#also please don't look at the hands to closely...

[lanalace]

Caleb’s Odyssey

Student Caleb x Teacher Reader

Summary: A young, 27 year old teacher's carefully built professional life unravels because of a brilliant, fixated student.

Warnings: Non-con, NSFW, dub-con, Drug use, Inappropriate relationship, obsessive behavior 🔞

Word count: 6.2k 🍎🍏

A/N: This was meant to be posted yesterday for Caleb’s birthday. Unfortunately, it was also my birthday and I got too busy to proofread and post. Anyhow, please enjoy the late Caleb’s birthday celebration.

Ms. L/n felt it in her bones when the bell for last period rang. The shift in the classroom's energy, the subtle hum of anticipation that had nothing to do with Shakespeare or literary analysis. It was Caleb Chen, of course. He was always the first one in, a silent observer near her desk, determined to disrupt the order in her professional life.

She loved teaching. Loved the way a complex text could ignite a spark in a student’s eye, the satisfaction of watching a hesitant voice find its confidence. But Caleb was a different kind of spark altogether. He was brilliant, undeniably so, devouring literary theory and dissecting symbolism with an unnerving precision. He was also, to her endless frustration, relentlessly fixated on her.

Today was no different. Caleb entered, composed, his uniform crisp enough to cut glass. He didn't look seventeen, his build and mental prowess, a weapon she hadn't yet learned to disarm had never allowed for him to come off as just a typical student. He moved toward her desk, slow, deliberate. He stopped just close enough, a whisper of a violation against the unspoken rule of student —teacher distance.

“Ms. L/n.” he began, his voice a low hum that always seemed to cut through the classroom’s usual din. “I was thinking about our discussion on The Odyssey.”

‘Here we go, again. Alright, buckle up buttercup, for the daily dose of intellectual flirtation.’ She managed a neutral smile. “Oh? What about it, Caleb?”

“Odysseus’s devotion.” he began, his gaze deepening as if contemplating something profound and sacred. “Ten years of war and another of wandering. He slays monsters, blinds a Cyclops, defies gods… sleeps with goddesses. And still, he spends ten years clawing his way back to Penelope. His wife. All that blood, all that sacrifice just for one woman. Isn’t that… admirable? A testament to true love, the kind that reshapes reality?”

Ms. L/n felt the familiar tightening in her chest. This wasn't about epic poetry. "Caleb, The Odyssey is a foundational text, but we don't admire Odysseus for his ruthlessness. His journey is a tale of perseverance, yes, but also of flawed humanity and often brutal consequences." She paused, her voice measured. "He wasn't always a hero."

"But his goal," Caleb countered smoothly, his eyes fixed on hers, unblinking, "was pure. To return to his rightful place, to his fated love. Doesn't that make the 'flaws' merely... obstacles? Necessary detours on the path to what's meant to be?" His gaze dipped to her hand resting on the desk, a silent, almost possessive appreciation of its vulnerability. She lifted it and placed it atop a stack of essays, a silent repositioning of control, a desperate attempt to wall off a part of herself.

“Devotion,” she said coolly, her voice firm, “is only admirable when it respects the people it claims to serve. Odysseus may have loved his home, but his path back to it was riddled with destruction. Loyalty without conscience isn’t noble, Caleb. It’s dangerous. It’s monstrous.” His private smile deepened, a knowing grin that Y/n doesn't understand, but she will.

“Perhaps. But doesn’t the depth of the love sometimes demand such a journey? Isn’t that what makes it grand? When the stakes are so high, Ms. L/n, that one simply must overcome every barrier?” He leaned a fraction closer, a movement almost imperceptible, yet she felt its invasion. “And to think, some people only see the monsters, not the magnificent destination.”

Ms. L/n’s jaw tightened. "The destination doesn't excuse the atrocities committed along the way, Caleb. There's a line. A fundamental difference between perseverance and obsession."

"Is there?" he murmured, his gaze holding hers, brimming with an unsettling blend of admiration and challenge. "Or is obsession simply perseverance, elevated? When you know something is right, when you feel it in your very core, isn't it logical to pursue it with every fiber of your being, regardless of trivial... lines?"

The bell screamed before she could respond, a sudden, startling her. The room filled with students and noise, a welcome disruption. Caleb drifted away, his hand brushing hers in passing. A brief, deliberate contact. Not forceful, but meaningful. She pulled away immediately but still felt the phantom touch lingering like a brand.

This had gone far enough.

She couldn’t afford to make it a scandal. His parents sat on the school board. Old money. The kind that turned misconduct into donations. The kind that could end her career before it ever really began.

But she wasn’t going to let this continue.

~🍎🍏~

Caleb's attention had become a persistent hum in the background of Ms. L/n's days, growing louder and more brazen with each passing week. It was a risky game he was playing, and she, by turns, felt both exasperated and acutely aware of the precarious position it put them both in. She always rebuffed him, but that didn't stop him.

"Just a little longer." She'd silently plead with herself, a mantra she repeated multiple times a day. The end of the school year was a rapidly approaching finish line, a beacon of relief she clung to. All that remained was prom tomorrow night, and then, finally, graduation the following week.

Every morning, walking into her classroom, she felt a prickle of anticipation, a bit weary, wondering how his escalating "attention" would manifest next. She'd developed a habit of scanning her desk, her chair, the space around her, bracing herself for the latest unwanted gesture.

And this morning, there it was. The ceramic mug sat on her desk, nestled amongst her graded papers like a silent, unwelcome guest. It was a rich, forest green, precisely the shade she'd once mentioned liking, though she couldn't recall to whom. Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, was a single, perfect white orchid. No card, no note.

It was just the mug and the flower. It felt less like a gift and more like a marker, a claim laid on her personal space. She quickly tucked it away in her cabinet before the first bell, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the room. She'd deal with it later. She had to.

The final bell rang, releasing the last students into the noisy hallway. Ms. L/n waited, her hand resting on the smooth wood of her desk, until the only presence left was the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights. Then, as if on cue, Caleb materialized in her doorway. His very stillness seemed to suck the oxygen from the air.

He leaned against the doorframe, all grace and calculated charm. His uniform was immaculate, his tie slightly loosened, as if he'd already begun shedding the trappings of studenthood.

"Caleb." She said, her voice calm, professional, but with an underlying firmness that she hoped conveyed her absolute resolve. "Could you close the door, please? I need to speak with you."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes then transformed into a composed look of triumph. He turned and pushed the door, the latch clicked shut, a soft, final sound in the suddenly heavy silence. He took a step forward. His eyes, usually so sharp, held a dangerous softness, as if he genuinely believed this was the moment she would finally unveil her true feelings and reciprocate his twisted affections.

“Ms. L/n.” He began. "Did you like my gift?" He spoke, tilting his head. His gaze dropped to her lips. "I thought of you the moment I saw it."

Another step. Too close now, towering over her much smaller form.

"Tell me you didn't think about me too." He whispered, his voice demanding. Y/n's instincts were slow to react. The suddenness of his advance stole her breath. That was all he needed.

He moved with the practiced ease, closing the space between them in two fluid strides. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body while his other hand gently. cradled the back of her neck.

He lowered his face to hers and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was warm and surprisingly soft. It was a kiss he bestowed like a lover, tender and possessive, as if longed for this moment for years. He did. Y/n was stunned, completely frozen for a moment.

As soon as the shock wore off, a surge of disgust slammed into Ms. L/n. She shoved him back hard. He released her instantly and she stumbled backward, hitting her chair as it scraped loudly, putting as much distance as she could between them.

Her composure shattered, replaced by pure outrage. Her hand flew to her mouth, wiping furiously, as if she could erase his kiss. She stared at him, breathing heavily. The silence was deafening, save for her ragged breaths.

Caleb stood still, his expression a fleeting mask of genuine confusion, quickly followed by profound disappointment. For a fraction of a second, she saw it… the glimpse of a boy utterly crushed, his carefully constructed fantasy crumbling.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by an unsettling, almost chilling calm. His eyes, though still fixed on her, were devoid of any readable emotion, like dark glass reflecting nothing but her own frantic reflection. Inwardly, a quiet, cold rage began to simmer, unseen.

"I called you back here." She managed, forcing herself to speak, her voice trembling at first then hardening with a desperate resolve. Her career. Her job. She couldn't let emotion control her.

"Because your behavior has become not just inappropriate, Caleb. It is completely unacceptable. You just assaulted me. The 'gift’… it’s not welcome. Your comments, your presence… all of it. This is a school. I am your teacher. There is absolutely no basis for this kind of... attention." She gestured around the empty classroom, her voice rising slightly with frustration and mounting desperation.

"This needs to stop. Immediately. Do we understand each other?"

Caleb's arm dropped to his side, his face settling into a mask of complete indifference. The smile vanished.

"Yes, Ms. L/n." He finally said in a flat tone. "I understand."

He turned on his heels and walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out without another word. Ms. L/n let out a shuddering breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He was gone.

But as the silence settled, she didn’t feel relief. No, instead an unshakable feeling of dread seeped in. The way he had just shut down... it felt off. She didn’t realize that she hadn’t deterred him. Her actions had the opposite effect, she taught him something and he was a quick study.

🍎🍏Prom 🍏🍎

The bass throbbed a relentless pulse through the gymnasium, shaking the floor beneath Ms. L/n's sensible heels. Fairy lights strung haphazardly across the basketball hoops cast a glittering, fractured glow over a sea of sequined dresses and awkwardly rented tuxedos. The air was thick with the scent of cheap cologne and the nervous energy of teenagers on the cusp of something.

Ms. L/n circulated, a forced smile plastered on her face, exchanging pleasantries with other chaperoning teachers, trying to look busy. Other supervisors chatted in small groups, their attention divided. Students laughed, posed for photos, and gravitated towards the music.

She scanned the room, her gaze darting around, unconsciously searching for him. He hadn't been in her classes today, which was a small mercy, but she knew he'd be here. No one misses prom.

She tried to push it away, focusing on the eager faces of her students, many of whom she genuinely adored. Prom was always a chaotic flurry of spilled drinks and awkward dances. It made her smile, watching the children create fun memories.

Whether it was from the overly crowded area or the lack of proper ventilation but the gym was quickly becoming unbearable. Ms. L/n felt a sudden wave of heat, the close air of the gym suddenly stifling.

'A little fresh air.' She thought, her gaze drifting towards the propped-open emergency exit at the far end of the hall, usually used by staff for quick breaks. She hadn't seen Caleb all night, and a small, irrational part of her hoped he just hadn't come. She excused herself from the party, making eye contact with one of her colleagues and nodding to them, gesturing to the exit before leaving.

Y/n sighed in relief as the cool night air washed over her. She leaned against the brick wall, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle breeze clear her head. The music from inside was muffled now, a distant thrum.

It was peaceful, she could feel herself relaxing but it was abruptly disrupted. A voice, low and familiar, cut through the quiet. “Taking a breather, Ms. L/n?”

Her eyes flew open. Caleb stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the doorframe, bathed in the soft glow from the gym’s exit sign. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, but dark slacks and a crisp black button down shirt, sleeves rolled to expose forearms that had gained a surprising amount of definition. He looked less like a student and more like… a man. She quickly shook the intrusive thought from her head and reminded herself that this was her student.

He held out a clear plastic cup, condensation beading on its sides. “I believe that I owe you an apology.”

Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head slightly. “An apology, Caleb? For what?” She'd half expected him to avoid her, or perhaps offer a final, snide remark. This was an unexpected turn of events.

He offered a disarmingly charming smile, the kind that had probably won him over countless teachers in his academic career. "For being a nuisance, Ms. L/n. For pushing boundaries. I understand now. It was inappropriate, and I crossed a line." His violet eyes darkened as they locked onto hers.

"I truly am sorry for my behavior. Please, a peace offering." He gestured with the cup. "It's just punch. The real stuff is still behind lock and key." He chuckled.

She hesitated. It was so… mature. His direct, humble apology disarmed her more than any of his previous advances. She was tired, her guard was down, and the sheer audacity of his previous behavior had left her utterly unprepared for genuine contrition. She’d always prided herself on seeing the best in her students, even the challenging ones. ‘Maybe he finally understood. He was graduating, after all.’

With a soft sigh, she took the cup. "Thank you, Caleb. Apology accepted." She took a long, grateful swallow of the sweet, fruit-flavored liquid. It was cool, refreshing, and entirely innocuous.

Caleb’s smile deepened, a tasting victory on his tongue but she was too slow to catch read into it. "My pleasure, Ms. L/n." he murmured, his gaze lingering on her lips as she drank.

The pleasant sweetness of the punch dissolved, replaced by a strange, metallic tang at the back of Ms. L/n’s throat. A wave of dizziness washed over her, making the concrete beneath her feet heave and spin. But beneath the disorientation, unfamiliar and terrifying. Heat began to bloom low in her belly, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Her skin flushed with an unnatural warmth, her muscles tingled and weight down.

‘What… what is going on?’ Her vision swam, the faint glow of the exit sign began to blur out. Every sound from inside the gym, every distant car, every beat of her own frantic heart, amplified. Her body felt foreign, lit with fever she couldn’t control.

She shook her head, trying to clear the haze from her mind and lost her balance, stumbling on unsteady feet. She hadn’t even seen when Caleb moved. He was suddenly there, his presence just too close. His arm encircled her waist, gripping her arm as her legs buckled, preventing her from swaying.

He pulled her close, her head lolling against his shoulder, her mind struggling to form a coherent thought. All she registered was the overwhelming sensation of him, the intoxicating heat radiating from his body as she mentally battled with the primal urge to touch him.

"Easy there, Ms. L/n, just lean on me." He murmured, his voice soothing against her ear. Had she been of sound mind, she'd be able to pick up on the chilling hint of satisfaction.

“You're a little lightheaded. Too much dancing, maybe. Let's just get you somewhere you can breathe. Your classroom is closer." He began to guide her, away from the distant hum of the prom, into the darker, quieter recesses of the hallway.

Her legs felt like rubber. She swayed from side to side as she did her best to keep up with Caleb’s long strides. Had he not been holding onto her, she was sure she would be face down on the cold tiled floor.

He steered her expertly, past closed doors, his gaze sweeping the empty hall to ensure no one saw their departure. The cold knot of fear filled stomach, conflicting harshly with the artificial heat in her veins. Y/n could vaguely discern his whispered words.

"That's it, love. Just a little further. I've got you." He coxed sweetly.

They reached her classroom, the familiar number plate blurring on the door. It clicked open, then shut behind them, sealing them in near silence. He didn’t release her immediately. Instead, he pulled her fully into the room, pushing her against the cool surface of the blackboard, her own professional space now his stage. Caleb leaned in, his body pressing intimately against hers, forcing her to meet his smug gaze.

"So pretty." His thumb traced her jaw, then slid lower down her throat, over her pulse. A convulsive shiver wracked her body.

"Even in this state, you are stunning.” he murmured, tilting her chin up, forcing her glazed eyes to meet his. "Dazed. Desperate. Mine."

Her breath hitched, a weak protest dying in her throat. The drug was a living thing inside her, twisting every sensation into something molten and unbearable.

"Happy birthday to me." Caleb smiled saccharinely, his lips grazing her ear. "I’m finally eighteen. And in a week?" His teeth nipped at her earlobe. "You won't even be my teacher anymore. Why don’t we celebrate early?"

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, her thoughts having trouble picking up what he implied as her body continued to heat with desires. She could only whimper, a raw, helpless half protest, half something else entirely.

"You taught me so much about The Odyssey." He mused, fingers tightening in her hair. "Now let me show you what I’ve learned."

That was all he said before his lips crashed onto hers, devouring hers. It wasn't a kiss. It was claiming. Possessive. Demanding. She couldn't fight the way her body arched into him, her fingers gripping his hair. She could stop herself from kissing him back.

He groaned against her lips, finally getting the response he craved. "Knew you'd feel like this." he rasped, pulling back just enough to watch her gasp. "Knew you wanted me."

Her head lolled against the blackboard as his mouth moved to her neck as he sucked and nibbled little bruises into her exposed skin, tasting the frantic pulse at her throat, enjoying every sigh and whimper he pulled from her.

"C-Caleb… s'wrong—" Her voice slurred, barely audible.

"Shhh, baby." His hand slipped under her dress, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of her thigh, seizing her right leg and pulling her hips to meet his as she shuddered. She could feel the large bulge grind into her and let out breathy gasp. The friction was delicious, she instinctually jerked her hips to meet his. "Good girl. Just let go."

She whined when his palm cupped her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple. A broken noise escaped her.

"Look at you.” he purred, tilting her face toward him. "All those years playing professional. But I saw you." His thumb dragged over her bottom lip. "Always biting your lip when I answered questions right, always adjust your skirt when I stared a little too long."

Y/n whimpered and shook her head weakly, denying his claims.

Caleb laughed, low and dark. “I always get what I want, Y/n.”

His free hand yanked her leg around his hip, pulling her flush against him. She could feel him, rock hard, insistent and her body responded, heat pooling in her panties as her hips lifted to meet his.

"Fuck…" His grip turned punishing. "Even now, you're begging for it."

He pulled her head back slightly, just enough for her glazed over eyes to meet his. He found her docile demeanor to be so appealing, that he wished he could frame this moment. Then a smile played on his lips as an idea struck him.

Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, angling it in her direction. The bright flash momentarily blinded her as he snapped photos of her.

"Gotta remember this." He said, snapping another picture of her flushed face, his hand under her dress. Compromising. Damning. "My perfect little teacher, coming apart for me."

"N-no—"

He kissed her again, swallowing her protest. His fingers dipped lower, beneath the waistband of her panties.

“Ahh~” She jolted, grabbing his shoulders as if to ground herself as his long fingers slid up and down her slick petals.

"So wet for me, Y/n." he breathed against her mouth, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

"All for me." He curled his middle finger, pushing past her folds and into her heated core.

“D-don’t..!” Her vision fractured. light, shadow, the cold press of the blackboard against her back. His touch was everywhere, too much, and yet her body arched for more. A sob tore from her throat.

He groaned as she clamped down on his finger. "So tight.” Caleb forced another finger into her, making her shudder as he began to scissor her, opening her up for him. “Gonna have to stretch you out a bit.”

"I dreamed about this." He growled, fingers working her with cruel precision. "Every night, I imagined bending you over this desk, fucking you dumb—"

Caleb stilled. Then, with a slow, filthy smile, he lifted her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct as He moved with her, carrying her towards her own desk. He lowered her onto it, scattering books and papers, the soft thud of textbooks hitting the floor barely registering. The cool surface felt amazing beneath her all too hot skin.

"Let's make it real, yeah?"

Caleb stood over her, his breathing heavy, eyes alight with a terrifying intensity. He took a moment, surveying his patchwork, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He ran a hand through his dark hair, then reached down, his fingers finding the hem of her dress once more.

Caleb’s gaze, a burning, unblinking intensity, drank in Ms. L/n’s dazed, disheveled form. The satisfaction on his face was absolute, tempered by a dizzying adoration that made his movements almost reverent.

"Christ…" he breathed, dragging a fingertip over the damp fabric. "Barely touched you and I’ve already ruined you for anyone else, huh?"

Her vision blurred. The drug was like a living thing inside her, twisting pleasure from panic, heat from horror. She couldn't tell if the moan that escaped was protest or surrender.

Caleb stepped back, drinking in the sight of her-hair fanned across graded essays, chest heaving, thighs trembling. He unzipped her dress with torturous slowness. The fabric pooled at her waist, baring her to the chill air and his ravenous gaze.

"Perfect." His eyes tracing every curve with pure admiration. "Every single part of you."

He moved to the front of her desk, a predatory grace in his movements, pulling out his phone once more. Not for a photo this time. He set it carefully on a stack of books, angling the camera to capture the scene.

"I want to remember this, Y/n." he explained, his voice gentle, as if explaining something vital to a confused child. "The moment you finally become mine. The moment you finally became mine."

He gathered her dress and underwear, slithered them down her body like a dying breath, falling at her feet that dangled above the desk. Cold air licked her exposed skin, raising goosebumps contrasting from the warmth that came from the shame she felt. She tried to cover herself, but her arms might as well have been filled with lead.

‘No. No. No.’ The plea never left her lips.

