’t move.”

“Fine— god.” you muttered low, scoffing at how cold and blunt he is. “How’d this even happen, huh?” he continued with the task a hand, patching your cuts on your forehead before throwing the used cotton pad into the bin and lowering his gaze down your body, checking for any other injuries.

“It’s your fault.” You stated in annoyance, “—they thought I blew up that cache.” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as he glared at you intensely, scoffing through his helmet. “You were there.” he shrugged, mimicking you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So? .. anyway— I had them, you didn’t need to come to my rescue.” you rolled your eyes, and he just shook his head at your attitude. “You gotta be a bit more grateful.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, before you spat, “ and you gotta learn to not leave a girl hanging.” he growled when you mentioned the night again, before he pressed up against you, impossibly close to the point you felt his body heat, and the undeniable bulge growing in his pants that rubbed against your clothed groin.

“Look, I had a lot goin’ on— I didn’t mean to hurt you, really.” his tone was sincere but laced with something else, need? desire? his pitch low, rough. The truth was, he didn’t know what to do. Afraid you might’ve saw his identity, how scarred he is outside and inside. He didn’t want to hurt you by staying and leading you on but leaving meant hurting you more.

You glared down, avoiding eye contact as you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s.. fine.” You wanted to say more, wanted to tell him about that burning desire that still pools in your stomach even at the sound of his voice, but you bit back your tongue.

“It’s not..” he admitted lowly, his gaze also faltering as he looked down before his hands came up to his helmet, and you heard a heavy thudding to the ground. You were too afraid to look up, too afraid to see what might be under the mask, good or bad. But his fingertips came to your chin, lifting your gaze to take in the sight of him.

Your lips parted in shock, confusion, arousal, deep unknown emotions. He was ethereal, his gun-metal, heavy lidded with yearn eyes glistening in the light and locked onto yours. his messy hair from the helmet jet black and tickling his forehead slightly; pink lips wettened by his tongue and a nose which looks like it was carved by a greek god himself.

He stared at you intensely, searching for any signs of fear or disgust, but he couldn’t find any, instead he noticed the way your eyes darkened with the same look you gave him that very night. His glare twinkled between your eyes and your lips, and your hand came up to cup his face.

“—now, why would you hide your beauty from me?” you cooed, soft palm resting on his rough skin which contrasted with the way his heart melted under your touch. “..i’m scarred.. and unfixable..” he whispered, eyes closing softly as he leaned into your hand.

You shook your head, other hand now coming to cup either side of his face as you pulled his face closer to yours. “You’re perfect.” you said without hesitation, noticing the way his eyes softened and the way he was completely allured in your touch. It was different, but you weren’t complaining. Having the Red Hood like this, at your mercy was actually quite heartwarming nonetheless.

You both felt it, the electricity pulling you two together. He leaned into you, flush against your chest as your legs wrapped around his waist, and his lips collapsed onto yours.

Although he was at your mercy, he still devoured your lips. His tongue slipped into your mouth, gliding against your and capturing each others saliva. It started off slow, but gradually became more rough, and filthy as his hands snaked up your torso, gripping the flesh through your suit firmly, as if he’d never were to let go.

Your fingers grazed up his neck, tangling in the wavy, jet-black locks and tugging lightly resulting in the most desperate moan you’ve ever heard him let out. He deepens the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, hand sliding down to your hips and that’s when you realise the growing bulge that’s prodding at your heat; you take the opportunity to grind against it teasingly, and Jason moans again, slightly reluctant of surrendering to you.

You pull away, though Jason’s taken aback by the sudden stop, his eyes open back up and glare into yours. His emerald orbs yearning, his drooping with need and hunger.

You reach for your domino mask, beggining to take it off since he took off his but his hand comes to your wrist, stopping you. “what..?” your brows furrow in confusion before he chuckled dry and gruffed. “..You think I don’t know who you are? I knew since the day we fucked, since then you’re all I could think about..” he trailed off, eyes fluttering closed at the confession, though he carried on.

“..still cant get your fucking scent off my suit,,” his voice was low, a hint of annoyance at the statement but then his voice turns into a soft, needy whimper, “—don’t wanna get your scent off my suit..”

Your breath hitched, and your fingers stopped gliding through his locks as you were in complete shock at his confession. How he knew this whole time who you were, how he was afraid to tell you.

You were stunned, “I don’t know what to say..” his hand came up to your chin, holding it up to look at him and he groaned softly, “I just— I need you..” he rocked his hips against yours to prove how much he needed you, and you gasped when you felt his solid buldge hitting against your core, the feeling sending shivers of arousal down your spine, and slick to coat in your panties.

You knew you had the upper hand, and you felt a wave of dominance rush through you as you grabbed his face, fingers brushing over his lips before dipping them into his mouth. His eyes widened at your bold move, but soon they were shut as he took them in his mouth.