Caleb knelt before her, his dark head pressing against her belly as if in prayer. His lips tracing a path down her trembling abdomen with soft kisses that burned like brands. Then his hands gripped her hips, wrenching her forward with terrifying ease. The edge of the desk bit into her back as he forced her upper body down, bending her like a bow.

"Look at this." He breathed, staring between her splayed thighs with hunger. She didn't need to look, though. She could feel the slick heat there, the evidence glistening reflected in his dark eyes.

"Just like I dreamed." His voice trembled with something worse than lust-reverence. A fingertip grazed her swollen flesh, feather-light. Her body arched into the touch on reflex, a broken sound bleeding from her throat.

"Shhh.” he soothed, even as his fingers delved deeper, parting her with clinical precision. "Your body knows what you won't admit."

The first deliberate stroke sent lightning up her spine. Her hips jerked. A moan clawed its way out-half agony, half something unspeakable.

“More… please. C—caleb.”

Caleb's eyes lit up from her acknowledgment. "There she is." He smiled all too pleased, circling her aching bundle of nerves with torturous patience. "My perfect girl. Dripping for me."

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the darkness only amplified the obscene sound of his fingers moving through her wetness.

"Uh uh. Open those eyes, baby." A command, not a request. "Watch what I do to you."

When she refused, he pinched her inner thigh-sharp enough to sting. Her eyelids flew open in time to see him bring glistening fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan.

Without warning he sealed his lips over her clit and suckling hard. White heat exploded behind her eyelids. Her thighs clamped around his head instantly, heels digging into his back as the first wave crashed over her. Caleb groaned against her, the vibration sending fresh spasms through her abdomen.

"C-Caleb—!" His name tore from her in a broken syllable, half protest, half plea. She whimpered, her nails scraping uselessly against the laminate as her thighs trembled. A hot, wet stripe along her slit, licking into her around his own fingers.

"Fuck, baby." His groan vibrated against her, filthy and reverent. "You’re even sweeter than I dreamed."

Y/n's back bowed off the desk, a shattered cry tearing from her lips as his mouth latched onto her clit again sucking with ruthless devotion. Her fingers, without conscious thought, tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

He reveled in it. The way her thighs trembled against his cheeks, the helpless little noises she couldn't keep down, he drank her down like a man starved, fingers pumping in time with his tongue, pistoning deeper into her gummy walls.

"That's it." he rasped between laps. "Let me hear you."

A scream built in her throat, morphing into a wanton moan as his fingers crooked just so, striking some hidden chord that sent white-hot pleasure searing through her veins. The orgasm hit hard, violent, devastating, tearing through her with such intensity that her vision whited out. For three terrifying heartbeats, she ceased to exist beyond the pulsating aftershocks wracking her ruined body.

Caleb didn't relent. His tongue worked her through the convulsions, eating up every twitch and tremor like a man starved. When she weakly tried to squirm away, the feeling becoming too much, body too sensitive, he gripped her thighs hard, pinning her in place.

"Shhh, shhh." he murmured against her quivering flesh, the vibration wringing another broken whimper from her lips.

He worked his fingers into nonstop, dragging out every last shuddering aftershock until she was limp, gasping, tears streaking her temples. When he finally pulled back, the obscene pop of his mouth leaving her skin echoed in the silent classroom.

He wiped his glistening chin with deliberate slowness, dark eyes locked on her ruined form-the flushed skin, the tear-streaked cheeks, the way her legs still trembled helplessly wide. His beautiful galaxy eyes sparkled with triumph.

"Perfect. You came so beautifully.” He breathed, pupils blown black with hunger. "But we're just getting started."

Caleb stood and began to unfasten his pants, the rasp of his belt buckle cut through the classroom's silence like a knife. He slid his pants down, freeing himself slowly, his arousal glistening with precum. When he pressed against her slit, the heaviness of it made her whimper as slid his cock between her folds, coating himself well.

Even drugged, her body instinctively tensed. Some conscious part of her recognized her predicament, understood how her that the weight of his cock was indicative of his well endowed size without even looking.

"Shhh." He soothed, kissing her trembling eyelids as he notched himself at her entrance. "I'll be gentle." A lie, he knew, as sweet as the poison.

The first breach was searing, a slow, agonizing stretch. He watched entranced, his dark eyes burning with a possessive fire, as her body stretched to accommodate him, inch by excruciating inch. Her choked gasp morphed into a shuddering moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers, locking their bodies together.

"Perfect." Caleb breathed, the word a hot puff against her ear. His thumb, surprisingly gentle, swiped at the tear tracking down her cheek, cool against her flushed, fevered skin. Her pussy fluttered around him, clenching and releasing rapidly as she tried to adjust to him. To his credit and his extreme restraint, he allowed her a moment to, despite the intense urge compelling him to fuck her like the starved beast that he is.

"Taking me so well. You’re body was made for this. Fated to take me."

Y/n’s lip trembled as she laid there. With one particularly hard clench, Caleb hips snapped forward involuntarily, stealing both their breaths.

“Fuck, baby. I need to move.”

And so he did. Slow, shallow thrusts at first, each one a calculated violation of her most intimate space, an invading pressure that consumed them. Her traitorous body, slick and willing, began to respond. his control fractured.

“Hn… Ah~” it was soft, barely a whisper, but he heard it. Soon those meek little noises came quicker, louder and he couldn’t hold back.

His pace picked up, turning punishing. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls of the classroom combining with their shared sounds of pleasure.

"You feel that?" He growled, his grip tightened, leaving stinging imprints on her hips. His teeth grazed her collarbone, a prickling sensation sending electricity through her body.

"Feel how perfectly we fit?" He pulled back slightly, then slammed back in, the impact made her bite lip. "This was always going to happen. It was destined."

“No matter the obstacles.” He groaned, fucking her hard, his cock digging into her soaked channel repeatedly. “No one could stop this, not your job, not the school, not even you.” He breathed out.

“Fuck, I’m close!” He was, but he needed her to climax first. He needed to feel her milking his length, to ensure her pussy molded to the exact shape of his cock, needed to ruin her completely. With that chilling thought, he lifted one of her legs, hooking it in his arm, and began to drill into her with renewed, brutal force.

Y/n cried out in shock and pleasure. The bulbous head of his cock rammed into her, battering her cervix with merciless, rhythmic force as he moved like a wild man. She gripped his biceps, her nails digging in for purchase on his taut skin. He fucked her so primally that she could no longer find her voice. All she could do was hold on-feel everything as the building pressure pooled, hot and urgent, in her abdomen.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Fuck you so full.”

Before she could even attempt to comprehend what he was saying, her climax hit. Her orgasm rocked her on a seismic level, a white-hot tremor. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body, each convulsion milking him deeper, drawing a sharp, surprised gasp from him.

Caleb's groan vibrated through her chest as he followed her over the edge, a thick, guttural sound, spilling hot, viscous ropes of his seed into her, whispering her name almost like a prayer. He emptied his load into her swollen hole, cursing at the way the aftershocks of release continued to grip him for a few agonizing moments longer.

Y/n sighed in content. Her drugged mind cleared a fraction, a brief, horrifying window of clarity, as her breath began to stabilize.

"You wereamazing." Caleb smiled down at her, brushing a few wet, clinging strands of hair from her face with a hand that now felt sickeningly gentle. She couldn't respond, not even sure what to say. He didn't mind; he was content watching her post-orgasm, glassy eyes, so beautiful, so needy.

His cock twitched inside her, still perfectly hard as if he hadn't just climaxed. She involuntarily tightened, squeezing him, a small, helpless whine escaping her lips. Caleb gasped, resting his head in the column between her neck and shoulder as he tried to regain his composure.

To no avail, he tightened his grip on her hips and began to roll his hips into hers, unable to resist the call of her body. Y/n protested, her hands flying to his chest, pushing pathetically with her diminished strength. She was too sensitive, only a moment had passed between the last orgasm before he started pumping into her again, each thrust a fresh jolt of agony and alien pleasure.

But he didn't stop.

“Shhh. Be good baby." He pecked her lips. “You can take me. Mmm~ You’re so good for me. You can take it.” He whispered to her in such a loving tone, sharply contrasting sinfully deep, hard pace he set. Her core was a sopping mess, allowing him to glide into her without the slightest resistance.

“Damn it. You feel so good.”

~🍎🍏~

After what felt like an eternity, Caleb finally stilled, his breathing ragged against her ear. He remained buried deep inside her, the heavy weight of him almost suffocating her. He had learned everything that made her gasp, cry out, shudder and beg for him. He committed the unique taste of her sweat against his tongue, her juices, over and over again until she couldn't remember where she ended and he began.

The classroom air grew heavy with the stale scent of their arousal. The only sounds were the distant thumping of the bass from the ongoing prom filtering through the door and their panting. He shifted, and she felt the slow, deliberate withdrawal, enjoying his last moments within her. Slick seeped out of her abused cunt, emptying onto the floor beneath her.

Caleb didn't move far, quickly gathering his phone and slipping into his pocket before he reached down, his fingers finding the scattered scraps of her dress and panties on the floor. With disturbing care, he began to redress her, his touch methodical, almost tender, as he pulled the fabric over her still-slick skin.

She was limp, unresponsive, her limbs heavy and unwilling to obey. He settled her back onto the desk, her skirt smoothed, her top pulled down. Presentable. Almost. He took a moment, his gaze lingering on the faint marks blooming on her neck and collarbone. A satisfied smile touched his lips.

"That's better." He murmured, his voice a low, satisfied hum. He leaned in, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Her eyes, still wide and glazed from the drug, flickered, a tiny spark of something, a nascent fury, trying to break through the haze. He saw it. His smile widened, a chilling triumph.

"Three things will happen now, Y/n." He whispered, each word a hammer blow of control, soft yet absolute.

"One: You'll walk back into that prom like nothing happened. You'll smile. You'll say goodbye to your colleagues." He paused, letting the silence stretch, letting the weight of his command settle over her.

"Two: At graduation next week, you'll give me a very special thank you card. In front of my parents." The audacity of it stole the air from her lungs, but no sound escaped.

"And three..." He leaned closer, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth in a chaste, possessive kiss. "When I come to your apartment tonight, you'll answer the door. And you'll be wearing nothing but that pearl necklace I've seen you wear to faculty meetings."

He pulled back, his eyes, dark and unwavering, holding hers. "Do we understand each other, Ms. L/n?"

A/N: I’ve been absolutely obsessed with EPIC: The musical. If you know, you know. 😊

[monzabee]

bee! smut/suggestive oscar headcanon please that vid you rebloged is making me feral 😫

f1 masterlist || oscar piastri x reader || +18, smut, mdni

okay wait why do i love this so much (also, i've never written headcanons before so please be kind):

so here it goes:

— to start things off kind of lightly, he might be a quiet guy, but this man is not shy. nope. not at all. like i feel like he is not shy to get creative (and freaky) in bed, and he is the literal embodiment of 'it's always the quiet ones'. he is also not afraid to try new things both of you might come across, which is certainly a big plus. — this man has a praise kink. like he full-on melts when you praise him. "you feel so good," "you’re so good to me," “no one else touches me like this”—his hands get firmer, and he starts moving faster, and he is all around rougher + bonus points if you say it while looking up at him or tugging on his hair. — i also think he would love to have you on his lap? like i don't necessarily think it's a possession thing (or is it?👀), but i feel like he would just love to have you on his lap in a casual dominance kind of a way. althoughhh, it may look innocent, at first, but his fingers always end up playing with the hem of your skirt or sliding between your thighs. — we all know oscar is not the most expressive guy in public (enter his post-race win/podium radio here), but i feel like he loves the idea of marking you—not necessarily in a place that might show like your neck or collarbones, but someplace where only he knows it is there, like your thighs or your chest. — speaking of thighs, oscar piastri is a thigh guy🫵 he loves your thighs. he loves to lay his head on them (and the scalp scratches that come with them), and he also loves to tease you by fucking them, instead of giving into what you want. i also think he would love the feeling of them being wrapped around his head when he is going down on you OR how they feel wrapped around his body when he is fucking you into the mattress. he isn't too fussy when it comes to which he loves the most. — we've all seen those mclaren videos of lando of him, and we all know he is the messy one... as he is in bed, of couse. i feel like he's not necessarily too pressed about being all that neat, and he does appreciate a bit of a mess—he's also especially a big fan of how fucked up you look after he's done getting his way with you (it means that 'he's done his job well', not my words, his).

+ plus

— he is painfully aware of the voice kink you have for him, and boy does he use it to his advantage! there’s something about his voice when he’s wrecked—low, rough, breathy moans that only come out when he’s close. hearing him curse softly in your ear? lethal. he doesn’t say a lot, but the noises he makes do stay in your head for days, and he is not afraid of being vocal.

[corkinavoid]

Case File: Nosy Neighbor

Stepping into the hallway of his apartment building, Tim realizes three things at once.

One, he looks like a wreck: hair disheveled from when he kept twirling the ends of it without thinking as he worked, blouse wrinkled, lipstick gone entirely from biting on his lips. Not to mention that he is carrying his heels in hand — he took them off in the Uber and didn't bother putting them on just to go up a floor.

Two, he completely forgot about his promise to move out first thing in the morning, a promise that he made because he didn't want to deal with Aggie's assumptions about his job. Mainly because he can't even disprove them — the sweet, nice old lady wouldn't believe a word he says, especially if he starts insisting she's wrong.

Three, he'd greatly underestimated the level of her thirst for juicy gossip, it seems.

Because here she is, Agatha Patel in all her glory, wearing an apron that's seen better days, a crocheted shawl, and fluffy slippers, holding Colonel Mustard (Tim has never seen an uglier dog in his life) in her arms. At 3 am, in the middle of a hallway.

Tim would have thought she's sleepwalking, if he didn't know better. That lady is here solely for the drama of it, even if it comes at a cost of Tim's misery.

For a minute or two, they both just stand there and stare at each other. Tim has no idea what Aggie is waiting for, but he is staying quiet in hopes of her surrendering and going back to her apartment. The chances of that are lower than the probability of good weather in Gotham, but hope dies last and all that.

Aggie's sharp, innocent eyes scan him like an x-ray.

"Rough night, dear?" She asks finally, in that trademark 'everything you say and anything you don't say can be used against you' tone that all meddling grandmothers use to start a conversation.

Tim sighs. Rough is sure one word to describe it, okay.

To hell with it, actually.

"Yeah," he smiles at the lady, making an effort to sound raspy and tired, "My boss's godson decided to join us midway."

Agatha's eyes widen just slightly. "Oh, my," she breathes out, shaking her head in disapproval. It doesn't fool Tim for one moment, but he is fully aware of what conclusions his neighbor draws; he worded it that way on purpose.

"You don't know the half of it, Aggie," he rolls his eyes in feigned exasperation and moves, making his way to his door. "At least he is my age, and easy on the eyes; my boss is just an old creep all over," he keeps talking, searching for the keys in his purse.

Not a single lie, technically: Danny is very much good-looking, and Vladimir is old and is a creep, his moral alignment aside.

He can't see Agatha, but he can absolutely feel the overwhelming curiosity coming from her in waves, like heat from a radiator.

"Goodness gracious," she says, sympathetic, as Tim finally unlocks his door.

"Just between you and me, Aggie," he turns around, winking at her, "I really hope that godson is single."

"Oh, good luck, Caroline dear," the lady wishes, and it actually sounds sincere. Tim smiles at her — he didn't expect that, but it does feel nice.

"Good night, Mrs. Patel," he says, and then waves his hand at her dog, "Good night, Colonel Mustard."

The dog licks its crooked teeth, watching him. Agatha nods, a pleased, weirdly caring smile on her wrinkly face, "Good night, Caroline."

Tim closes the door and slides down by the wall, holding back his giggling. The soundproofing in this building is atrocious, and he doesn't want Aggie to think he is playing her.

Especially because he's not, apparently.

–○–

This is a part of the 'Crime Scene Do Not Cross' fic and takes place after Chapter 2.

Agatha is nice, she's just bored out of her mind in her retirement and prefers live-action drama instead of soap operas. She also bakes absolutely killer quiches and pies and likes to give them out to her neighbors, seemingly at random. Unbeknownst to them, she is keeping a gossip record on all of them and gives her baked goods only to those who score top ten monthly.

Tim is about to get a pecan pie that he'll beg Agatha to give him a recipe for, just so he can ask Alfred to make it again.

[whambamsami]

say please

summary: you weren't supposed to be in this position. especially not with bucky barnes. but now you're burning, and he's on the other side of the door. silent. fighting himself with every breath. he does his best to stay away, until you say his name.

warnings: 18+, swearing, smut, lowkey a little dubcon, be warned! (also mild breeding and praise stuff LMAO)

note: i haven't written anything in so long!!! been dealing with a breakup haha so this is my attempt at a sex pollen fic!!! i don't love the pacing of this, but i've been obsessed with this trope so i wanted to try my hand :) also not proof read! lmk if there's any typos/plot holes!

The air inside was damp and stale. Thick with dust and the scent of old metal. 

“Smells like your room in here,” you muttered, doing your best to distract yourself from the feeling that you’re being watched.

“Cute,” Bucky says dryly, “Just stick close. Try not to get us killed.”

He always did that. Undermined you. Spoke like you didn’t know what you were doing, like you hadn’t wiped the floor with him in hand-to-hand combat since you’d met him. Like you didn’t have the training, the experience, like you didn’t know exactly what the fuck you were doing. 

But you were in an old, abandoned HYDRA base, which you could only assume wasn’t exactly  Bucky’s ideal trip down memory lane. So you clenched your jaw and continued with your scanning.  

You both crept through the ruined hallway, weapons drawn. The flickering of the overhead lights had you gripping your pistol tighter than you’d care to admit. 

The hallway stretched before you. Cracked tile, wires dangling from the ceiling, that same mildew-esque air that made you gag.

“Jesus, they couldn’t afford an interior decorator?” 

It was like you could see him rolling his eyes from behind. 

“They’re war criminals, not the Property Brothers,” he hissed over his shoulder.

“Wow, you know who the Property Brothers are?”

“Just-”, and you’d gotten him riled up enough that he was speaking the tiniest bit louder than he should’ve been, “just stick close, okay?”

“I always stick close,” you muttered, “you’re the one who always runs in like you have something to prove.”

He glanced back at you, lips twitching. “Maybe I do.”

You rolled your eyes. 

But your pulse quickened. 

You hated how much you liked him like this. Snarky. Cocky. Almost… attentive. 

That stupid leather harness, the one that had been added to give him easy access to an extra pistol, that stretched across his broad chest wasn’t really helping either. 

Neither did the way that his eyes met yours in the dark. Like he could hear every mortifying thought he drew out of your traitorous mind. 

As much as he annoyed you, as much as you sniped and bantered and pushed each other, you were partners. There was no one in the world you trusted more in the field. 

That’s why it was so terrifying when you were separated. 

Bucky must’ve tripped a security system, because before either of you could react- 

Clang.

A metal panel dropped, splitting the hall in two. 

And Bucky was gone. 

You hear gears grinding against each other, a pop, a hiss from just above you, and you look up just in time to see something drop from the ceiling. A canister, maybe. 

Gas erupts in front of you, a pale green mist that you breathe in before you can even register what’s happened.

“Shit!”, you gasp, but it’s too late, “Bucky, I breathed in something-”

He was pounding on the metal, screaming your name with more fear in his voice than you’d have ever heard. 

But you didn’t hear him.

Not before everything went black. 

You woke up strapped to a cold chair, wrists and ankles aching against the restraint to no avail, a ball of loose white fabric stuffed so far in your mouth you couldn’t even cry for help. 

Two men dressed in lab coats were standing in front of you, sickly pale like they hadn’t been outside in ages. HYDRA, presumably. The look in their sunken eyes was eccentric, crazed. They were pacing in front of you nervously, murmuring to each other in a language you didn’t understand. German, maybe. 

“...zu hübsch, um es einfach zu töten…” you caught from the taller of the two as they inched closer to you. 

The other, shorter man nodded. “Soll sie zuerst für uns tanzen?”

The first man smiled wickedly, reaching into the pocket of his lab coat, pulling out a syringe filled with a pinkish-purple liquid. He stepped close enough that you could smell his breath, see his yellowed snarl, and flicked the needle as he approached.

He fucking reeked. 