Jason's breath hitches at the feel of your fingers in his mouth, his mind spinning as he loses all control and self restraint, a small moan slipping out from between his lips. “So good for me..” you purred, lips forming into a small smirk.

He lets out another rough moan, his hands coming up, grabbing your wrist, his warm fingers curling around it, pulling your hand in deeper, taking your fingers deeper into his mouth, his mind going blank; his tongue wrapping around them, sucking softly, his mind and body completely at your mercy.

You abruptly pull your fingers out of his mouth, and he whines at the empty feeling. You instead find your fingers raking through his hair,, and then pulling tightly for him to come down to your mouth level before whispering in his ear, “—let’s take this to the bedroom, sugar.”

He waisted no time hoisting you up onto him, carrying you with one hand supporting your ass and the other around your back as he entered the bedroom. He laid you down on the mattress, but before he could get on as well you pulled him by his shirt onto it, crawling on top of him confidently and straddling his lower abdomen.

He looked up at you in pure awe at your beauty, at your fierceness and at the way you looked down at him with a mischievous grin. You take fingertips along shirt-clad biceps, raking along the fabric and glaring at him through doe eyes.

“You gonna tell me what you want?” you raised a brow, leaning in and laying opened mouth kisses along the skin of his neck. He shuddered at the feeling, your soft lips now biting down creating maroon marks to wake at the surface.

“I want—“ he stammered, chest heaving uncontrollably, “I want you..” he groaned, his cock now pulsating with need of release. You hummed, but then shook your head as you leaned back up to glare at him.

“..where do you want me?” your hands came up to run down his chest, and back up again before tugging firmly on the material. “I want you everywhere..” he breathed, struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of your hands on his chest, body tensing up.

You pulled his shirt up and he helped you get it off of him, now he laid under you bare chested, and you could properly see the way his muscles curved. Every scar, every dip and line on his skin was now revealed to you and you bathed in the beauty of it all.

You immediately leaned in, wet kisses planted all over his chest and stomach. You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to mark him, you needed to mark the Red Hood, to make him yours. “Ahh..” he moaned at your touch, eyes shutting as he needed more, “..please..”

You hummed, tilting your head as a way of asking, ‘what?’ and he just whimpered softly, “Need more..” so you complied, and began to grind hard against him, and his head flew back against the pillows, letting out a sharp gasp whilst his body arched up against yours.

His mind went blank as he grabbed onto your hips, fingers gripping hard, his breath ragged and uneven as he tries to regain control, his teeth gritted together, trying to hold in another moan that pleads to escape his lips. "Oh..god...please" He begged so beautifully, his voice low and rough, the desire coursing through his entire body.

Your hands grab onto his that rest on your hips, and pull them off of you , interlocking your fingers before pinning his hands on either side of his head.

You must admit, having him pinned here like this, under your submission, aching for you is quite ironic knowing that he can easily flip you over and take you, he’s twice your size and strength, though it’s amusing seeing him like this all pathetic, starving for touch. “..let’s not get ahead of ourselves, honey.” You whisper into his ear, hot breath fanning his skin. He nods, humming a small sound before you chuckle, “..now tell me where you want me, again.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, he finds his mind a haze, this feeling foreign to him. “Where..?” you repeat teasingly before licking a long stripe from his jaw to his throat, a slick trail of your saliva glistening through the moonlit reflection. He lets out a groan at the feeling, wanting to pull you off of him and flip you over, wanting to show you who’s boss, show you who’s stronger, but he couldn’t, he felt under your submission.

“..was it here..? You then move down moving up to where you have his hands pinned and nibble on the skin of his muscles, before kissing the reddening mark. “—or here..” you giggle slyly, knowing how pent up you’re making him before giving one hard grind against him.

His eyes closed at the wave of pleasure that rushed through him, and he begged again, this time more rough, more demanding, “Please— stop teasing me,” and you just smirked, bottom lip coming between your teeth. “..because you asked so nicely.” you trailed off, sitting back on his lower abdomen, now staring at his state. He looks fucking gorgeous, could genuinely devour him right there right then.

His hair a mess, beads of sweat collecting near his eyebrows and gunmetal blue eyes now hooded with need and desire. You peel off your top, and Jason relishes in the sight, savouring every moment as you then throw the shirt into the abyss of his bedroom floor.

Jason’s body tense with anticipation, his eyes drinking in your every movement, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes move across the exposed skin, your laced-lingerie that he just wanted to rip off, the way your nipples pebbled under your bra.

His body reacting almost automatically, his hands reaching up, wanting to touch you, to pull you to him, to feel your body against his. He pulls your bra down, hands coming to unclasp it as quick as possible as he almost moans at the sight of your breasts, all perky and on display for him.