You surged against your restraints, crying out despite your makeshift muzzle. You wanted it, wanted him, nowhere near you.

But you didn’t have much of a choice.  

Ignoring your screams and your desperate attempts to pull away, the man stuck the needle in your neck and pushed, injecting whatever was in that vial directly into your bloodstream. 

You couldn’t fight back, could barely move. It was too late. Whatever HYDRA concoction they’d used on you was already in you. You were probably as good as dead.

But he was close enough. 

So the second he removed that needle, you clenched your jaw to protect your teeth, reared back, and headbutted him as hard as you could. 

You felt the crunch before you heard it. 

The man, if you could call him that, reeled back with a grunt, hand flying to his nose as blood burst through his fingers. 

“Scheiße!” he managed, stumbling back, crashing into a tray of medical instruments that clattered to the floor.

The other man moved toward you in a blur, striking you hard across the face.

Not hard enough to wipe the defiant smile that you wore through the cloth that gagged you. 

“You’ll regret that,” he seethed, voice thickened with whatever accent he had, “You’ll regret that when you’re begging for anything from us-” 

He cut himself off. Looked down. And looked back up at you, disbelief in his eyes like you had anything to do with the red that bloomed through the stark white of his lab coat, bleeding through his stomach. His knees folded in, dropping his body limp to the floor. 

The other man didn’t have time to turn before he met the same fate, lifeless and forgotten on the ground. 

Bucky stood before you, panting, in front of the now-open door, gun still smoking in his vibranium hand. 

He walked past you and pointed his gun at the back of the first man, the one who had injected you with something, and shot once, twice, thrice. For good measure. 

Blood sprayed on the floor. Silence settled in, the only noise in the room was your ragged breath. 

He finally turned to face you.

“Doll”, he murmured. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. Raw. Almost panicked. 

He dropped to his knees by the chair, eyes raking over you as he made quick work of your restraints. 

The welt on your cheek made him pause. 

“I’m so sorry, I- “ his hands were trembling, and you weren’t sure if it was from sheer rage or sheer terror, “what did they do to you?”

The moment your wrists were free, you collapsed forward into his chest, clutching that vest like it was a lifeline before you could stop yourself. 

“I don’t-” you try, pushing off of him gently, “I don’t know what they gave me”, and your body is slowly starting to betray you, shaking all over, “Bucky, what is this?” 

His eyes darted over you, seeing the way your limbs had begun to weaken, and started to look around the room. 

The two HYDRA men, bodies strewn on the floor. The empty syringe. The residue of something pinkish-purple still inside.

His blood ran cold. 

You felt him tense up in front of you, saw him suck in a breath, like he wouldn’t let himself believe whatever he’d started to piece together. 

“Bucky…?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. 

“I’ve seen this before. And we need to get out of here. Now.”

He knew what came next. The way it tore through a person’s body like a match to gasoline. And the way that you were already clinging to him, thighs twitching, chest heaving- 

It was already taking hold.

He had you in his arms before you could protest.

You didn’t even try to. Couldn’t. Your body felt like it was overheating, aching with a need that wasn’t yours, wasn’t fair, wasn’t natural. 

Bucky moved fast, cradling you to his chest like you were something delicate, something fragile, not like the battle-hardened woman you’d become over time.

You heard more bodies drop. His boots on the tile. Felt the sunlight on your too-warm body as Bucky cleared whatever dared get in his way. 

But all you could think about was the way your thighs kept pressing together, the way your nipples had pebbled, aching against the fabric of your suit. The way his scent enveloped you, something woodsy, with leather and whiskey, and a bit of mint. 

“Almost there,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You buried your face in his neck. 

It didn’t help. 

A small cabin, off the grid. Emergency lights only. Quiet.

You barely remember getting to the safehouse, just the hum of the quinjet, the heat still in your skin.

The last time Bucky had spoken, it was on the quinjet, and it wasn’t even to you. He’d radioed in, murmuring “She’s been drugged. I need an extraction kit and a sterile space. No contact. No questions.”  

He spoke like you couldn’t hear him. Like his voice wasn’t the only thing in your mind, the only sound that was permeating the haze that clouded your brain. 

When you’d gotten into the cabin, he’d laid you down on the worn-out couch. 

The lack of contact with Bucky’s body felt like it physically hurt.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hands in his hair, pacing now, “Fuck, fuck, this shouldn’t have happened, not to you, not now-”

“Bucky…” your voice is shaky now, “What the fuck is happening to me?”

He couldn’t stop pacing. Wouldn’t look you in the eye.

You hated that it hurt, that you wanted him to look at you. Why did you want him to look at you so bad?

“Okay,” and finally, he pauses his pacing, “You deserve to know what this is.”

You look up, desperate to catch his gaze in yours. 

He crouched, so you were eye level. His voice was low, but steady, like he had to remove every bit of emotion from his words.

“It’s a…” and he exhales, like he’s forcing himself to finish his sentence, “It’s a heat serum. HYDRA used it on captives, on…me. Some kind of sick breeding attempt.” 

He looks away for just a moment. Even though it hurts, you let him, before he continues.

“It makes you desperate for contact. Floods your body with hormones. Dopamine, oxytocin, pheromones- it’s like the most intense aphrodisiac you could imagine. It forces your system into a cycle of arousal and pain. If you don’t get relief, it doesn’t just hurt. It can cause nerve damage, organ stress, seizures” and he swallows, “in some cases, death.”

You would laugh. You would laugh if you couldn’t feel every nerve in your body screaming for something, anything. Anything from him.

So you settled for balling your hands up into fists, stopping yourself from grabbing him, and taking, taking, taking- 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper.

He looks at you like he was terrified of touching you, of making it worse. Like he didn’t know he was the only man who could save you. 

“I’m going to give you space,” he says softly, and you wanted to scream, “I’m going to do everything I can on my end to find a cure. I’ll call Tony, Bruce, I’ll exhaust every resource we have. I’ll stay outside this room. You try to manage it. Breathing. If you want to… touch yourself… you can. If that helps.”

Your cheeks flush even pinker, if that’s possible. 

“If- if you need me for anything,” his voice cracked.

“Just say my name.”

You force yourself to nod. Let him close the door behind him, even though it feels like he’s taking all the oxygen in the room with him. 

You tried. 

God, you tried. 

You stripped out of your suit as silently as you could, laid flat on the bed, limbs shaking. 

The sheets felt too rough. The air was too heavy. Not heavy enough. You couldn’t tell.

Every inch of you throbbed with need. It felt like your blood was on fire. 

It wasn’t just need, not like you’ve ever experienced it. It was like your body was starving. 

Your hand slipped between your thighs, and you gasped at just how wet you already were. 

But when you touched yourself, when you circled your clit, when you did more, it didn't work. Nothing worked. 

Your body would clench around nothing, unsatisfied. Empty. 

It didn’t help that the physical embodiment of your antidote was just downstairs. 

The serum was absolutely ravaging your body. No matter how many times you could get yourself there, it wasn’t yielding. If anything, it worsened every minute you were without touch. 

Without his touch. 

You felt pathetic. Like an animal in heat. 

You were a complete slave to the serum, and Bucky was here to witness your humiliation.

He could hear you. 

You knew he could hear you. His supersoldier serum ensured that he could pick up on every pitiful noise you tried to silence. 

He was sitting, back to the wall outside the bedroom, palms flat on the floor. He’d reached out to Tony, to Bruce, and the solutions were all the same. 

He’d already known that. Known that reaching out was in false hope that he wouldn’t have to do what he knew he must. 

What he swore he would never do to you. Take from you.

He heard everything. 

The creak of the bed. 

Your soft, frustrated whimpers. One choked sob. His name. Once. Barely audible.

He’d dreamed of you saying it so many times. It was better than he’d imagined, so much better.

But he couldn’t focus on any of that. He was disgusted with himself, horrified at his body’s reactions to the noises you couldn’t help but let slip. The way you couldn’t help but touch yourself, the way you had to give in to HYDRA’s puppeteering. 

He wanted you. More than he’d ever wanted you over the past year, and trust him, that was saying something.

And he hated himself for it. 

He was in love with you. Of course he was. He had been for months. The way you made him laugh. The way you challenged him. The way you always had his six without question.

But you’d never want him. Not like this.

And even if you thought you did, it wasn’t real. Not under this serum. Not when it came with pain and desperation.

This was not the need that he’d spent countless nights fantasizing that you’d have for him. 

He’d rather die than make you feel used.

Even if it killed him not to touch you.

Even if he wanted you so bad it burned.

He was starting to wonder if he’d been slipped some of the serum, too.

You were still in the room. Still unsatisfied. Still empty.

You’d touched yourself until your fingers were sore. Until you were sobbing on the mattress, serum coiling deep in your stomach, a call you couldn’t answer.

Not alone.

It wasn’t enough. 

You needed him. You thought of his hands, rough and warm. His voice, his blue eyes, his rare smile. 

You wanted him. 

Not just because of the serum.

You always had. 

The serum just dug up those buried urges and forced them into your mouth.

You felt like your entire body was a live wire. Like you were being ripped open. You knew he was just behind the door, could practically feel his body heat from here, 

You knew he would help you, if you asked. 

That almost made it worse. That it would be real to you, and to him, it’d be mercy. You’d be a means to an end to Bucky.

You closed your eyes.

Whimpered again.

You didn’t want to be a task. A pity fuck. A problem he needed to solve before it killed you.

You wanted to be wanted.

Your hands slid between your thighs again, useless and shaking. It still wasn’t enough. Your body was screaming, throbbing, wet and desperate for something more. For someone.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood. Tried not to cry again.

Don’t say his name. Don’t say it unless you’re ready to mean it. Don’t say it if it won’t mean anything back.

You curled in tighter.

But your body had its own voice now. A louder one.

And when the next wave hit, sharp and devastating, you broke.

“Bucky.”

It came out like a confession. 

The door opened so fast it startled you. 

He stood there, eyes burning. 

Bucky didn’t look calm anymore.

He looked like a man unraveling, like he felt every single feeling that you felt. 

He moved before you could breathe again. 

“I heard you,” and his voice was hushed, like he thought raising his voice could shatter you, “You said my name.”

You whimpered, nodding pathetically, a weak hand reaching out to him. You didn’t, couldn’t care that you were entirely bare before him. The serum had peeled you raw. 

His eyes dropped to your naked, shaking figure, and his whole body tensed. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, “You’re…”

He stopped. Like he was catching himself before saying something he shouldn’t, something he wasn’t allowed to. 

“You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

“I need you,” you whispered, not caring about how pitiful you surely looked.

His eyes snapped to yours.

“I want to,” he said, almost brokenly, “God, I want to. You have no idea how bad I want this, want you.”

“Touch me,” and you were pleading now, inching closer to him, “Please.”

He took a step toward you. Then he stopped.

“Not unless you’re sure. Not unless it’s really me you want. Not the serum.”

His hands were clenched, like he was holding himself back. 

“It is.” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the serum?”

“Yes,” you weakly pushed yourself up on your elbows, voice shaking, “I wanted you before this, Bucky, I did, for so long, but now I feel like I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me, and I need you-”

He crossed the room before you could finish. And finally, he cut you off with a searing kiss.

You couldn’t count the times you’d tried to force your body to comply with your fingers, to just let you finish after you’d been trying for what felt like days.

Bucky’s lips on yours felt indescribably better. 

He was on his knees in front of you, his vibranium hand tangled gently in your hair, the other arm wrapped around your waist, holding your exhausted body up.

He tasted like mint, like liquor, like something you couldn’t give a fuck about because he was kissing you-

Bucky pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. 

You hated the way you wanted to cry at the loss of contact.

“If you tell me to stop,” and you could feel his warm breath on your lips, could still taste him, “I will. Even now. Even if it kills me.”

“I won’t,” you promised, hands cupping his face, fighting your need to force him back into a kiss as much as you could, but you knew he could smell how bad you needed this.

You thanked God when he kissed you again.

Hungrier, this time. The both of you. His hands were everywhere on you. His flesh hand pressed your hips into him as he climbed on top of you, the metal of his left hand grazing your stomach as it made its way up to cup your breast. The coolness of the vibranium on your feverish body made you gasp into him. You swear you could feel him smile against your lips before he slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting his thumb sweep across your pebbled nipple as he rolled his clothed hips expertly into yours. 

You clutched his shirt, pulling him in deeper, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him back into you, making the both of you whine. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured against your lips before working his way to your neck, licking and nipping softly like he wanted to know exactly how to pull those noises out of you, “Let me help you. Let me make you feel good, yeah? You gonna let me?”

You didn’t answer, hands tugging the bottom of his shirt up, mouth wide as you exposed more of his body to your greedy eyes. 

He pulled back just for a second to relieve himself of his clothes, and the feeling of his skin against yours was dizzying when he lowered himself back onto you, letting his weight pin you down as the mattress creaked beneath him. 

His hands were on you, sliding down your waist, anchoring you, holding you like he was starving. He pushed you back against the pillows slowly, watching you like you were sacred, like you’d disappear if he blinked too hard.

“You’re burning up,” he whispered, brushing sweaty hair from your face. “You poor thing.”

“Bucky, please-”

“I’ve got you now,” he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, your throat, the curve of your collarbone. “Not gonna let you hurt anymore.”

You gasped when his lips closed around your nipple-hot, gentle, then rough when he sucked. Your back arched. Your thighs squeezed around his hips.

He groaned. “So fucking sweet.”

His hands slid lower, down your ribs, across your hips, to your thighs. He spread you open slowly, reverently, even as your body shuddered beneath him.

“Oh my God-” he hissed, staring at you.

You were absolutely soaked. Could feel yourself running down your thighs, spilling onto the bed.

“Bucky, I-” You couldn’t finish. Couldn’t form words with the way you were throbbing, clenching around nothing.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, thumb stroking your inner thigh. “I know, you’re so full of it, huh? You need someone to take care of you.”

He pressed his forehead to your stomach. “I’ll take care of you.”

And then his hand was on you, fingers sliding through your slick, his touch so careful, so maddeningly slow.

You whimpered, hips bucking.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, teasing your clit with slow, delicious circles. “Let me learn you.”

You gasped his name when he slid one thick finger inside you.

“Jesus,” he rasped, watching your body arch,“So fucking tight. You’re clenching so hard for me.”

“More,” you begged, “Please, Bucky-more.”

“Look at you,” he groaned, adding a second finger,“You were made for me.”

He fucked you with his fingers until you were crying, leaving soft kisses on your puffy clit until until your thighs were shaking and you were clutching his wrist and sobbing his name like a prayer.

But it wasn’t enough. 

You needed more.

And he felt it.

“What do you need, sweetheart? and he nipped at your inner thigh to make you hiss before leaving a kiss on your knee, “Let me help you, yeah?”

“You,” you sobbed, “Please”

He sucked your clit in one last time before he leaned back on his heels, gazing down at you like you were on display just for him.

You moaned at the sight of him.

He knelt between your quivering legs, lining himself up, his cock thick and heavy, weeping and dark with need.

“You tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs.

You nod, knowing nothing from him will ever be too much.

“Say it,” and he sounds just as desperate as you feel, “Please, I need to hear you say it.”

“I will,” and your voice is absolutely wrecked.

That was all he needed.

He pushed in.

The stretch made you cry out. 

Not from pain. From relief. Your body was finally getting what it needed. What it had begged for.

Bucky groaned low, forehead dropping to your shoulder.”

“Fuck, so tight-” he panted, “So fucking wet, so warm-”

You’re whining beneath him, ankles locked behind his hips, nails digging into his back. 

“Please.”

He looked at you like you hung the stars.

Then he started to move.

He started slow. 

It didn’t last. 

The second you moaned, high and broken and so desperate, he snapped.

His thrusts went hard. Deep. His fingers curled around your thighs, dragging you closer, pulling you apart, angling just how he needed, until every stroke had you crying out into his neck. 

You were pulsing so tight around him he could barely breathe.

“Fuck-” he growled into your skin, teeth grazing your throat, “You’re- Jesus, you’re perfect- taking all of me so fuckin’ good-”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

All you could do was feel. The weight of him over you. The stretch, the pulse of him inside of you. The heat rolling off of both of you. The roar in your blood.

Every time he pulled back and slammed into you again, your body lit up like fire. You clung to him, heels dragging him deeper.

He groaned. Raw and wrecked. Like it was killing him. Like he needed it more than you did.

“You feel too fuckin’ good- too fuckin’ tight around me-”

You sobbed his name, head falling back against the pillows.

He chased every sound you made. 

One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb rubbing rough circles over your clit.”

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” he purred, “Come on, show me how bad you need it, don’t you need it, baby?”

Your whole body tensed. 

You shattered. 

Your orgasm hit so hard it knocked the breath out of you. 

Everything you’d been working your body toward for the last few hours peaked.

You screamed his name, arching into his touch, walls fluttering around his cock in hot frantic pulses.

And that was it for him. 

“Oh, fuck-”, he moaned, hips speeding up even more.

“Gonna fill you up, yeah? You gonna let me fill this pretty pussy up, sweet girl?”

He eased a thumb past your parted lips, forcing your hazy eyes to look at him as you sucked.

“You gonna let me? You want me to, don’t you? You want me to pump you full?” he cooed, and you weren't sure if you nodded on your own accord or if he used his thumb to ease your head up and down.

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice thick and low as sin, “You gonna let me do that, sweetheart? Let me fill you up nice and deep?”

His thumb brushed under your chin, tilting your slack, blissed-out face up to meet his.

“You want that, don’t you? Want me to pump you so full you feel me for days?”

You whimpered, helpless, your body barely moving except where he moved it, his hands guiding you up and down his cock like you were nothing but pliant heat and want.

“Good girl,” he purred, and his grip tightened just a little, possessive and reverent all at once. “You don’t even have to answer- I can feel how bad you need it.”

His vibranium hand moved to rest on your lower stomach, and you felt him even more than before.

“You feel that?” he groaned, breath stuttering, dragging you down onto him so slow and deep you could feel every inch of him stretching you open, “That’s me. All of me, sittin’ so fucking deep inside you- fuck, baby…”

You choked on a moan, barely holding your eyes open, muscles trembling, brain gone fuzzy from how full you felt.

“Look at you,” he rasped, rocking his hips up into you, sharp and controlled, “So fucking perfect. So tight and wet around me. You’re taking me so good, like this pussy was made for me.”

He gripped your hips tighter, pulling you down harder. “God, you were made for me, huh? You feel it too. I know you do.”

“Bucky-” you gasped, eyes rolling as his cock brushed that devastating spot inside you.

“Shhh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw, still fucking up into you, slow but relentless, “I’ve got you. You just take it, sweetheart. Let me give it to you.”

His hand slid between your legs, thumb rubbing circles over your clit. Fast. Focused. Filthy.

You cried out, body jerking, the pleasure coming too fast, too sharp.

“There she is,” he breathed, voice hungry. “You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you? Gonna come all over my cock while I fill you up-fuck, yeah, that’s it-”

“Please,” you whimpered, brain gone, body twitching under him.

“You want it?” he growled, holding you flush to him now, one hand behind your back, the other rubbing your clit like he owned you. “Want me to stuff you full? Fill this perfect pussy until you can’t think straight?”

You sobbed.

“Beg for it, baby,” he said darkly, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me you want me to breed you. Tell me you want to be mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, desperate, shaking, not even sure what you were begging for anymore, “Yours, please, Bucky, please-”

He let out a guttural sound.

Then he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and came with a groan so raw it made you clench around him like a vice.

“Fuck- take it-take all of it-”

Hot, thick pulses spilled into you, flooding your core, his hands holding you tight as you cried out and came again, your body milking every drop of him like you never wanted it to end, so much of him that you overflowed, could feel it seeping out of you.

You collapsed against him, boneless. Spent. Whimpering through the aftershocks.

And still, he held you. Stroking your back, whispering into your skin.