He leans in, taking the bud into his mouth before swirling his hot tongue around your nipple, over hand coming up to palm at your other breast, your body warmth radiating off of each other. He groans against your skin, vibrations attacking you, when his nose is corrupted with your natural aroma.

Your eyes shut at the feeling, your hips slowly moving at a rhythm against his. He pulls away from your breast with a pop, before moving to the other one, thumb rolling against the nipple as he watches it harden. “—fuck..” you gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure, it overcomes your senses, and you drown in the bliss.

He pulls away again, leaving you in a quivering mess as he moves you slightly to take off his pants, along with his boxers. You sit between his thighs as you watch his cock spring free, the sight heavenly.

Seeing it this time was different, last time it was mere features that happened to show in the dimmed lighting, this time you could see it perfectly. The thickness, long length and slight curve, two veins which ran down the sides and the twitching, flushed mushroom tip leaking with pre-cum. He looked like he was carved by a greek-god himself.

You needed to taste him, to taste his seed. You wanted to feel him in your throat, and he wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of your lips wrapped around his length.

Your lips part as he looks down at you with desperation; then your palms come down to his thighs, before you leaned in, kissing the tip of his dick too softly, too sweetly. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling, but he needed more. His hands came to your hair, tangling in the locks before forming a ponytail and without warning, shoving your throat into his cock to end the teasing.

He moaned, so beautifully; head thrown back onto the pillows whilst you sat between his thighs taking his thick cock. You took him so well, head bobbing up and down as he face fucked you, spit bubbling at the corner of your mouth and dripping onto the sides of his length, onto the sheets and his thighs.

Your hands removed their grip from his thighs but moved to where you couldn’t take all of him. Your hand wrapped around the bottom of his cock, pumping as your spit that dribbled down from your mouth was now lubricating the bottom of his cock.

“Shit.. ahh— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum if you keep doing that,“ jason’s voice was strained, full of lust as his grip on your hair got tighter, and you started stroking rougher, eager to make him release all whilst hollowing your cheeks which made his legs tremble.

Though before he came, he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped for air, eyes rolling back as you came back to reality from the haze of his cock shoved down your throat. He sat up, pulling you up onto his lower abdomen as you tried to look at him through hooded eyes.

His fingers came up to your chin, tapping your face lightly, “—need to feel you,, need to feel my cock inside you.” he muttered low, and you nodded, a smirk growing on your lips before you leaned in, letting him taste your saliva.

He groaned into the kiss, hands coming to wrap around your hips. The slick in your panties now seeping through, and collecting on his stomach. You moved off of the kiss, before lowering onto his cock, pulling off your panties and throwing them onto the floor, as you took his cock inside of you.

Your hands placed on his chest, steadying you as you slowly took his thick cock. Every inch that went inside of you resulted in your mouth gaping open, the tip twitching in your walls as you took him fully; a guttural moan left his throat when he felt your pussy squeezing him up so tight, so possessive.

His precum and your juices mixing inside of you, and leaking down onto his thighs and onto his sheets. Your fingers grazed up his chest, manicured nails leaving light marks as they came up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair as you found the strength to bounce lightly, not too fast, you didn’t want to tire yourself out too quick.

Your mind quickly grew a blurred haze, unable to focus of anything but the growing arousal both of your pants and moans which filled the four walls. "—ah.." Jason breathed out, his grip on your hips tightening, bruising as you were sure it’d leave a mark in the morning.

Your pace grew faster, and his whimpers turned into primal groans, “..you’re so beautiful,” He found himself fucking up into you, hips slamming against yours as he adjusted you to his desired speed as he moved you back and forward on his cock. His digits dipping into your skin, “..all mine..” he was lost in the moment, muttering sweet nothings all whilst colouring your skin in unethically beautiful maroon marks.

Your mouth gawped open, and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped your lips, “Red—“ , his hand came to your mouth, silencing your screams as he corrected you, “Jason.”

You nodded as his hand moved off of your mouth, fingers dancing over your lips as you whimpered, “..Jason..” . Your lips purred his name so perfectly, so seductively as you looked like a goddess bouncing on his cock. Hooded eyes shutting, furrowed brows with sweat beading on your temple, relishing in the feeling of his cock inside of you, re-arranging your guts.

You felt your release approaching, along with his as his cock twitched inside of you. Your bounces faltered, beginning to get tired so he gripped onto you and fucked his cock up into your walls fast and hard, every thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs as your arms snaked around his neck; his pants and primal grunts growing louder as your gummy walls squeezed him, aching to come all over him.

The sounds grew filthier and slicker, and you were both close. The moon shimmering its hue onto his hooded eyes, deep with hunger and a hint of an unknown feeling.. love?