“You did so good for me, baby…So fuckin’ good. So beautiful. Mine.”

ok all done! just absolutely horrifying that im posting this on fathers day huh LMAO

[scarletmika]

Kiss Cam : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: The San Diego Padres are saluting the U.S. Navy during their upcoming game, and the Dagger Squad has been invited to attend. Hangman's only goal for the game? Get you and Bob to finally act on your feelings and confess to each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume), fluff, friends to lovers, pining, language, female reader, language, maybe some incorrect descriptions of the Navy, suggestive and steamy but no smut, some suggestive and steamy PDA that's borderline not appropriate for public spaces, Padres don't do a kiss cam but lets pretend, I'm a Pirates fan (please pity me) so maybe some incorrect descriptions of Padres games and Petco Park and San Diego

Word Count: 12,368 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“There’s something about a Padres jersey that has our own last names on the back that’s kind of really cool,”

You’d shot Natasha an eye roll from across the room, catching the specially made Padres jersey with your last name stitched into the back when she’d tossed it your way. In turn, you’d grabbed the one lying on your bed, ‘Trace’ stitched into the back, and tossed it over to where she sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor. You tugged your tank top down over the pink, lacy floral bra you wore before plopping down on your bed with your jersey in hand.

“Is it bad that I kind of hate them?” Nat raised her eyebrow as you held out your jersey in front of you, examining the dark brown fabric and gold stripes, before laying it down on the bed next to you. “Not the jersey itself, but that it has our names. Kind of wanted to wear my Bogaerts jersey to the game.”

Nat hummed, dragging herself off the floor and throwing herself down on the bed beside you. You cast a glance down at her, just to see a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Dying to wear Bogaerts’s name on your back-”

“Please, Phoenix, we all know she’s dying to wear the last name ‘Floyd’ on her jersey,”

Hangman’s unexpected voice was not a welcome one, as he came strolling into your bedroom to lean against the doorframe with that signature smirk of his. His presence only garnered a groan out of you as Nat sat up, laughing at the comment.

“Right, almost forgot about her undying love for our teammate-”

“I don’t remember saying you could come in,” you interjected, sending Jake a pointed look, ignoring Natasha’s comment the best you could with red creeping up your neck. His grin only widened as he lifted his hand, dangling his truck keys in the air with a little shake.

“Perks of having the spare key to the ladies’ apartment. Your fault, you entrusted me with it. Best friend perks, and whatnot,” he waved his hand dismissively, before giving you a pointed look in return to your own. “I’m also your five-minute warning that the Bradshaw Bronco just picked up the pizza and beer for lunch and should be here soon, since neither of you likes checking the groupchat. Sometimes I wonder if you two have muted it.”

“I’m terrified that they somehow shoved Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in the back of that thing,” Natasha chimed in with a fake shiver, shooting Hangman a sly middle finger for his groupchat comment. Her actions made you laugh, nudging her shoulder with your own.

“True, those three are the most brutal during dogfight football. Lord knows what happens when they're in close proximity to each other-”

“Ladies, we have more pressing things to discuss!” Hangman interrupted, clapping his hands as he stepped toward the bed, standing directly before the edge with his hands resting on his hips. That alone had you and Nat sharing a look of amusement, but Jake Seresin was all business. “I’m determined to take ‘Operation Peob’ to the next level tonight…and by next level, I mean get you, our little flower, laid.”

You weren’t entirely sure if your brain was short-circuiting or if you’d actually heard your best friend right. Truly, though, knowing Jake as long as you had, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been speaking total nonsense. Judging by the pained groan that Nat let out at your side, you knew you’d heard him right.

“Operation Peob-?”

“It’s his stupid 1000-step plan to get you and Bob to fess up that’s not working,” Nat explained with a shake of her head. “He’s been at it for months. I’ve helped, obviously, because I’m sick of seeing you two pining after one another, but the mashup of ‘Peony’ and ‘Bob’ is just terrible.”

“That time we invited you guys out for drinks, but we both canceled last second, so it was just you and Bob? My plan,” Hangman grabbed your desk chair, wheeling it over in front of the bed to sit backwards on it, that shit-eating grin on his face that you just wanted to smack off. “Or when I started that childish game of seven minutes in heaven to lock you guys in a closet? Or when I blamed that screwed up pre-flight checklist on you and Bob so you’d be held later together-”

“I’m sorry, you did what-?”

“Point is,” Jake quickly interjected, cutting you off midsentence. “I’ve tried every single trick in the book, everything I could think of, and you two are dense. Hell, it’s like trying to talk to two brick walls, you refuse to act on shit! So, I’ve got a foolproof plan in line tonight, even Nat thought it was a good idea.”

“True, might be his best one yet,”

You looked between them as they both looked at you expectantly. Natasha Trace, your best friend and roommate, one of your closest confidants. Jake Seresin, your childhood best friend, whom you, for some reason, followed straight into the Navy because you couldn’t bear to be without him. Two people you adored more than life…who sounded certifiably insane right now.

“Guys, I’m not in love with Bob-”

“You are,” they both cut in simultaneously.

There was no reason to argue. These two people knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, so of course they’d picked up on it.

Robert “Bob” Floyd, the bane of your existence. Not really, because you knew if he wasn’t in your life, you’d probably spend your entire life somehow searching for him. Your other best friend, who had somehow claimed that title in the few short weeks leading up to that Uranium mission. The man who, when you started sobbing as you held him in the hospital hours after the bird-strike during training, you realized you were falling head over heels in love with. 

But that was months ago, before your special detachment became a permanent squadron in San Diego. You weren’t falling anymore, you were in love, and if you had to watch him do another round of push-ups during Maverick’s drills while his arms strained and sweat in the California heat, you were going to, quite literally, gnaw the bars off the enclosure you’d closed yourself into in your mind.

“It’s not my fault he’s so hot in such a fucking nonchalant way,” Nat and Jake laughed the second you dramatically threw yourself backward on your bed. “Seriously! Sure, he stutters when he’s nervous, and he’s got those stupidly cute glasses, but Jesus Christ, if he’s not the most adorable man. But, then you, Hangman, manage to piss him off and he gets this-this fucking air of slight confidence around him, he gets so quick and witty with his comments and I’m, like, two seconds from climbing his tall, slender ass like a fucking tree.”

Word-vomit, but you didn’t care. There was no use lying anymore. Jake and Natasha were silent for only a moment before Nat’s laughter finally managed to escape her.

“Wow, you have it worse for Floyd than I thought you did!”

“I seriously don’t even think he realizes how hot he is,” you shouted, completely exasperated as you threw your arms out toward the ceiling. “He thinks girls don’t pay him any attention, meanwhile I feel like a total ass the way I’m eyeing him like a piece of meat everytime his shirt rides up on the beach. Then–the worst part–he’s out here holding doors for me, brought me a bouquet of flowers for my birthday, texts me good night and good morning every day–a thing that COUPLES DO–even makes sure he walks on the outside of the sidewalk when we’re all in downtown. He’s, quite literally, driving me insane because he’s the definition of the perfect man. As if he crawled straight out of my childhood diary.”

No one else could get a word in before the doorbell rang, and you froze. Natasha laughed again, grabbing onto your arms and tugging you back into a seated position on the bed before climbing off of it herself. Jake had already put your desk chair back across the room and was halfway to the door before he shot you a wink over his shoulder.

“No, you’re driving yourself insane by not just jumping the man’s bones, given that he’s clearly just as obsessed with you as you are with him. But have no fear. Trust in Phoenix and me, and Operation Peob will go just perfectly tonight-”

Nat gave him a shove to the back, pushing him out of your bedroom.

“Give her a damn minute, I think she’s still processing the fact that she just finally owned up to her crush. Just go get the door…and think of a new name for this dumb operation of ours on the way there, too,”

They were gone in seconds, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Rooster announcing himself the second they opened the front door. You? You were stuck in place, thinking back over all of those moments Jake (and subsequently Natasha) had thrust you into over the last few months.

That dinner hadn’t been awkward in the slightest with just you and Bob. Honestly, you’d stayed there for upwards of four hours just talking and laughing about anything and everything like you usually did. He’d let you drink, picked up the bill without letting you even reach for your purse, and drove you home. That childish seven minutes in heaven game wasn’t even awkward. They’d shoved you both into a hallway closet in Rooster’s apartment, you’d wrapped Bob in a hug, and just laughed about your friends' antics in the dark of the closet. No one was even surprised to see you wrapped around one another when the door finally opened: the second Bob had gotten comfortable around you, the pair of you were attached at the hip like that all the time.

You loved him, but you could never tell where he was at when it came to your blurry relationship, so you always danced on the edge of wanting to say something and biting your tongue. But if Hangman was this insistent, could he see something you couldn’t? Did he know something you didn’t?

“Any chance I could get some help with these pizzas?”

And suddenly, there he stood. Tall, lean, sandy blonde hair still perfectly swept to the side on top of his head, balancing three boxes of pizza in his hands, along with the box of garlic bread and mozzarella sticks (a special request from you). Your eyes betrayed you, straying from his face and down his body. 

Shorts, an item you didn’t get to see quite often on him, but man, did he look good in them. A white t-shirt that clung to him just enough to drive you insane, his dog tags lying directly in the center of his chest. Overtop of that was his own personally designed Padres jersey, gifted to the entire team for Navy appreciation night at the ballpark, but unbuttoned in the front so that it lay at his sides…and, god, were you having thoughts about running your hand down his chest and over those abs you knew he was hiding-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you glanced back up to meet Bob’s eyes and caught sight of the blush clearly embedded into his skin, and shot out of bed.

“Jesus, Bob, were they not going to help you at all?” you asked incredulously, taking two of the boxes from him as you tried to rid yourself of the inappropriate thoughts you were having of your best friend. He only laughed, shaking his head at your question.

“I mean, they at least took the beers,”

“Of course they did,” that comment got another laugh out of him. Easily, you joined in on the laughter, kicking his shin lightly. “Let’s go, dork, you know where the kitchen is.”

Like it usually was once a week, you and Natasha’s Southcrest apartment were overrun by the loud sounds of the men you called family, your squad, all gathered in the living room. This time, it wasn’t for game night or movie night, but instead in preparation for the San Diego Padres game later that afternoon, one the organization had personally invited your squadron to be recognized at for their Navy appreciation night at the ballpark. An opportunity to stand on the field during the pre-game festivities, the chance to watch Maverick throw the first pitch, lower-level seating on the third baseline, and your own custom Padres jerseys to wear to the game. A sweet deal, all around, that your squad was more than happy to accept.

“So, a baseball game,” Bob managed to speak, standing at your side in your tiny galley kitchen that two people could barely fit in. You were taking boxes from his hands, laying them out on the small bit of counter space you did have. “I-Is this a bad time to say…I’ve never been to a baseball game?”

“Never?” you questioned him, raising an eyebrow at him as you took the final pizza box from his arms. You couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know Montana doesn’t really have a team, unless you just root for the Rockies, but you never went during basic? Not a White Sox game, or a Cubs game?”

“Nope,” Bob accentuated his word with a little pop of his mouth, leaning back against the sink behind you while you squeezed past him, grabbing the plastic plates you and Nat had picked up for today the last time you went grocery shopping. “I’m relying on you to show me the ropes.”

“Depends what I have to work with here, baby-on-board,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a gleam in your eye as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “You know anything about the game at all, or did you really grow up under a rock?”

With everything laid out, you flipped around, leaning back against the counter behind you with Bob directly across from you. A mistake, in that tiny galley kitchen, the lack of space making the position feel more intimate than it needed to be. Bob’s legs seemed to instinctively spread slightly without a word, allowing you to stretch out your own between them.

“If you’re in the field, don’t let the other team score. If you’re hitting…score,” Bob smiled as you laughed at his explanation. “Pretty basic stuff, but I get the gist of it, Peony.”

“Yeah, it’s a very basic understanding of the fundementals, but I can work with it,” you assured him with a grin of your own, catching your eyes flicking down for just a moment to those dog tags resting against that white shirt that had no reason to look as hot as it did on him. “Should take you home with me sometime to a Rangers game, that’s where I really shine. And it's how I ended up with my callsign-”

“Your favorite flower,” Bob chimed in immediately before you could finish your sentence, your eyes catching on the way his Adam’s apple throbbed for just a moment after he said it, his eyes averting from yours and instead to the fridge, as it was the most interesting thing in the kitchen. “How Hangman started dragging you along to games, and you fell in love with the game. But then, every time you went together, they won, like you were the secret good luck charm of the team. And when he learned that peonies just happened to represent good luck…it all fell into place.”

You desperately tried to fight off your blush when he looked back at you. You and Jake had told that story about your callsign months ago, way back during the start of training for the Uranium mission. You didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that he remembered every detail of it, instead choosing to clear your throat with a very over-exaggerated nod.

“Yeah, see…you know the story. Promise you, though, Rangers games are a thousand times better. You’ll have to come home with me sometime, when we get time off,”

“Would…your family like me?”

Yeah, in your rant to Natasha and Jake, you’d forgotten to mention moments like this. He held the door, he bought you flowers, walked closest to the road on sidewalks, texted good morning and good night, and then sometimes he just…said things. Things that just came out of left field. Comments that felt like they were straddling the line of friendship and something more, too afraid to commit to one side or another fully, as if afraid to make the leap.

His eyes held something in them you couldn’t place; you could only describe it as uncertainty. Your eyes betrayed you once again, glancing at his lips where he was just barely biting into his bottom lip, before glancing back to those blue eyes you adored so much, hidden behind those glasses that were just so him that the thought of them kept you awake at night.

“Yeah. Too much, probably,” you settled on, though there was an unmistakable air of nervousness in your tone. The air in the entire kitchen had shifted with just a single sentence, the heaviness tangible, and you felt like you were going to suffocate looking into those piercing, soft blue eyes. “They’d probably never let you leave. You’d be stuck with us.”

“I-Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” your response came quickly, still laced with nerves, just as his was. But the whole time, neither of you looked away. “I’d choose you to be stuck with.”

He’d straightened slightly at that comment from you, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms in front of his chest, the jersey lying around his shoulders tightening around him at the movement. Your eyes watched, tracked every little movement as a pang of heat flashed through you at just the sight of the muscles strewn through his biceps and forearms stretching with the movement. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. You followed suit, then stopped yourself. An invisible line was still drawn in the sand between you both, no one quite sure enough to take the leap and talk about it all. To talk about the tension, or the heated stares, or even the softer looks exchanged when you both thought the other wasn’t looking.

“Hey, my two favorite brick walls! You two somehow making love in a 75 square foot kitchen against the fridge, or can we eat some pizza with these beers?”

If there was anything that could break a moment, it was Jake Seresin. His over-confident tone shouted out from the living room, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Natasha hitting him and the rest of the squad laughing.

With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you looked back at Bob. He wordlessly passed you the paper plates you’d set down on the counter, avoiding your eyes, even as his fingers brushed yours for a moment longer than they needed to.

The moment might’ve been ruined, but the ‘what ifs’ still hung heavy in the air like they had been for months.

“Shut it, Seresin, before I call your mother! Come get food, you hooligans, I know what you’re all like hangry and I’m not in the mood for it today,”

With pizza and beer distributed around the group, everyone found themselves seated around the limited seating that you and Natasha had in your living room. Rooster and Coyote were already taking up two-thirds of the couch, Payback and Fanboy were fighting over the beanbag, Nat had taken her favorite spot on the floor in front of the coffee table, while Bob took his usual place on the loveseat. With a beer in hand and pizza loaded up on your plate, you made your way over to the last spot on the couch. Hangman, being his typical annoying self, practically vaulted over the backside of the couch, almost knocking Bradley’s beer out of his hand as he let out an indignant ‘hey!’ at the action.

The wink Jake gave you, and the laughter that Natasha tried to cover up, were enough to tell you that this was definitely planned.

Without even sparing a glance at Bob, you took a seat on the other end of the loveseat, as far away as you could given that little moment in the kitchen not long before. You ignored the wiggling eyebrows that Jake was sending your way as Rooster scrolled through the various streaming services on your living room TV, trying to find something to watch to fill the time.

“We’ve got time for one movie; my turn, since Javy picked last week on movie night,” there was a collective groan through the room at Bradley's choice, ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ simply because it was his usual choice during movie nights. “First pitch is at 4:10, but Mav told me they need us ready to go by 3:45 for the opening ceremony stuff. He said to meet him and Penny by the home plate gate, and someone from the home office would meet us out there.”

“I’ll take the ladies and Bob in the truck,” Jake threw in, with a sly wink sent your way. “The rest of you boys can ride with Rooster. Figured we could park in that garage off Tenth Ave since we wanted to hit up Tom’s Watch Bar after the game. Hope you ladies are cool with us crashing here tonight, because I’m not in the mood to drive home later.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure our landlord will love a noisy, drunk group of fighter pilots staying here,” you’d shot back at your best friend, garnering another round of laughter from the group. “Nat and I aren’t sharing our beds, and we’ve only got the one air mattress, so fight amongst yourselves for sleeping arrangements. Now start the damn movie before we run out of time.”

With how often Bradley chose Shawshank during his pick on movie nights, there was barely any watching of the movie actually occurring. Payback and Fanboy had taken to giving dramatic renditions of the dialogue in terrible accents, leading to laughter throughout the room for every second of the movie.

Barely half an hour in, with pizza and sides finished off, your phone buzzed. A notification that you were added to a new group chat called ‘Operation Peob’ was the last thing you were expecting to get.

At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Especially with Jake. He’d been this way since high school, always butting into anything that had to do with your love life and trying to give you a push, so his meddling here wasn’t surprising. Natasha’s willingness to help and agree with Hangman, of all things, had you thinking that maybe this pining had gone on for far too long.

You and Bob were close; you sat close plenty and had been in enough semi-intimate settings with one another. What could it really hurt?

Tearing your eyes away long enough to glance at Bob for just a moment, you swore you could see his eyes dart away from your legs crossed underneath you and back to his phone in his hand, but chalked it up to seeing something you wanted to see. What you could see was that blush coating his skin. So, with a small boost of confidence, and the knowledge that Nat and Jake were definitely watching with renewed interest out of the corners of their eyes, you swung your legs out from under you and draped them across Bob’s lap without a word, bringing your eyes back to the movie screen to ignore your own skin’s flush.

You weren’t the only people in the room, but god, in those few short moments afterward, did it feel like you were. The movie felt quieter, the laughter of your friends was drowned out, and the only thing you could force yourself to think about was the fact that your bare legs were resting over Bob’s own bare legs. How warm his skin was, how it felt against your own, and you let your mind wander to how you’d give anything to feel any other part of-

Then, Bob’s hands were on your legs.

Holy shit, Bob’s hands were on your legs. And you were frozen in place.

Gentle and yet firm all the same, it was clear just in his touch how big his hands truly were as they seemed to engulf your skin. One found its place just around your knee, skin warm to the touch and igniting a fire under his touch, and what you wouldn’t give for that hand to rest just barely higher above your knee and on your thigh. His other hand rested itself right around your calf, and there only seemed to be a moment of hesitation before his fingers began to knead little circles into your muscle that had you biting the inside of your lip to keep back a noise you’d never utter in the presence of your squad.

You’d spared a quick glance at Bob out of the corner of your eyes, but his gaze never moved from the TV screen. So, you’d averted your own gaze to the movie too, but not before catching yet another obnoxious wink from Hangman and an impressed look thrown your way from Natasha.

Even as the movie had ended, and everyone was putting their shoes back on and unplugging their phones from their chargers in order to head out the door to the game, neither you nor Bob brought it up. Not once as you’d gotten off the couch, or as he’d let you use his shoulder for leverage to slip your beat-up tennis shoes on, or even as he climbed into the backseat of Jake’s truck, taking your hand in his own to help you inside.

Even in that short, barely ten-minute ride to the stadium, that heat hadn’t left your skin, and those thoughts refused to purge themselves from your head. You could only hope the same thoughts and feelings were running through Bob as he kept his gaze focused on the San Diego streets out the window.

“How did we manage to beat Rooster here?” Hangman complained the second that his truck was parked on the third floor of the garage, popping his front seat forward so that Bob could exit, helping you out as well just as he helped you in. “We left at the same fucking time, it’s not that hard to get here.”

Your hand slipped from Bob’s with a grateful, albeit nervous, smile that he reciprocated the second your feet landed on the ground of the garage.

“We took National Ave, they probably took Ocean View and hit some traffic,” Natasha shot back, rounding the truck before setting her sights on you. “You have the sunblock, right? I don’t feel like being burnt to a crisp today.”

You tossed the bottle from the back of the truck over to Nat before it was passed around to all of you, though Hangman swore he ‘didn’t need any’ and that he’d just get even more tan in the sun. He lost that argument when you, once again, threatened to call his mother.

With Rooster arriving just moments later with Coyote, Fanboy and Payback packed into the Bronco, parking beside Jake’s truck, the Dagger Squad was on the move toward the stadium.

It was barely a walk to the stadium, your chosen parking garage not even a street away, as your group made it’s way down the sidewalk in the direction of the home plate entrance. You and Bob brought up the rear, and you were barely a few steps down the sidewalk before his hand found the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine, and easily switching places with you so that he walked along the edge closest to the road.

“Why do you always do that when we’re walking somewhere?” you ventured to ask him, bumping your shoulder lightly with his as you crossed one of the main roads heading toward the stadium. Bob shot you a soft smile as his hand found your back once more, guiding you slightly out of the way as a group of rowdy teenagers went barrelling past you all.

“Roads can be dangerous, just…don’t want you getting hurt is all,” was all the answer he offered, his hand finally leaving the small of your back after lingering for a moment longer than it needed to.

God, he really was a gentleman. That smile seemed to be etched perfectly into your face until your eyes glanced at your teammates in front of you, and the jerseys all bearing their last names hanging from their shoulders.

“Fuck,” Bob glanced over at you as you groaned, rubbing at your face. “I left my fucking jersey back at the apartment. Mav is going to kill me.”

Barely a second later, Bob’s jersey was bunched up in his hands as he presented it out toward you as you walked. Your eyes shot open as you looked at him, shaking your head, but his grin only widened.

“Take mine-”

“Bob, Mav specifically told us to wear our jerseys tonight, he’s going to be pissed at you if you don’t have yours on,”

“He’ll go easy on me, it’s fine,” he tried to assure you, lips quirking up slightly more into a smirk. “He’s still pissed about that argument you and Hangman had mid-flight the other day, he won’t go easy on you.”

Part of you wanted to argue, but there was something in the look in Bob’s eyes and the flutter it sent through your chest that had you taking the jersey from him without another word.

The first thought that ran through your mind was that it was bigger, much bigger than your own jersey that was still bunched up on your bed. You were trying desperately not to think about the fact that those biceps you found yourself distracted by almost every night you guys were at the Hard Deck, in civilian clothes or in your khaki uniforms, had been hugged by this fabric just moments prior.

The second thought was the smell; unmistakably his cologne. Bob never tended to wear a ton of it, but you’d been in close proximity enough to him to pick up on it over the last few months. Cypress, a woody smell that felt like the definition of lying in nature, surrounded by pine trees, and a hint of bayberry, another woody scent that brought a hint of sweetness to the smell.

The final thought that crossed your mind the second it was slipped over your shoulders completely was the fact that you were, quite literally, wearing his name on your back. When you’d turned to look at him again, breathless just from the idea, you swore you could see his pupils almost darken just a touch as he licked at his lips, his eyes flickering away from the back of the jersey and to your face again.

“Thanks,” you’d managed to speak as it felt like heat was coursing straight through your veins. Bob nodded, and you couldn’t help but notice the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Of course,” the lower tone to his voice had parts of your body that you were not willing to think about in public practically aching with the need to touch him. “It looks good on you.”

Bob could’ve meant the jersey looked good on you, or he could’ve meant the name ‘Floyd’ looked good on you, but boy, were you hoping he meant the latter. Unfortunately, you’d already made it to the home plate entrance without even realizing it, and Maverick didn’t look particularly happy with how long he’d been kept waiting while Penny chatted with the woman from the front office there to lead you through the ballpark.

“I said we needed to be on the field by 3:45, that didn’t mean show up at the gate at 3:40,” Maverick shot at the group, before his eyes found Bob hiding in the back next to you. “Bob…push-ups after the next round of training, I said everyone needed to wear their jerseys today. We’ll discuss how many later.”

The eyes of every single one of your friends seemed to shoot back to both of you. Judging by the smirks on everyone’s faces, they all knew for a fact that you hadn’t been wearing your jersey when you’d all left and Bob had been.

“It’s nice to see you’re all here!” the woman from the front office greeted them all, and you were mentally thanking her for saving you from an embarrassing confrontation with your team. “We’re on a time crunch now, so please quickly follow me so I can get you guys to the field before the opening ceremony begins…”

As you all followed her through the gates of the ballpark and down toward one of the sections that would allow you access to the field, Hangman fell back into step beside you and Bob for just a moment. He leaned in, lips barely grazing your ear so he could speak only to you.

“Step two was to somehow get you in his jersey, but you both beat me to it. At this rate, you’ll be fucking by the fourth inning-”

You attempted to land a punch to Jake’s shoulder, cheeks blaring red, but he’d dodged it with a laugh, falling back into step ahead of you with Natasha and Coyote. It took everything in you to avoid killing him, or looking at Bob, as you made your way through the crowd of Padres fans toward the field.

“So,” Bob chimed in after a moment, his hand catching onto your forearm lightly and tugging you to his side before an already drunk older man could spill his beer on you. “You ever been on a professional field before?”

“Once, back in high school,” you answered him, cheeks still burning as Bob’s hand didn’t leave your arm, keeping you at his side as you squeezed through the crowd of the sold-out, late afternoon game. “Globe Life Field, it’s where the Rangers play. We took a field trip, got to see behind the scenes, and take photos out on the field.”

“I assume there wasn’t a huge crowd of almost 40,000 when you were on the field, though,”

“Not in the slightest,” you laughed, glancing back over to Bob as he laughed with you, though you could hear the nerves in his voice. You raised your hand, placing it over his on your arm with a little squeeze of comfort. “Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine. We just have to stand, listen to ‘God Bless America,’ watch Mav hopefully not mess up the first pitch after the National Anthem, and then we can go enjoy the game.”

Your reassurance seemed to do the trick as you walked through the gate at the end of section 114 and onto the field. The woman who had walked you down was positioning you all in a line around home plate, telling you each where to stand, while entertaining whatever it was that Hangman seemed to be animatedly telling her. You watched as she seemed to think something over for a moment, her eyes flickering toward you, before it looked like she agreed with whatever Jake had said, getting a fist bump out of him.

When you met his eyes with raised eyebrows, he’d only sent you a wink and took his place in line beside you.

Though your squad had just barely made it to the field on time, things had gone off without a hitch. The stadium announcer had introduced your squad to the crowd for Navy Appreciation Night with thunderous applause from the sold-out stadium. The local man singing both ‘God Bless America’ and the National Anthem was perfect and got his own standing ovation. Maverick’s ceremonial first pitch…could’ve been better, given how far in the left-hander’s batters box it ended up. You were all thankful that Penny was standing off to the side to get it on video for blackmail at some point.

“Section 116, row D,” Maverick informed the entire group once everyone was off the field, crowded back near the concessions as the first pitch of the game was thrown, and the Padres versus Mets game was officially underway. “Penny and I will go find seats, one of you bring us back a nice tray of nachos!”

Nat was quickly swept up by Hangman, Rooster, and Coyote, dragged off in the direction of one of the local pizza shops that were set up within the park, while Payback and Fanboy darted in the direction of a local beer company not far from that pizza joint.

“Well, baby-on-board,” you teased, spinning around to stand in front of him with a grin. “Ready to have some real ballpark food?”

Bob laughed, hand once again finding the small of your back even though there was a much small amount of people littering the walkway now that the game was underway, and he set you down a grin that had you ready to kiss him on the spot.

“I’m ready for the full experience, flower,”

That’s how, barely a minute later, you had Bob over at one of the self-serve food stations as you loaded your arms with food. A giant tray of nachos with cheese for Mav and Penny, two footlong hot dogs for yourself and Bob, and two comically large waters balanced on top. Bob was laughing again, trying to hold you steady so you didn’t drop any of the food on the way over to the checkout area.

“The footlong hot dogs are a necessity at any ballpark you visit- don’t laugh at me!” more laughter bubbled out of you as Bob shook his head with a grin, taking items out of your arms and scanning them through the self-checkout. “I’m giving you the true baseball experience, including the over-priced food. Nachos are a staple, too, Mav has good taste. And we can’t forget the water, this San Diego sun is brutal.”

Bob picked up the small packet of peanuts still left in your hands, shaking it with a raised eyebrow in your direction.

“And peanuts?”

“Another ballpark classic…I also know how much you love them, you’re always eating them at the Hard Deck,”

He looked at you for another moment, his smile almost visibly softening, before he shook his head and turned back to the checkout in front of you both.

“God, you’re adorable,”

You weren’t sure Bob had meant to say that as loudly as he did, given the flush crawling up his neck directly after, but he had. And that simple statement had you frozen in place, just watching him as he paid for the food without a complaint. Even as you both moved to the condiment station, slathering ketchup and mustard over both of your hot dogs before gathering the supplies and heading toward your seats, that little comment had you almost on autopilot.

“Finally, you two missed the entire first inning!”

It was Bradley’s voice that finally shook you awake. It was true, the Mets had gone down easily in three batters, just as the Padres did, and the second inning was already well under way. With a fake laugh, you shot Bradley the middle finger that had everyone laughing, before passing the nachos off to Maverick and moving toward the final seats in your row for your team.

They’d shoved you and Bob off on the end of the row toward the middle, placing you right between Coyote and whatever random group had unfortunately been stuck beside you all.

“Okay, I feel like I have to see what’s so damn good about these things now,” Bob announced one you both were seated, leaning over to ‘clink’ his hot dog off the side of your own with a shared laugh with you. You held off on your own, simply watching him and the way his face contorted slightly after a single bite. “It’s…it’s not terrible, but I think I’ve had better just from Bradley on the grill. Not worth the price.”

“No, but you’re paying for the experience,” you reminded him with another giggle. Ketchup and mustard were plastered to the side of Bob’s face from that one bite alone as you grabbed one of the napkins from his lap, reaching up to wipe it away. “Game has barely started, and you’re making a mess of yourself, Floyd.”

It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you froze, realizing how intimate a position that simple action put you both in. Just barely a few inches away from one another, close enough that you could see the faint smudges on the lenses of his glasses and study the exact shade of blue his eyes were. Close enough to, once again, watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, to get a glimpse of that flush in his cheeks that never seemed to leave. Your throat went dry instantly, but you couldn’t look away. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and for once, you didn’t miss the way Bob’s eyes darted down to the action, lingering on your lips for a moment longer than needed, before finding your eyes again. It was hard to miss the way his pupils dilated the second they met your eyes again, or even the slight catch in your breath at that action.

“Hey! Didn’t Mav say something about acting professional today? Ballpark is no place to be eye-fucking each other, you two,”

If Hangman interrupted another moment with Bob today, you were personally going to bury him in the ground. His mother would forgive you; she loved you. Even so, you tore yourself away from Bob and the ruined moment, focusing on the game as you sent a blind middle finger down the row toward him as Mav lectured him about swearing with children around while the others laughed at the antics.

The game managed to go off without another comment from Hangman for a few innings. It was an evenly matched game, for the most part, both the Padres and Mets having some errors that led to runs that shouldn’t have been scored. At one point, on a blown-out call at second base, you jumped from your seat, screaming at the umpires just like many in the stadium were. When they’d finally set it off for review and corrected the call you returned yourself to your seat, shooting Bob a sheepish smile as he watched you in amusement.

“Sorry…grew up going to games with my dad, and with Jake. I get a little intense sometimes when they don’t call things right,”

Bob smiled and seemed to hesitate for just a moment before he stretched his arm over the back of your chair, his fingertips just barely brushing over your shoulder as he focused back on the game.

“It’s okay…it’s cute, seeing you all passionate,”

Bob Floyd was, once again, driving you insane. This time, you had no idea if he realized he was or not. 

By the seventh inning stretch and a crowd performance of ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’, your group had participated in three rounds of the wave, Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy had gotten up and given a fantastic rendition of Sweet Caroline along with the crowd that had gotten them projected onto the scoreboard. And Bob? His arm never moved from it’s place, and every so often he’d lean over toward you to mutter a question about the game right into your ear.

“Wait,” he’d leaned over for another question, and you could feel his breath ghost over the shell of your ear. It was hard to tell if you were hot because of the sun or because of Bob’s proximity at this point. The seventh inning had just ended with an out on the Padres runner at first, and they were slowly transitioning over into the eighth inning. “Why did the Mets throw to first to get that runner out when there was a guy on second?”

Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the scoreboard in left field. It’s time for the Petco Park eighth inning…KISS CAM!

“It wasn’t a forced out,” you explained to Bob, ignoring the cheers of the crowd over whatever announcement had just been made as you pointed toward the field to explain. “Since there was only a runner on second, he’s not forced to move because there’s no one behind him. If they want to get him out, they have to tag him with their glove and the ball.”

“So why not do that?” Bob questioned, glancing away from you and toward the scoreboard as the crowd continued to go wild, and you continued to explain.

“It’s not a guarantee that they’ll get him. With only two innings left, plus the score being tied, you want to throw down the runner on first and give yourself the best chance of an out. You want to end that inning as soon as possible, and while the runner is already in scoring position at second base, his chances of scoring increase greatly if he reaches third base, and you give him a chance to do so if you don’t get that runner at first out-”

“U-Uh…Peony?”

You glanced at Bob as he interrupted your explanation, tilting your head quizically at him. He glanced back at you, eyes wide and jaw slack as he pointed to the scoreboard, and you finally followed his gaze.

The Kiss Cam, broadcasted right on the scoreboard for the entire park to see. And the camera? Centered directly on you and Bob.

In a rush, the cheering of the entire stadium came straight back to you as you and Bob sat frozen in your seats, just staring at the screen as the camera stayed locked on you both. You spared a glance down the line at your friends, you squad, and they were all on their feet cheering for you both. Even Maverick and Penny were cheering.

“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”

The entire stadium was cheering and chanting, and it didn’t look like the camera centered just a few rows down from you both was leaving anytime soon. At least, not without what it came for.

Slowly, you turned back to Bob, eyes still wide and words caught in your throat. He was still leaning in toward you, arm still on the back of your chair. But there was a smile on his lips; nervous, but with a faint hint of something else in the quirked edges. Something that felt a lot, in your head, like hope.

You? You were terrified, but knew that you had to make a split-second decision, one that could potentially change everything…for the better or worse.

But one more second looking at those gorgeous blue eyes, or at the way his tongue peeked out to just run over his bottom lip, had you mumbling ‘fuck it.’

Your hand wound around the back of his neck before you could stop yourself, tugging the handsome WSO closer and brushing your lips against his like you had dreamed of for months. 

Even though the cheers around the stadium, practically from your friends, got louder in that moment, it was all drowned out in your own ears the second you had Bob Floyd’s lips on yours.

Gentle, polite, even a little unsure at first, was what that kiss felt like. Just the smallest touch, but the biggest leap over that blurry friendship-or-more line you’d been dancing along for so long. But the feeling, the softness of his lips, the leftover taste of vanilla chapstick, and the fluttering in your chest had your hand gripping his neck just the slightest bit harder, tugging him closer as your other hand grabbed onto the armrest between you both as if to keep you grounded. That seemed to be all Bob needed to respond in kind.

His hand left the chair behind you, curling around your shoulder to hold you as close as he could, given the awkward positioning the ballpark seats allowed. You swallowed the groan that left Bob’s lips almost involuntarily with your own mouth as his hand gripped your shoulder as tightly as it could for just a moment. While at once it was gentle and unsure, those insecurities were long gone. Bob’s lips moved against you clumsily, desperately, just trying to memorize the feel of your lips against his.

As quick as it had happened, it ended. The cheering stopped, the camera disappeared, and you and Bob pulled away from one another. A simple kiss, no more than five seconds, broadcasted for the entire stadium to see, but it had wrecked you. Inside and out, that mere moment had solidified that you were hopelessly in love with Bob Floyd, and there was no one else you’d rather be in love with. And, given the blown pupils, the heavy breathing, and the flush etched into Bob’s skin, you were praying it had solidified the same thing for him, too.

“And THAT, Dagger Squad, is how you finally get two brick walls of human beings to figure their shit out!”

You didn’t want to look away from Bob, not at all, even as the baseball game before you finally resumed play for the eighth inning. But you stole a glance behind you to Hangman as he leaned over everyone, ignoring his lecture about swearing from Maverick again, shooting you a wink as the rest of the squad looked toward you and Bob happily.

“The office worker, when you were talking to her earlier…did you plan the kiss cam?”

“I told you I had a foolproof plan for tonight, and it worked! Operation Peob can officially be labeled a success, in my eyes. At least, partially,”

“Operation Peob?”

Your attention was brought back to Bob as he asked that question, a dopey smile on his lips as his fingers kneaded into your shoulder comfortingly. You breathed out a laugh, hang sliding from his neck to rest over his chest, right on top of his dog tags like you’d thought about so many times before.

“Hangman’s terrible nickname for his plan to…get us together,” you dug your phone out, flashing him the groupchat from earlier as he let out a breathy laugh at the contents of the messages. “Nat was in on it, too.”

“Guess, she was playing double agent, then,” Bob dug his own phone out, opening another group message and flipping the phone toward you to read with a grin.

There was nothing you could do, nothing you needed to do, after seeing those messages besides laugh. Bob laughed with you, your forehead falling against his forearm as you both shook with laughter, the game behind you on the field long forgotten.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know for certain now, it’s that our friends suck at coming up with ship names,” you pointed toward his phone incredulously. “I don’t know what’s worse, Peob or Boney!”

“Boney is at least a word, I’d argue that Peob is worse. Given that Hangman came up with it, too, it makes sense,”

You laughed again, before finding yourself just completely lost in those blue eyes you’d fantasized about for so long. Bob was looking at you, too, as if lost in a daze where the only thing he could see was you. That dopey smile that refused to leave his lips was sending yet another flutter through your chest and heat to places that you didn’t need to be thinking about in public.

“So…how long?”

It was Bob’s turn to pause, thinking over your question. His arm moved from the back of your chair as your hand slid off his chest. His hand, though, only found a home right on the skin of your thigh, exactly where you’d wanted it to rest just hours ago. The feel of his skin on such a sensitive part of your body, the pressure of his grip into the muscle under his hand, had another bolt of heat shooting down your spine as your body leaned into his touch, practically begging to be touched by him.

“The first time we met, at the Hard Deck. Hangman was being a dick to me, as he so often can be, and you took his ego down with a single story from your middle school dance. I knew the second you did that…that I was utterly fucked. It only took Phoenix and Rooster a day to figure it out, too,”

If it were possible to love him more, you did in that moment. Your hand came to rest on top of his, squeezing it as the crowd cheered for the home run that had just been hit by Xander Bogaerts. Your entire attention was on Bob, though, just as his was on you.

“I realized it after the bird strike, even though I think I was already feeling something before that. To see you all scratched up, to not know if you were okay until we got to the hospital, and then the way I just broke down crying when I saw you…it was hard to ignore after that,”

Bob’s smile only widened, giving your leg an affectionate squeeze.

“We wasted a lot of time being too scared to do something about this, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you gave him a small nod, thumb tracing circles onto the back of his hand as he gave you another squeeze. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Well, at first, I was sure that you and Hangman were a thing,” he couldn’t contain his laughter as you let out a fake gag at the thought. “Trust me, after one day of training with you guys, I realized that was ridiculous. After that, we became friends, and…I got nervous. You made me nervous, like, beyond comprehension. Still do. I tried sometimes to make it obvious, with the flowers on your birthday or when I’d ask if you wanted to get dinner.”

“And to think, I was just complaining to Jake and Nat this morning that those little moments were driving me insane,” you laughed at yourself, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder as you let your eyes focus back on the ending of the game. “I was nervous, too, you know. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

There was silence between you both for a moment, just the cheers of the crowd around you, before Bob’s lips pressed to your hairline. In that moment, you were cursing yourself for not having said something sooner, for depriving yourself of being Bob Floyd’s for as long as you had.

“I’d wait again if it meant I got you in the end,”

Even in a crowded stadium, it was like you and Bob had found yourselves nestled into your own little world. As the game ended and the crowd dispersed to the streets, your group waiting until you were some of the last few to leave, you still stayed wrapped up in one another. Bob’s hand easily found yours as your fingers intertwined with one another on instinct, tying yourselves to each other as you moved with your friends out of the stadium. While the snide comments from the team thrown back your way had both of you blushing, neither of you dared to let go of one another.