He was whimpering, moaning into your ear, breath fanning over your ear as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, lips brushing over his skin at every thrust. He was so aching for release, his thighs trembling, “..so close, baby.“, so eager to fuck his seed into you.before grinding so hard onto him, “—know you are too, can feel you squeezing me, i’m right here, honey— not going anywhere,” he muttered sweetly into your ear as you were gasping his name; you were seeing stars, literally.

“Jason—!!” A loud scream escaped your lips, and again, and again, you couldn’t stop saying his name, the way it rolled off of your tongue, it sounded all too natural, like you were made to be screaming his made with his cock stuffed in you.

His seed emptied inside of you whilst your cum spilled out of your cunt mixing with his. You were both panting, gasping for air and seeking the privilege of coming back to reality. He looked perfect a mess. Hair scruffy, tugged and stuck to his forehead, eyes darkened and breathing like an animal in heat. He grabbed the back of your head by your hair and shoved you into a filthy, sloppy kiss. It was passionate, each of you moaning into the kiss as your hands came to cup his cheeks whilst your saliva was leaking down his chin onto his chest.

You slowly moved off of him, the warmth of his cock now gone as you fell back against the mattress beside him, staring at the ceiling catching your breathe. You were still in shock about the whole situation, but now you’re literally lying in his bed.. naked.. whilst he’s next to you.

He’s reluctant about what to do, but then hand comes up to face, pushing a stray hair away from your face as he glared at you with puppy-dog eyes, like he’s been waiting for this his entire life.

“You’re perfect.” he chuckles softly whilst taking in your every feature, even when you’re lying here a fucked out mess, you still looked amazing, still looked like his perfect mess. Your lips cracked into a small smile at his words, heart melting at his soft touch.

He pulls you closer, and your head lays contently on his chest whilst you two simmer in the wave of silence, though it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, it’s quite tranquil, as you listen to his every breath, counting way his heart beats.

His fingers rake through your hair, scratching softy through the scalp as you grow tired whilst your heart flutters at the feeling. Your body relaxes at his touch, mind slowly feeling at ease as he keeps you close, his heart filled with a warm feeling that he almost doesn't recognise. You let out a soft sigh, his body melting against yours, the sound sounding more vulnerable than you would like to admit.

He chuckles while watching you relax under him, "You're making me soft." mutters gruffly and you giggle tiredly, innocently, “Uh, Oh, big bad Red Hood gotten soft?” your voice is low and muffled against his chest.

“Don’t start.” he warns playfully, though there’s also a relaxed tone to his voice too. You smile contentedly at how peaceful this moment is his usual gruff and tough exterior completely gone, replaced by the sight of a man who looks completely vulnerable and yet somehow, completely at peace. He continue to rock you softly and soothe you until you’re completely asleep, your soft breathing the only sound in the room.

୨♡୧

As the golden morning hue peaked through the blinds in beams of blaze, Jason’s eyes blinked open to be met by the sunrise. His heart melted, a smile creeping onto his lips as he took a glance at you in a peaceful slumber. Your hair slightly messy and lips parted, you shifted your position in your sleep while you began to awake as well.

Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took and you lifted it lightly to take a look at him. His fingertips came to your temple, brushing away the stray hairs as he gruffed, “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

You giggled softly before lifting your hands from around his waist to crawl ontop of his lap, kissing him on the forehead. His hands immediately gripped onto your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and you were soaked in his body heat. “Morning, handsome.” you purred, voice still sly and laced with tease which was surprising even at this time of morning.

“You still think this was a mistake?” you tilted your head, leaning in to plant another kiss, this time on his nose which resulted in his face to get all undeniably flustered. He shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his throat, “Never. I don’t regret a thing.”

You smirked, “—not gonna get up ‘nd leave like last time?” you teased, the memories of that night still rushing through you. He just scoffed at how you thought so low of him, even now; emerald eyes rolling sarcastically.

“Well— maybe,” he shrugged, a bit too nonchalantly and your brows furrowed as he got up from the bed, now towering over your confused figure. “..to shower.” he raised a brow, and you sighed in relief but then a small giggle escaped your lips when he held his hand out like a gentleman. “—care to join me, m’lady?”

You nodded eagerly, jumping from the bed as he hoisted you up into his arms, your legs immediately wrapping around him as his lips smashed onto yours in a passionate, gentle kiss. Your hands rushed up to cup his face, and as you pulled away from his lips, you gave him a smitten grin, “It would be my honour, baby.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

a/n II: I’d like to thank everyone for all the support i got during making this series. I’m also so so so sorry for how long it’s taken me, i hope this makes up for it. Please tell me if you enjoyed it, it means a lot and i’ll be sure to make more fics like these in the future. I’m also happy to make part 4, it might not follow the same song but i’d could just be little blurbs or head cannons that reader and jason do in this universe! <3

tags: @1abi @vrtualknife @callmeash @dollishmehrayan @marveljedimaniac

[rambling-at-midnight]

omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

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