The second you hit the streets outside of the stadium, fully able to observe the fast-setting sun, Hangman was leading the charge around the stadium in the direction of the bar he had mentioned hitting up after the game. He was met with no protests from the group, everyone wanting to celebrate the Padres' 8-6 win in the ninth, and also the ‘culmination of months of pining’ as they’d all glanced back toward you and Bob in the back of the group.

That’s where you both stayed in a comfortable silence with one another, simply watching your friends act like absolute psychos on the sidewalk in front of you. Bob placed himself closest to the road again without even asking, your hands never unlinking as they swung between you both.

“So, since we already kind of beared our souls to each other in those uncomfortable ballpark seats,” your smile only grew at the laugh Bob couldn’t help but let slip over your comment. “Where…does that leave us?”

He glanced over with that adorable smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, and brought your hand up to his lips to leave a gentle kiss right to your skin.

If he wasn’t careful, you were going to get arrested for jumping his bones in the middle of the downtown sidewalk. Bystanders be damned, your need for this man was outweighing just about every single rational thought you had.

“This leaves us at me needing to take you out on a date like a proper gentleman, first,” was his response, letting your hands fall back down between you both. Your eyes didn’t leave the side of his stupidly handsome face, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to those late night thoughts that invaded your mind about him, or the way that white t-shirt looked entirely too good on him right now, or how you wanted to just grab him by the dog tags and tug him closer-

“Does being a proper gentleman mean you won’t fuck me before the first date, too?”

As your cheeks reddened, eyes quickly turning back to your friends ahead of you, you decided that you were going to blame Jake for that little outburst. How was it his fault? No idea, but you’d been blaming things on him since you were a child, so why not continue that trend into adulthood.

There was a yank on your hand, your body spinning until it collided with Bob, who had stopped right in the middle of the almost empty sidewalk. It didn’t take a second for your eyes to meet his, and you swore you could feel your knees wobble just at the look in his eyes: pupils blown and a heat dancing through them. He looked as if he wanted to devour you here, in the middle of the sidewalk, and the feeling was mutual. His large hand slid around your waist to your lower back, dipping under his jersey and barely pulling your tank top up so that his hand could rest against your bare skin. You knew in that moment that you must look absolutely wrecked.

“Yeah, a proper gentleman would at least buy you dinner first,” his tone had dropped incredibly low, a sound that nearly stopped your heart, and his grip right on your hip tightened. “But my patience is wearing a bit thin, especially when you’ve got my name sprawled across your back.”

“Well,” with your hands lying against his chest, you allowed your fingers to curl around his dog tags just like you’d thought about so many times today, tugging him toward you with a smirk on your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing my patience is wearing thin, too.”

Bob’s smile quirked up as he leaned in, just as you leaned up to him- until two arms wrapped around your waist and practically tore you from Bob’s arms, landing you over a broad shoulder with a yelp.

“Baby-On-Board, Peony! I expected more from you two!” Seresin. Of course fucking Jake Seresin had to ruin everything again, holding you over his shoulder like a scolded child as he let out a ‘tsk.’ “Public displays of affection can make people very uncomfortable!”

“Jake, you’re going to be lucky if you ever step foot in an F-18 again when I’m done with you,” there was murderous intent in your tone as he turned on his heel, continuing the walk toward the bar with a laughing Penny, Mav, Coyote, and Payback surrounding you both. You hit him once on the back with your fist, not that it did anything to him, before speaking just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the one who was bitching at me to get laid!”

“Not in the middle of the damn sidewalk, though, little flower,”

“I wasn’t going to fuck him on Park Boulevard, but damn, at least let me kiss him! This is what you wanted!”

“Step one was the legs, step two was the jersey, step three was the kiss cam, and now welcome to step four: more tension. Have some faith in me, and our little baby-on-board is going to be begging to fuck you before you’ve even had a drink,”

You grumbled something along the lines of ‘castrating’ him before accepting that he wasn’t going to put you down anytime soon, at least not until you got to the bar. Resting your chin against your hand popped against Jake’s shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Bob. Rooster was at his side, arm slung around his shoulder as he muttered something that had a blush coating your WSO’s cheeks, Phoenix and Fanboy laughing beside him. When Nat met your eyes, a smirk crawled across her own face.

“Comfortable up there, Peony?”

“Just peachy, Nat. Trying to calculate how hard I have to swing my leg in this position to take away Jake’s ability to breed,”

With more laughter from the group, your eyes found Bob’s, and he was already looking at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen that had your heart racing like it always did around him. Annoying friends or not, as long as he kept looking at you like that, you’d put up with it all.

By the time Hangman had trekked all the way around the stadium and across Gallagher Square to the sports bar he wanted to visit, the sun had set. The inside was already packed from what you could gather through the windows as Jake finally set you back down on your feet.

“We’ll go get a tab started,” Coyote announced, most of the group following in after him. Jake nodded in his direction, holding the door open for your group as he glanced down at you with a smirk. Your glare hadn’t softened at all toward your best friend.

“You ever pull that shit again, and I will tell the story about how you fell off your horse when you were eight,”

“Damn, pulling out the deep cuts,” his tone was indifferent, the cocky bastard just choosing to shoot you a smirk and a wink as he stepped inside the bar door as well. “It’s packed in here, go see if there’s some outdoor seating.”

Yeah right, like you gave a shit what Jake wanted at that point.

An arm snaked it’s way around your waist, hand resting against your stomach as a pair of lips you were slowly growing accustomed to the feeling of pressed to the side of your head. You didn’t hesitate to lean back against Bob, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as he smirked down at you.

“Enjoy your ride?”

You huffed, elbowing him lightly with no malice what-so-ever.

“No, especially when there’s another man I’d rather ride,”

Even as your cheeks flushed at your own confident statement, you didn’t look away from Bob, giving you a full view of the way his eyes darkened at the comment. He glanced to the bar entrance, before behind you both, before his hand wrapped itself around yours and tugged.

“Come on,”

The bar did have an outdoor patio, but given the raging humidity still in the San Diego air as night time set in, everyone at the bar had opted to sit inside with the air conditioning. Bob wasn’t stopping at the patio, though, guiding you around the bar tables and out past the patio to the secluded section behind the bar, hidden from the main walkways with trees blocking the view in from Gallagher Square.

Nervous giggles left you in those moments once you were well and truly along, just barely illuminated by the string lights hanging on the patio just a few feet away. Those giggles ceased, your breath catching, as Bob stalked toward you as if he was the hunter and you were the prey, backing you up until your back was flush with the brick wall of the building covered in darkness.

Then, he was on you.

It’s hot, its messy–its the kiss of two people who have been starving to get their hands on one another for months. You practically unravel, putty in Bob Floyd’s hands, those same hands that are caressing up your bare thighs and to your waist then back down once again, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your fingers were threaded through hsi sandy blonde hair, tugging at the strands with every movement of his lips against yours and every swipe of his tongue just along the edge of your own, leaving his taste lingering in your mouth as you craved more. 

One of his hands trailed down the back of your left thigh, gripping into the flesh and tugging it up around his waist, holding it there as he ground his hips toward your core as a breathless moan tumbled from your lips.

“I-In the interest of, uh–oh god–of putting it all out there,” you barely managed to get your words out, fingers tightening their grip in Bob’s hair as his lips trailed across your jawline and down your neck, nipping just enough at the skin that there were sure to be little marks left in the morning. “You…you realize I’m hopelessly in love with you, right?”

“I hope so, because I-I’m in love with you, too,” breathy, wrecked Bob Floyd was testing every ounce of your patience left, his words ghosting over your neck as he nipped at your skin once more, accentuating it with another roll of his hips. “If we’re being completely honest, then…can I say something?”

“As long as you don’t stop touching me,”

His laughter vibrated against your skin, his lips trailing back up your neck until they hovered right in front of your own, giving you the perfect view of his lust blown gaze. If you even had breath left to catch, it did, as the hand on your waist moved to the front of your jean shorts, fingers just barely dipping past the waistline and ghosting over the skin of your lower stomach.

“These shorts,” he snapped them back against your skin, the other hand still holding your thigh tight around his waist squeezing tightly for just a moment. “Have been killing me for hours. The legs on my lap? Nice play by Hangman, I’ll admit. You’ve been driving me insane for hours.”

“You think seeing those biceps and forearms in this t-shirt hasn’t been driving me insane?” your gaze flickered to said shirt and dog tags before returning to his eyes. “But…just hours?”

“No, for months,” he was quick to counter, leaning in an stealing another bruising kiss from you, barley pulling back so that his lips still brushed yours as he spoke. “When it’s hot out on the tarmac and you unzip your flight suit, and I can see the sweat dripping down your chest. Today, wearing my name on your back like it’s your own. But the one that never leaves me…when we all went up to the the Mission Beach Boardwalk. You wore that little maroon sundress, the one that barely comes to your knees. And I don’t know why, maybe you wanted to kill me o-or maybe it was one of Hangman and Phoenix’s stupid plans, but you didn’t wear bike shorts that day. You bent over to look at something in one of the shops, and I saw them clear as day: pink, lacy, covered in flowers, and barely covering an inch of your skin. I haven’t stopped thinking about them since.”

Desire coursed through every inch of you at his words, at the memory of that day. To know that Bob really did think of you in the same depraved way that you did him only had your want–your need–for him increasing tenfold.

The ghost of a smirk crossed your lips as one of your hands left his hair. He watched it as your fingers trailed over his shoulders, down his bicep as your nails dug into the skin just slightly, down his forearm as your nails traced his veins, before settling over the hand still gripping to your shorts. Hooking a finger around his, you dipped it fully below the waistline of your jeans as you heard his breath catch, looping it around the edge of your panties and tugging them upwards until they were just barely visible: pink, lacy, and covered in flowers.

“It’s a matching set,” you whispered in a sultry tone, his eyes finally finding their way back to yours with a newfound heat in them, and you swore you could see a thin layer of fog overtake the lenses of his glasses. Leaning in just barely, you caught his lower lip between your teeth, biting just barely enough for a groan to elicit from somewhere deep in his chest, another shot of heat going straight to your core, espeically as his hips once against ground forward as if they had a mind of their own, and there was no mistaking the size of the rigid bulge pressing against you now. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Floyd.”

“It will be when you’re finally under me,”

“You’ve got me pressed up against a wall,” you managed to joke breathlessly, hand finding it’s way back up to his hair. His fingers stayed dipped past the waistline of your shorts, slowly finding their way around to the back, his whole hand almost dipping lower now as the heat of his hand spread out across your entire ass, squeezing just hard enough for you to stutter out another gasp against his lips. You felt his lips curl into a smirk at the sound. “I-Isn’t that good enough?”

“Baby, I’m not fucking you against a wall with our Captain probably thirty feet away. No, when I finally get to fuck you, I’m taking my time until you’re ruined,”

Yeah, fuck anyone on this team that joked that Bob Floyd must have been vanilla in bed, or that he’d be awkward and stutter his way through any sexual encounter. He had you willing to put your entire career on the line for a misdemeanor just to finally feel him like you did in your dreams.

“Damn…I leave you two alone for ten minutes and baby-on-board looks like he’s two seconds from whipping it out,”

Jake Seresin was a dead man. Worse than a dead man, not that you even knew what could be worse, but the second you could get your hands on him you were going to strangle him. Or beat him. Or hold a pillow over his face until he finally stopped breathing and you never had to hear hid stupid voice again.

Your head fell to Bob’s shoulder, hands still wound in his hair and refusing to leave. He let out a soft, but you could tell embarrassed, chuckle against the side of your head, the hand on your ass slipping back to your waist, his other hand finally letting your leg drop back to the ground.

“Something you need, Bagman?”

“Was just seeing if my hunch was right and you two wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off one another,” you tilted your head against Bob’s shoulder in order to fully look at your best friend, your death glare doing nothing to deter his smirk and wink. “As usual, I was right, given that you were well on your way to a misdemeanor. I think you two should be thanking me, this is all thanks to my brilliant foolproof plan for the day-”

“Seresin, I know you like hearing yourself talk, but if you interrupt me one more time I’m going to ride Bob right in front of you just to make sure you’re scarred for life,”

It was Bob’s turn to laugh, squeezing your waist gently with another kiss to the side of your head. Jake’s smirk only widened as he took his hand out of his pants pocket, tossing something in your direction. You let one of your hands leave Bob’s hair to catch what he’d thrown, both you and Bob looking down at your hand: Jake’s truck keys.

“No scratches, that’s all I ask. And no sex in the truck,” Jake sent another wink in your direction, shuffling backward toward where he’d come from. “Rooster is designated driver, Phoenix and I will just squeeze in with them. I’m sure I can keep them busy here for three…maybe four hours, if that’s enough time for you jackrabbits to get rounds 1 through 5 out of your systems. Just wrap it, please, I don’t feel like calling your mom and informing her that you’re pregnant anytime soon.”

You and Bob could only stare at the place in which Jake had just been standing for a moment in shock, trying to process what had just occurred. Then, you laughed, spinning the keys around in your hand.

“He’s a dick, but I guess he’s a good wingman…at least on the ground. Remind me to thank him-”

Bob’s hand was on your chin, tugging your face back to him as his lips moved headily against yours, swallowing the moan you didn’t even try to suppress as that bulge nudged against your thighs once more. Lust, love, adoration, need, it was all prevalent in the heated kiss as Bob pulled away, hot breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank him later. I’ve waited long enough to fuck you, flower,”

[mediumgayitalian]

"Could you be. Any rougher."

"I could be," says Reyna casually, only the ice in her tone is unmistakable and, also, she is exhausted. This is evident, because she is limping.

Reyna does not limp.

Once when she was very little, young enough memory's edges blur, she was up late. Wanting. The kind old woman who lived next door made pastelitos -- Reyna's favorite. Best when fresh. But her father had scowled as soon as he closed the front door, muttering to himself as he placed the pastries delicately on a little cake stand, as Reyna and her sister watched. Salivated, jaws clenched shut. Nodded when he snarled at them about keeping their grubby hands to themselves. Not for them, he made clear. For the people who earned his charming smile when they rang the doorbell, waltzing through the beautiful, dustless house.

She only wanted to have one -- one. She was sure he hadn't counted them. And she was a good climber.

She made it all the way up to the handle of the top cupboard before she ran out of footboards. There was a car horn, in the distance, when she fell; her first thought was relief because it had muffled the sound of her crashing to the floor. And then, when she tried to stand, her fist in her mouth muffled her shout of pain.

She walked on her shattered foot until she could not fit it into her shoe any more. Even then, her sister only knew when she broke and told her.

"Sorry," mutters Nico. He winces as she jostles him, tripping over a rock. He feels another lazy ounce of blood ooze from the tear in his side, and manages to avoid crying out only because he is worried about how slow it has become.

The palm he has pressed to the wound has lost all feeling.

"You sure we're close?"

Reyna's voice is gruff, and her face is ashen. The trail of dragged, bloody footprints behind them stretches several desert miles. Anyone -- anything -- tracking them wouldn't have to bother trying.

It is not empty desert. There are valleys, and small mountains. Shrubs. Rocks, on rocks. Nico trips on one, this time, and the jerk of his leg pulls on his side, tearing the hole in the fleshy part of his side even wider. He cries out, and stumbles, and is in too much blinding pain to stop himself from falling; Reyna's head swims at the movement, vision blurring, stomach swooping, and she goes down, too.

"Get up," Nico croaks, eventually. "We are not dying here."

Reyna does not respond.

"Get up!" Nico shouts. With great effort he wiggles an arm free and decks her, hard, in the shoulder, or as hard as he can manage as weak as he is. "You are not leaving me! Get the fuck up!"

"Quiet," she begs, and it is worse because he can hear the tears in her voice. His own throat wobbles. Reyna doesn't cry much, either. "Please, Nico, don't --"

"Okay," he says, hands shaking. "Okay, I'll be quiet. But you gotta get up, Reyna. Please." The terror bubbles up in his chest and he can't hold it down anymore. His eyes water, cleaning a trail down his cheek. "C'mon, luna. We've got -- half a mile left. I can't leave you behind."

She nods, eventually. Her eyes are still closed. But she gets up on shakey feet, and when the last of their meager breakfast has been expelled from her stomach, offers Nico a hand. He is warm, when he grabs it, too warm, and it scares her, but he is at least conscious enough to smile at her. Even if the blood in his teeth makes him look frightening.

"We don't have fucking insurance," Reyna mumbles, a few dozen agonizing feet later. "They won't -- take us."

Nico takes a moment to answer. His breathing has gotten worse. More ragged.

"They will," he manages, finally. The words are slurred, so it's closer to they'll. "They have to. I think." He huffs a dark laugh. "That or we bleed out in their emergency room, so."

Reyna does not laugh. She does not beg her mother -- she will not -- but she searches for strength within her anyway, for the tiniest burst of steel that will take them the last stretch to the hospital. They can see it, now; a pale, squat building that would be assumed a warehouse were it not for the giant blue H painted on its side, as if reassuring passers-by that it is, indeed, a place of medicine, even though it is smaller than some barns.

By some miracle -- or Fate, although the thought makes both their expressions sour -- they make it to the front doors. There is no further signage, but there are no other doors, either. They take a moment to catch breath, panting in syncopated dissonance, before shuffling inside.

"Take a number," drawls a voice. The person attached to the voice continues to work on a sudoku puzzle and does not look up when Nico and Reyna stare, not answering. "Today, please. Wait times are only getting worse."

Nico rips a number out of the plastic little holder. It falls to the ground. They step over it, struggling onto a plastic set of seats.

"I hope I don't actually die in an emergency room waiting area," Reyna mumbles, slouching into Nico's side. Her eyes close, and Nico's heart pounds, tapping frantically at her cheeks every time he loses sight of her black eyes. "I don't want to die in this outfit."

Nico glances down at the ripped, dirtied, bloodied mass of fabric covering her and laughs out loud. It hurts, and the tiny crowd of people huddled as far away from them as possible in the opposite end of the room jump. One even whimpers. He doesn't notice, or care.

"Not very you," he agrees, motioning to the t-shirt they picked up on their last stop, which is four sizes too big and reads, under the grime: ANNUAL TURKEY DOG GUZZLER CHAMPION 1994. Her shirt had been destroyed by Hydra acid in Arizona, and it was the first shirt they managed to grab from a Salvation Army before they'd been chased out by an angry woman with a broom. "You prefer beef dogs, if I remember correctly."

Reyna's eyes slide shut again, but she smiles. Nico finds her hand and squeezes it.

The wait takes hours. It is better, slightly, outside of the relentless sun, but there is no air conditioning, and it becomes clear quickly that both of them reek. And Nico is bleeding, still. And Reyna keeps dipping in and out of consciousness. And they are seasoned warriors, at this point. They have been questing for years, in and out of their respective camps, chasing monsters within the country and outside of it, for more than most demigods can claim. They can handle themselves and have been able to since they were teens. They're professionals, now.

But sometimes the gods like to remind them they're not infallible. Or, at least, this is Nico's theory, and Reyna says nothing when he mentions it, bitter over an open fire; but as much as her and her kin are no antagonists to the gods, not like the Greek are, she secretly agrees. Nothing makes sense, when you are a demigod, but stepping into a random abandoned warehouse in rural New Mexico, where a list of monsters in alphabetical order lay in genuine wait for them to appear -- they have enemies, yes.

But none were claimed, when they were attacked. The monsters were only smug, and they barely lived. They had been on a quiet quest, unadvertised, sanctioned only by Olympus.

"--heading out," calls a warm voice, muffled in distance from the stuffy waiting room. Nico is relieved to see Reyna blink, to adjust herself to mostly-upright against his shoulder. "See y'all tomorrow!"

A man follows this bright voice -- he is tall, and as warm as his drawling voice, despite the bags under his eyes. He stands with a looseness to his posture and his white coat makes his bronzed skin look darker, makes the thick blond curled frizzing around his head appear golden, even under the awful fluorescent lights. It is hard to look good in mint-green scrubs, but he manages; fills out the shirt nicely and is on just the right side of gangly, soft jaw making his squinted blue eyes look gentle. Smile-heavy. The worn white coat shifts as he lifts a hand to wave at whomever he was speaking to, and turns to the emergency room, smile still small and genuine on his face.

"Is that --" Reyna whispers.

"No way that is --" Nico says at the same time, because it's not, and it can't be; the sun is down, for one, and Apollo spends his nights either in clubs or in someone's bed and most certainly not working, even if he has come to help. And he is more angular, anyway, never having quite dropped the Spartan look to his features, and his hair is not quite so messy. He is not covered with a spattering of freckles, either, and his eyes are blue, yes, but not quite so dark; this man's are almost navy.

"Uncanny," Reyna mumbles. Nico huffs in agreement.

The handsome doctor waves at a young boy who picks at the peeling paint on the wall. The boy grins back, mangled arm pressed to his chest.

"You pinky swore to stay out of trees for a solid month, Alberto," the doctor chides. "I have your mama as witness and everything."

The woman next to the boy sighs. The boy grins, showing several missing teeth.

"I did!" he insists. "This time I fell off a playground! You shoulda seen the landing, Doctor Will. If I managed to stick it I woulda been recruited for the Avengers!"

The doctor laughs. It is low and snorting and -- ridiculous, honestly, the man covers his mouth only the voice cracks and snickers break through anyway. Nico's heart pounds. Reyna, close enough to hear it, snickers.

"Bet you wish you were in a better outfit too," she mumbles, snickering louder when Nico flushes, knowing he can't hit back.

"Shut up," he hisses, instead. "Go be concussed somewhere else."

But he keeps a firm hand on her elbow. And she doesn't go anywhere.

"Alright," finishes the doctor, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'm heading out, kiddo, Nurse Gianna will help you out. I hope I don't see you in here for a hot minute."

"Me and my bank account hope this also," mumbles the boy's mother. "And, yet."

The doctor snorts and sympathy and turns with a wave. His gaze sweep the waiting room and pause when they land on Nico and Reyna, tucked into each other in the far corner, having managed, for the most part, to keep the blood off the floor. Considerate of them, Nico thinks, honestly.

Those dark eyes widen, and his whole face erupts in a myriad of easily trackable emotions: shock, and then a little bit more shock, concern, fear, determination. And, chief among them, making Nico and Reyna straighten, look at each other warily: recognition.

"Mark," he hisses, warmth dropped from his tone. He whirls to face the impassive receptionist, who startles. "There's a fuc -- why didn't you call me? Immediately?"

Mark-the-receptionist glances for the first time over at the pair of them. His expression floods with guilt. "I didn't -- notice!"

"Dude!" says the doctor emphatically. "I'm gonna --" He stops and breathes deeply. He drags a hand down his face. Nico notices they are quite large hands and then forces himself not to notice. Reyna also notices, and laughs and laughs.

The doctor sighs, heavy, and takes his stethoscope back out of his pocket. He hangs it back over his neck, turns to Nico and Reyna, expressive face gone serious. The two of them sober immediately. "Clock me out, still," says the doctor wearily. "Don't tell Gianna and I won't tell on you, you fu -- freaking idiot."

The receptionist nods weakly. The doctor sighs again, and walks back through the doors at the other end of the room. After a moment, he appears again, brows furrowed.

"Well?" he says, looking directly at the pair. "C'mon, you two. Can you walk?"

Nico looks at Reyna, and she scowls, shoving him. "Of course I can walk," she mutters, to herself more than anything, and gets -- creakily -- to her feet. She veers as she stands, face going green, and Nico is quick to slip himself under her arm, under the guise of needing her support. She is not stupid, but looks at him gratefully. He sags into her touch.

There is not very far to follow the doctor. He leads them down a short hallway, checking on them every three seconds -- Reyna tries very hard not to chafe -- and into the first room on the right.

"I'm going to close the door," he says gently, "because people walking in here or overhearing could be very bad. But it doesn't lock, and I'll try and stay on the far side of the room."

It's an odd disclaimer at first, and Reyna isn't exactly sure why he says it -- but then she notices Nico let out a breath, notices his tiny nod. She realizes the own tension in her jaw, and the doctor's small, sympathetic smile. She watches as it shifts to something a little more teasing.

"Whatever keeps that sword from pointing at my throat," he says drily.

Both Nico and Reyna startle.

"What sword," Nico says carefully. But the doctor only raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly at the giant spike of Stygian Iron at Nico's hip, and the several knives tucked on Reyna's person, as well as her spear.

Nico and Reyna share a weighted look.

"You can see through the Mist, then," pokes Reyna, as the doctor preps something on the counter. They have met a couple mortals like this, in their travels -- most notably the Oracle that lives in the Greek camp, but here and there they've been in trouble as some teenager sees their weapons and screams at the top of their lungs.

"No clue what that is," says the doctor cheerfully. "But you two are not the first…warriors? That's I've had in here."

He turns back to face them. He has ditched his lab coat, and Nico is so distracted by the numerous tattoos obvious on his now-bare arms that he misses whatever he has clenched in his long fingers until the instruments are set gently on a sterile tray, the doctor gesturing to a bench.

"One at a time, okay? I can see blood coming from at least one of you and I want to treat that first, unless one of you is hiding a spine or head injury."

"She has a concussion," Nico says immediately, setting his jaw as Reyna scowls at him. "Her first."

"He is bleeding actively and has been for hours," she hisses, "him first."

"Her first," Nico insists. "Doctor's orders, head injuries take precedent."

"Yeah, cracked skulls. You and your thick head might not realize, but losing blood kills you pretty quick --"

"-- as if brain damage doesn't --"

"-- I'm fine! I can stand! I can see! I can --"

She steps closer, balled fists, or tries to. She falters and gags, nausea turning his stomach to churning lava, and would have thrown up on the scuffed floor if there was anything else for her to lose. Instead, she sways, and Nico tries to catch her, but the sudden movement of his arm makes him cry out.

"Freeze!" barks the doctor. "Both of you, cut it out."

There is no warmth in his tone -- only command. On reflex, or maybe because there is no strength left in their bodies, they stop moving, breathing heavy, hands shaking.

"Okay," says the doctor, gently as he can. "It doesn't help to get tense, yeah? You're stressed enough. I'll treat you both. You gotta trust me." He guides them both, hands light and gentle on either of their shoulders, up on the paper-covered bench. When they are settled he smiles softly, giving them a step of space. "I'm Will, and I'll be your doctor. I can feel that neither of you is at risk of severe brain damage or bleeding out or any kind of spinal injury paralysis, okay? You're hurt, but not desperately. All can be fixed."

Reyna ducks her head, meeting Nico's gaze out of the corner of her own eyes.

Feel?

"On the left," Will says, gesturing to Nico. "I gotta get you closed up before it worsens. The concussion is nasty --" he nods at Reyna -- "but that's a more long-term problem. Hang in there for a little bit, okay?"

She nods, and doesn't smirk smugly at Nico for two reasons. One, because if she moves too hard she'll pass out, and two, because Nico is gray and ashen, and reaches, in the space between them, for her hand. She curls their fingers together and squeezes lightly and does not promise she will be okay, but swears to herself that she will be anyway.

No more lost sisters, she mouths at him.

He hesitates, then nods.

Doctor Will -- he hadn't given them a last name, nor had the child in the waiting room addressed him by it -- is quick working and methodical. He cuts Nico's ruined shirt away from his torso, announcing every time he is about to touch bare skin. Gentle, too, but firm; he makes quick work of wiping the blood off Nico's skin so he can see what he's working with, and manages not to gag at the sight of the torn, inflamed skin, the oozing blood, the corrugated muscle and flecks of dirt and fabric. Reyna is not quite so skilled, and Will hands her a paper bag without looking.

"Damn," Will mumbles to himself, steadying his forceps against the edge of the wound, "somebody got your ass good."

It is probably not meant for Nico to hear.

Reyna laughs, but makes the mistake of looking again, and it turns quickly into a groan.

"You are not the one being operated on," Nico snaps, but it's more incredulous than anything. "Why are you whining."

"You should keep your insides to yourself," she mutters, still a little green. "That shit is disgusting."

Nico huffs -- "Stop that," Will commands, free hand on Nico's chest -- Nico stops breathing -- "Stop that too, preferably, I can't hear your heart right." -- hand still on chest -- Nico prays for death and then takes it back quickly when the first suture makes his vision swim -- and they fall into silence. His side hurts, his body hurts; Reyna's head pounds so hard she can't even feel the swelling bruise of her knee. They haven't slept in a couple days, at least, well before the attack in the warehouse. Nico is weak from his failed shadow-jump. Reyna is weaker from the strength she lent him.

It's a little easier to relax in this office, at least.

It must be Will's -- it's different in every conceivable way from the waiting area. From the hallway, even. The lights are too-bright still but they are offset by walls painted a deep green, not reflecting so harshly. Shades are pulled over the windows and its dark outside anyway, but the mere presence of windows makes it easier to feel like they are not going to die in a timeless prison. Drawn pictures and thank-you cards and grinning photographs are pinned all over the walls, and Doctor Will is hand-painted on a sign on the door in careful child's handwriting. This is not a place of despair, or even fear; the chair next to the bed for supportive family or friends is comfortable and not hospital issue, and there is music playing, almost imperceptively softly. The room -- or Will, Nico guesses -- smells slightly of lavender. This is a room where someone has worked very hard to make comfort a priority.

"Okay," Will says softly, pulling away. There are bones tattooed on his hands, Nico notices. They are covered in blood. Reyna notices that Nico is now breathing out of his dropped mouth and rolls her eyes. "I'm going to dress it now. Did Mark --" he scowls at the name -- "give you guys an intake form?"

Reyna and Nico shake their heads.

Will cusses.

Reyna and Nico try very hard not to laugh, except it's not that hard because it hurts to breathe.

"'Course he didn't," mutters Will darkly, "because he is a blight on this Earth."

Nico bites his lip hard.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go grab a couple, okay? I need to know about allergies and history and stuff before I treat you. I have an, um --" he falters -- "modified version for folks like yourself, it'll take me a minute to get them from the storage room. Hold tight."

He slips out of the room, closing the door behind him. Reyna waits until she can hear his footsteps fade before turning to face her best friend. He is looking, already.

"So," she says.

"So indeed," Nico agrees. "They're not usually so…competent."

"I'm sure more of them --" Mist-aware mortals, she means -- "are doctors than we would have guessed. When was the last time you went to a mortal hospital?"

"Uh." Nico ponders that for a moment. "I was born in one?"

"A century ago," she snorts. He scowls and flicks her. "That doesn't even count."

"Well, whatever. You most certainly haven't."

"I wasn't even born in one."

"So I have a leg up on you then!"

"You're arguing with me about nothing."

"You started it!"

She grins, and he grins back. There are still no returning footsteps, so she says: "We can't stay here."

"Obviously."

"What are the chances he's gonna give us some nectar and send us on our way?"

"Bad, probably," Nico guesses. His gaze slides over to the swollen goose egg on the back of her skull, and he brushes gentle fingers around the base of it. "Nectar can't fix everything, anyway," he says softly. "I think we're stuck, Rey." His face falls, guilt clouding his dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't punch him out of it, but only because she isn't entirely sure if he hurt his shoulder taking that hit for her, when she first went down, so instead she reaches calmly for his wrist, flips it over, and pinches him as hard as she can in the dead center of his palm.

"Fucking ow!" he shouts, dramatically loudly in her opinion. "What the fuck?!"

"Get all sentimental and sad on me like that again and I'll throw up in your hair," she promises. "You were gushing blood and losing ground, you fucking idiot. And canyons always fuck up your jumps. Stop apologizing."

He still looks guilty, but at least he nods. It helps that he keeps rubbing his palm and glaring at her.

"Fine," he concedes. "Whatever, she-demon. Let's just -- fix up, and then we'll figure it out."

"We can't stay in here," she reminds him. "You're a homing beacon and they hate me personally. I won't be bringing a horde of demons to a hospital."

He nods. Just then, the footsteps return -- hurried, Nico's lips quirk up -- and there is a rapping at the door, and it opens a crack.

"All good?" inquires Will, slipping in. "I got the files, moved as fast as I --" his leg brushes Nico's knee as he hustles past, and he pauses. He turns to face them both, eyes narrowed, hands on his hips. Nico freezes and has the sudden and long-buried feeling that he's in a principal's office. "Were you two roughhousing?"

Reyna's jaw drops.

"You are critically injured. In a hospital." Will shakes his head, face creased. "And you were roughhousing." He scoffs. "I have six year old patients who are less inclined to that nonsense, y'all, c'mon. Do I need to treat you separately?"

"No!" they blurt at the same time, meeting each other's eyes to mouth: how did he know??

"No, please, we'll be good," Nico promises, ignoring the flush that burns immediately across his cheekbones. "She just pinched me but I'm fine."

"Snitch," Reyna hisses.

"Enough," Will orders. His lips twitch, but they stop squabbling like schoolchildren. "Jesus. Y'all known each other a long time, huh?"

Reyna nods hesitantly. Will meets her eyes and smiles. "I could tell. Friends'a mine are the same way, been dating since middle school and you can tell. Sweet."

"Oh we're not --" Reyna begins.

"I gagged in my mouth just now --" Nico starts.

"We're not dating," Reyna says, at the same time Nico says, "I'm gay."

"He's an asshole, too," Reyna adds. "I'm a catch."

Will laughs loudly.

"You are!" Nico assures, voice cracking. It has been a long time since Reyna has seen his face so cherry red and she really takes the time to enjoy it. "She is, I'm just -- you know? Like --"

"Stop," Will begs, holding his stomach. "I get it, I get it, oh my God." He busies himself with grabbing a pen and sliding a couple pages on a clipboard. "I'm sorry for assuming, that's on me. You're both kind of equally jaw-dropping, so I just guessed."

Nico shuts down. There is actually a visible shutter in his eyes as his brain reboots itself. Reyna regards the doctor with an eyebrow raise.

"Is flirting very professional?"

"Not strictly," Will says with a grin, "but technically I'm off the clock."

Reyna scoffs and rolls her eyes. For her best friend's sake, she pushes forward. "Alright, Casanova. I guess I'm going first since he's still recovering."

A mask of detachment fits back onto Will's face, and he focuses on the sheet in front of him. Reyna answers his rattling questions -- full name, which he doesn't so much as twitch at, increasing her respect for him, date of birth, allergies, so on and so forth -- and pauses when he flips the page over and gets to a part she can see is hand-written and photocopied.

Not hospital standard.

"Okay," Will says, tapping his pen on the paper. "Do you know how much higher your blood count is than standard?"

Reyna pauses. "I do not."

He twists his face, jotting that down. "Damn. No one ever does, which is a shame because it's always higher in you guys but I can't get anything to a lab before Friday. Not that I would send it there unmanned. I mean I can't charm my way into the lab until Friday because that's when my ex works and he's sweet on me still. I'll just be cautious with dosage, I guess. Anyways."

Nico, who was just recovering, goes back under again. Reyna sighs, and pats him supportively on the shoulder.

"Are you more responsive to medicinal flora from Greece or Rome?" he pauses, tilting his head. "Or a secret third answer? There could be more, I guess, those're just the two I've noticed over the years."

That hikes Reyna's eyebrows up her forehead. It's an interesting enough observation that Nico sits forward, watching the doctor closely -- he is calm, totally, unbothered by their staring, or perhaps ignorant to the magnitude of his question. He knows much more than the average Mist-sensitive mortal, but not explicitly -- he did not ask who their godly parent was, or even which pantheon, even though there is no reason to be secretive about such a question. Just a startlingly accurate observation about what medicines will help them, and evidence of a search for why.

"Roman, for me," says Reyna slowly. "Greek for him."

"Okay," says Will, "excellent." He makes a couple more notes, asks a couple more questions, and then removes the paper with her info on it with a flourish and hands it to her. "Check it over, if you don't mind, while I do your friend."

Nico starts. He does a very admirable job of not reacting to Will's unfortunately casual sentence, even though Reyna's snickering disagrees with him. He also manages not to punch her which he feels should be worth some kind of award.

"Name?" Will asks, looking up through his eyelashes. They're very long, Nico notices. Very blond.

Nico swallows. "Uh, Nico. di Angelo."

"Pretty," Will says idly, jotting it down. He looks up and smiles. "'Of angels'. Suits you."

"Oh my gods," Reyna comments. Neither notices her, which she feels is upsetting because that was embarrassing for her to witness. "Is my name beautifully suiting me, too?"

"Next question," says Will quickly. He rattles off a list about family history and allergies -- "Aside from latex," he adds, although Nico does not remember mentioning that -- and gets quickly to the back of the paper. "Greek," he notes, remembering. He hums. "You look it, too. Anyway. Have you been stabbed before?"

"Few times," Nico acknowledges. "I, uh, don't respond well to healing, though. Most effective thing for me is something called unicorn draught and it's --"

Will tilts his head. "Silvery looking thing? Kind of oily in texture?"

"…exceedingly rare," Nico finishes, alarmed. "You…have it?"

"I have bandages that are treated in it," Will corrects. "Girl came by here last year with a pot of it. Healed her up nicely, and she let me dunk some of my supplies in it." He smiles sympathetically. "Whatever wack instant shit it can do -- I don't have that. But it should speed up what's normal, hopefully? I don't really understand it and I had nothing to compare it to under microscope, so I have genuinely no idea what it will do to you other than help. So."

Nico doesn't need to meet Reyna's eyes to know what she's thinking -- if the monster attack was on purpose, meeting with Will must be, too. Calling him a 'godsend' would be a little on the nose.

"Okay," Will says, collecting both their sheets and laying them on the counter. "Lemme finish examining y'all both, and I'll give you a verdict."

He's very meticulous, Doctor Will. He doesn't even need to ask where they're hurt, although he always asks for permission to touch, seemingly drawn to every wound and swollen break. In minutes he has every scratch catalogued across Nico's body, and has analyzed the severity of Reyna's concussion, prodded her fucked-up knee. They should go to mortal doctors more often, maybe. The wait sucks and Nico could do without the scent of hospital, but Will clearly knows what he's doing.

"The good news is that I can help you," Will says, pulling back from Reyna and tugging absentmindedly on his stethoscope. "I have a couple salves I worked up last week that'll help fix up your laceration, Nico, and Reyna -- your knee is broken pretty good but I can get the swelling down fast and I have a tonic that will encourage your bones back in place right. If you were anywhere else, you'd be stuck here for a good three months, the both of you."

"And the bad news?" Reyna asks. No use in dawdling.

"You are still stuck here," Will says apologetically. He holds up a hand at the immediate protest. "I know y'all don't like that kinda thing. Believe me, I have been yelled at enough." He meets both their eyes in turn. "For three weeks, though, you're stuck here. It takes time for medicine to work. And both of you are in pretty precarious spots, with either infection or worsened brain damage as a result of neglect."

They are silent, the both of them. Will frowns -- he must be expecting argument -- and adds:

"Don't like…escape into the night. Okay? I mean it when I say you'll die. Take it from someone who physically cannot lie, you are in danger if you go back to the wilderness. Or wherever y'all were."

Reyna and Nico turn to face each other. They can't actually communicate telepathically with each other but amuse themselves by pretending that they can -- they have been partners for almost longer than they haven't, really, and when you spend that much time on the road with someone, you get good at reading their face.

Reyna twitches her left eyebrow. Nico nods imperceptibly. Reyna clicks the nail on her third finger on her right hand. Nico blinks twice.

It's not a secret code or anything. Reyna's eyebrow is itchy and Nico is getting a little woozy. But the effect is great and they turn back to face the doctor in perfect unison, which is always funny to watch people squirm about.

"I'm not happy about the risk," Reyna admits. "But we refuse to stay here. And we don't have many other options."

"We can't even pay for this, technically," Nico says, and he probably shouldn't but -- Will clocked out to treat them. They are not the first, and Nico is not trusting, but he is not stupid, either. He can tell when someone is being genuine.

Reyna, who is not quite as attracted to Tall and Handsome, is more inclined to believe there is something trustworthy about someone so openly and generously knowledgeable. They owe him now, anyway. Their trust.

"Hm," says Will, rocking back on his heels. He blinks, seemingly realizing something, and almost jumps, beelining for the cupboards along the wall. "Oh, shit, I forgot to give you the -- goddamn medication, that's my bad --"

Reyna huffs a laugh, although strangely it took her a minute to notice, as well -- the pain in her head has already lessened, somewhat, just by Will's examination. Nico frowns thoughtfully, because part of it is his stitches, but the the stinging pain has gone down enough that he can feel the hurt in other places now, too. But that could be faded adrenaline.

Will is red-faced when he returns, glass bottle in either hand. "Sorry. I don't mean to be so scatterbrained." He pauses for a moment, considering, and upon deciding its safe adds hesitantly, "ADHD works for me usually, actually, makes me more perceptive in surgery -- and helps me focus, honestly, since it's complicated and interesting enough to keep me invested -- but I can get distracted at the smaller stuff." He huffs a laugh. "I do lose my keys every single day, though."

Nico does not need to be telepathic or even close to Reyna to know they are thinking the exact same thing -- her eyes are wide as his, and the alarm practically manifests between them in the form of a giant red exclamation point.

Nico opens his mouth, and Reyna knows what is going to come out of it -- she flicks his shoulder, shaking her head rapidly. He swallows his word back and nods reluctantly. She extends her finger, to ease his frustration, pointing at the labels on the glass bottles.

The writing is godawful, so it takes him a second, but after a moment of squinting he can puzzle it out: netel lor laurel; migraines + symptoms on the jar of bright green liquid, and honey akilea labelling the thicker paste.

Now, Will could just be a bad speller.

But Nico doesn't put much faith in coincidence.

Will doses Reyna's medicine first, and then busies himself with Nico's wound. Nico meets Reyna's eyes, relieved to find her as nervously contemplative as he is -- a lot of things are adding up very very quickly. Both of them feel leagues better than a few hours ago, but Nico can feel his own weakness, his own exhaustion. He is in no place to fight anything. He is in no position to ward off danger.

Danger always comes knocking, with the two of them.

Will complicates things even further.

"Okay," he murmurs, pulling away. "I hope y'all feel better." He shoots the both of them a small, winning smile, and even Reyna melts -- although slightly, she would like to make clear. She does feel better, anyway, and she can feel the relief pouring off Nico in waves. "Next step is rest. And food. And maybe, like, a shower? I won't ask where y'all've been --"

Both Nico and Reyna graciously refrain from commenting on the triple contraction. They do note it. Reyna bites her lip.

"-- but, and no offense meant, I've met pigs in a pen with less mud on 'em. We gotta get you cleaned up."

"Offense taken," Nico grumbles. "We're not that bad."

"Should've seen Albania," Reyna agrees. And then, at Nico's grimace: "…Sorry for bringing it up."

"…Anyways," Will says pushing through the awkward air. "It's after midnight. I know a couple'a nearby motels, but they ain't open this late."

Nico picks at a thread torn loose from his jeans. Fuck. He knows where they are -- mostly -- and knows they are nowhere near any kind of safehouse. They could break into a motel, probably, but it means one of them is on guard at all times -- Nico doesn't have the strength for that, and neither does Reyna. They need sleep and they need sleep yesterday.

Nico straightens, color draining from his face as he remembers: Reyna has a concussion, and a nasty one. She needs constant monitoring, or she could literally fall into a coma and die. And die, fuck, what are they going to do, they're out of money and out of drachmas and Nico can't shadow travel and they're nowhere near --

"That's a myth," Will interrupts gently. He puts a warm hand on Nico's knee, and it is then that he realizes he's hyperventilating. "Breathe, darlin'."

This does not help.

"She actually needs to sleep quite a lot right now." He nods at her. "I've checked her, she's not at great risk for a coma unless she smacks her head against something else. Or makes her way to a roller coaster." He eyes them warily. "Please don't make your way to a roller coaster."

Nico, dazed, murmurs his promise. Reyna reaches over until she has her hand on top of both of his twitching ones, and, smiling wryly, promises to avoid them as well.

"If you're lookin' for someone to keep an eye out, though," Will says. "I can help."

Reyna shakes her head. She's pleased to find she can do so and it only hurts on a level 6, rather than the extreme level ten plus some it was earlier. "Like we said -- we can't stay here, Will. It's not safe for anyone else."

Will inclines his head. "I believe you. I meant -- my apartment is a two-bedroom." He bites his lip. "It's not ideal, and, I mean, it would deeply suck for me if this was some very elaborate serial murder set-up, but I can't just leave y'all out to suffer." He grins. "My mama'd whoop my ass if she heard. Not very hospitable of me, I imagine."

Reyna opens her mouth to protest.

Nico squeezes her hand. "I don't love it," he says lowly. "But I -- I'm tired, Rey."

It takes a lot for Reyna to remember Nico is younger than her. It hasn't mattered since they were -- well, it hasn't really mattered ever. Nico is nothing if not exceptionally competent, unbelievably powerful; but he's human, too, and he watched her get her head bashed on concrete until she didn't get back up again. He's been twitchy, braver than he can afford, since then, dark eyes bloodshot and blown-wide and tracing rapidly over every new space, scanning every potential threat. He's been on for too long. For a moment he looks at her and he is scared, and she sees the face of the fourteen year old who was still trapped in that bronze jar, in his mind, and who sometimes didn't know where he was.

"Alright," she relents. She turns her gaze squarely to Will. "I've killed people," she says shortly. "Dying and maimed. It doesn't matter how concussed I am. Don't assume I've let my guard down."

Will steps ever so slightly away, but there is a smile on his face, still.

"I'd expect nothing less," he says lightly. "Let me help."

Reyna swallows, and Nico sighs. Together, hands clenched, they agree.

-- -- --

next

[snail-day]

Tw: Yandere, Crack fic, mentions of blood and a knife, pet play??? Pathetic gojo?

Yandere Homeless! Gojo, who’s clearly unwell but also painfully pretty under all the dirt and grime. He’s practically vibrating with excitement when you finally open the front door of your apartment, pupils blown wide like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“Oh my god,” he gasps. “You’re even prettier up close. You’re so cute. Can I be your dog?”

You blink. “What?”

“Please,” he’s panting now, genuinely, looks like he's about to go on all fours. “I’ll be so good. I’ll sit at your feet, I’ll eat scraps, I’ll sleep on the floor, I’ll bark when strangers come near - fuck, I’ll even wear a collar if you want me to - that's hot as fuck. With a leash too - ”

“Absolutely not,” you say, already trying to close the door.

But he jams his foot in. Bare foot. Disgustingly wet from god-knows-what. “Pleasepleaseplease don’t send me away,” he whines, baby blue eyes darting to look inside your apartment. “I can protect you! I’ve got instincts, baby. I bite.”

He smiles. Too many teeth. Far too many for your liking.

You back up. “Okay. So I’m calling the cops.”

But before you can reach for your phone, he lifts his foot.

He’s standing on it. Your phone. It’s already under him. Cracked. You really don't know how. Unless he planned it all.

“Oh,” he coos, looking down. “Oopsie.”

You look at the knife in his hand. It’s… not clean.

He notices you staring and tilts his head. “You don’t have to be scared. That’s not your blood.”

“That’s not helping.”

“Want it to be?” he chirps, and then, he giggles. A full giggle. Like this is date night and you’re playing hard to get.

You’re frozen. Half in fight or flight. Calculating your next move, yet somehow he's tall enough to block your entire exit.

He steps fully into your home, whistling under his breath. “So, where do I put my dog bed? Or do I just curl up under your bed like a good little mutt?”

You don’t know what to say as he's backing you into a corner. Beaming. Reaching for your face and you're almost certain you're going to die here.

This is what he looks like btw:

[elryuse]

Manifesting

Gaeul X Male Reader

Tags : Toxic Relationship, Trauma, Cheating, Breakup, Romance, Dark Romance, Obsession, Yandere, Psycho, Angsty Words : 5,359 Words

It was a hard few weeks after your sad break up with your long lasting girlfriend, named Gaeul. She was your sweet sweet angel, she was caring, soft and charming. But that all changes when she be friends with some girls, who slowly changes her, and before you know it, She was lost, gone, turned into something different.

She started to ghost you, neglected you, and worst of all she cheated on you. You caught her, there, red handed, having sex with a guy you didn't know at all. You try to talk her up, but she got angry instead, slapping your face, marking it red as the shape of her palm.

You stood there silent, not knowing why this shit even happened to you. But all you know and understand is that She's not the Gaeul you know. With that, Your face turns cold, Gaeul didn't move, she closes the door as she continues to have sex with the man.

And with that, You left. You left the room, the house, and most importantly you left her. For good.

As time goes bye, You started to fix your life for the better. The first few weeks of the breakup was straight up hell, as you tried your best to forget the good memories you have with her. However, the memories kept flooding in. The time you said you loved her, the times you went on dates. It slowly come back to haunt you.

However, you started to get more active, get to know other people, and slowly you started to get back on track. As slowly, you started to find hobbies and stuff to do with other people. It was actually fun. A breathe of fresh air.

But one day, Those moments gonna haunt you again. As one night, out of nowhere, you met her again. Gaeul. She was standing outside your apartment, smoking a piece of cigarettes, as she ruffled up her blonde hair. You both looked at each other, before Gaeul throw away her cigarette, as she smiled.

"It's been a while".

You were shocked, timid, not knowing why is she here. Again. Out of anybody else that could be here. Why does it have to be her.

"What do you want" You asked.

"C'mon is that really what you have to say to me. I know that you missed me pabo. Let me in, I have a ton of thing's to say babe".

"Babe? Babe!? Are you fucking with me Gaeul. We're not together anymore. Get lost, before I call the cops". You angrily shouted, clearly still not accepting what the hell is even going on right now.

"Why are you mad… Besides, We didn't even break up. You're the one who left me". Gaeul rolled her eyes, as her body rested on the walls.

"Yeah but you're the one who's fucking a guy Gaeul. Not me. So go away. I already moved on. So stop bothering me". You try shutting the door.

"W-wait. P-please. Alright alright I'm sorry. Look. I was young. I was dumb. My friends were the one encouraging me to try new stuff. I was carried away alright. So please. Just liste-".

"Look Gaeul. It's your choice. You choose to fuck someone else. And you also choose him over me. You slapped me and closes the door on me remember. You didn't even text me about how sorry you were. So stop pretending like you care. And please. Stop bothering me, And leave".

As you closes the door, Gaeul seemed to be shutted down. Her face was unreadable, as slowly a small tear runs from her face. She looked, Sad. Filled with Regrets? You don't know why but she looked desperate about something.

"P-please. Y-y/n. I really don't know where to go. Everyone.. They.. All bullied me, and I really don't know where to go. P-please. Can I stay at your place, just for a night"?

You should have said no. You should just closes the door on her. But some how, you just can't seem to do it. You just can't seem to act harsh on her. And with that you opened the door for her.

"Get in. Fast".

Hearing those words, Gaeul face immediately lit up. She immediately ran and hug you, as she cried all of hearts out. You were not sure whether to comfort her, or just stay still, so you decided to just let her cry for awhile.

You then let her sleep on the couch, as you were about to take a shower. Your mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts as you didn't sure what to do, especially after seeing her again. You sighed, as you hit your head, thinking why would you let her in the first place.

Suddenly you hear a knock from outside the bathroom. It was her.

"Y-y/n. C-can I come in"?

"Wtf you mean, can I come in. Stay out. I'm almost done".

You wipe the water off your face, staring into your foggy bathroom mirror. The knock still echoes in your ears.

“Y/n… please. Just let me talk to you… just for a minute,” her voice quivers, yet there’s something off about it. It’s too soft. Too controlled.

You grip the towel tighter. "No, Gaeul. You said one night. Just—give me space.”

There’s silence for a few seconds.

Then she chuckles.

“Space? After everything we've been through? You let me in, and now you're pushing me away again?”

You freeze. That tone. It wasn’t pleading anymore. It was colder. Possessive.

You open the door slightly—just a crack. “You’re making this weird. Go back to the couch. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

But she’s already right in front of the door. Close. Too close. Her eyes puffy from crying, her lips trembling, her fingers tightly holding the edge of her shirt as if she was suppressing something explosive inside her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispers. “Not when you’re just a wall away. It made me think of the nights I used to fall asleep on your chest. You remember that?”

You sigh and step away from the door. She takes that as an invitation, stepping in without permission.

“Gaeul, I told you—”

She suddenly wraps her arms around your waist from behind. The towel nearly slips. Her forehead leans against your back.

“I missed you. I’ve been so… lost. Without you, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I did bad things. But I never stopped loving you. Never.”

You stay silent. Because deep down, there’s a twisted ache in your chest. A part of you still remembers her kisses. Her laugh. The way she used to hold your hand like it meant everything.

But this isn’t her anymore.

You step forward, breaking the hold.

“Gaeul, go sleep. Please. Don’t make me regret letting you in.”

She stares. Hurt. Confused. Angry. Her lips tremble again, but this time it’s not sadness. It's frustration.

“I gave you my everything… and now you treat me like garbage.”

You glance back. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. “I made a mistake. People fuck up. But I chose to come back. I chose you again.”

“Too late.”

You walk past her. Grab some clothes. The air between you two is suffocating.

She remains still, standing in the bathroom, staring blankly at the wall.

You hear the door creak shut as she returns to the living room.

You wake up around 3AM, heart pounding. Something feels off.

You walk to the kitchen. The couch is empty.

“Gaeul?”

No answer.

You check your bedroom.

She’s there.

Lying on your bed, wearing one of your shirts.

Your chest tightens.

“Gaeul. What the fuck are you doing?”

She turns slowly, as if expecting you. Her eyes gleam beneath the dim light. A sickly, satisfied smile spreads across her face.

“I couldn’t sleep… I felt cold… I needed you.”

You glare. “This isn’t okay. You’re crossing boundaries.”

“I know your body better than anyone else. I know how warm it gets when you’re upset. How quiet you become when you’re trying to hide your sadness. You think I don’t see that? You haven’t moved on. You're pretending.”

You back up slightly, disturbed. “Get out of my bed.”

“No.” Her tone is dead serious now. “I belong here.”

She sits up.

“I let my friends poison me. I know. But they’re all gone now. They cut me off. They talked shit about me behind my back. And that guy? He left. He never even remembered my birthday. I was stupid.”

“That doesn’t mean you can crawl back like nothing happened—”

“I HAVE NOTHING LEFT!” she screams suddenly. You flinch.

Silence follows.

Then a whisper: “Except you.”

She reaches under the blanket. Pulls out… your phone?

“I saw your messages,” she says. “With that girl. Minji, right? She's just a rebound. She doesn’t know you like I do.”

You feel your heart sink.

“Where’s my phone—how the hell did you—”

“I watched you sleep. You looked peaceful… So I wanted to check. And guess what? I was right. You're still broken. Still looking for me in everyone else.”

“That’s it. You're leaving. Now.”

You grab her wrist. Not hard. But firm. Her eyes widen—not in fear, but in thrill.

“Touching me again, huh? You still want me. Just admit it.”

“Get out, Gaeul. Or I will call the police.”

Suddenly she grabs your hand with both of hers, gripping tightly.

“I’ll kill myself if you do.”

You freeze.

Dead silence.

She smiles. Twisted. Tired. “I'm serious. You were the only good part of me. If I leave this apartment, I won’t walk home. I’ll jump off a bridge.”

Your throat dries. “Stop it…”

Tears pool in her eyes again. “Then let me stay. Please. Let me stay until I’m better. Let me fix what I destroyed.”

You hate how conflicted you feel. You know this is wrong. You know she’s manipulating you. But that look in her eyes—the same eyes that once stared at you like you were her whole world—breaks something in you.

“…Fine,” you mutter. “One more night. But you sleep on the couch.”

She giggles.

It wasn’t a joyful laugh. It was broken. Hollow.

“I knew you'd come back to me.”

She kisses your cheek.

And leaves the room.

You lock your bedroom door that night.

But even through the door…

You still hear her humming a lullaby she used to sing when she laid on your chest.

It doesn’t comfort you anymore.

It terrifies you.

You barely sleep that night. Every creak of the wood, every gust of wind against the windows makes your heart jolt.

She's still here.

Even though the couch is supposed to be her place for the night, a part of you fears waking up to find her standing at the foot of your bed. Watching. Smiling.

But the sun eventually rises.

You blink the exhaustion out of your eyes and check your bedroom. Empty. Quiet.

Carefully, you step out.

To your surprise, the living room is empty. The couch is made. Neat. Like she’d never slept there at all.

You turn toward the kitchen and see her.

Gaeul.

Wearing your hoodie. Cooking eggs.

She turns with a bright smile, as if everything’s normal. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I made breakfast! Just like old times, right?”

You’re speechless. Tired. Emotionally drained.

“Gaeul, I told you—”

Ding-dong.

You stop.

Your front door just rang.

Before you can even move, Gaeul turns her head. Her expression darkens in an instant.

“…Are you expecting someone?”

You walk to the door. Peek through the peephole.

It’s Minji.

Wearing a warm beige cardigan over a white sundress, her eyes sparkling with excitement, a small coffee tray in hand.

You blink.

She notices you and waves softly, smiling.

You open the door.

“Hey,” she says gently, “I’ve been waiting outside for a few minutes, didn’t wanna wake you… I brought coffee.”

“Minji?”

“Yeah… I was wondering… if you wanted to grab breakfast or maybe walk around the park with me?” she says, shyly looking down. “Just something small. You’ve been working so hard. I thought you could use some sunshine.”

You smile—genuinely—for the first time in what feels like forever. “That… sounds nice, actually.”

But then—

“Who’s that?”

Her voice slices through the air like a razor.

Minji blinks.

Gaeul is standing behind you, barefoot, sleeves rolled up, spatula still in hand, wearing your hoodie like it belonged to her.

Her eyes are locked on Minji like she’s prey.

“Oh,” Minji blinks, “I didn’t know you had… someone over. I’m sorry—”

“We’re not together,” you interrupt quickly. “She just… showed up last night. It’s complicated.”

Gaeul suddenly steps forward, resting her hand on your shoulder—possessively.

“I’m Gaeul,” she says, eyes narrowing at Minji. “His first. The one who knows what he really needs. And who are you?”

Minji’s expression shifts—still polite, but her smile dims a little. “I’m Minji. I go to the same campus. We’ve been hanging out… and talking.”

Gaeul laughs bitterly. “Hanging out? Wow. That’s cute.”

You sigh. “Enough.”

Minji glances at you. “If now’s a bad time, I can leave…”

“No,” you say firmly. “You don’t have to. I said I’d go with you.”

Gaeul’s hand tightens on your shoulder.

“You’re leaving me here?” she asks softly. “After last night? I cried on you.”

You turn. “You’re not my girlfriend anymore, Gaeul. You asked for a place to sleep. That’s it.”

Her mouth opens. But before she can say anything else, you step outside and close the door behind you.

Later that evening…

You had a good time with Minji.

A real good time.

You didn’t think laughter could come so easily again. Her presence was calm, healing. You told her about your break-up. She didn’t pity you. She didn’t push. She just… listened.

When she finally walked you home, she hesitated at your door.

“I know you’re still healing,” she said, “But I like being around you. I just wanted you to know that. I’m not here to play games.”

You looked at her. Her eyes didn’t lie.

“Thanks,” you said. “That… really means a lot.”

She smiles, and with a small wave, walks off.

You breathe.

Then step inside.

The moment you close the door—

CRASH.

You flinch.

A cup lies shattered on the floor. Gaeul’s standing there, tears in her eyes, cheeks red with fury.

“You LIKED her, didn’t you?”

You stay silent.

“DIDN’T YOU!?”

“Gaeul—”

“After everything I told you? After crying in your arms? After begging for a second chance?! You go out with that—that—fake-ass bimbo!?"

“She’s not fake. And she didn’t hurt me like you did.”

You walk past her.

But she grabs your wrist. Hard.

“She’s going to hurt you. Like I did. Worse. She’s gonna take your kindness and stab you with it, just like I did. I know girls like her.”

“Gaeul—let me go.”

She shakes her head violently.

“No! You’re not doing this to me. You can’t just throw me away again. I came BACK for you. I chose you. I gave up everyone. Everything. And now you smile at someone else!?”

You rip your arm away.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

She falls silent.

Her eyes go wide. For a moment, she looks like a doll—cracked porcelain, ready to shatter.

Then her lips curl into a dark grin.

“You think she can protect you from me?”

You stop.

“What?”

“I meant it when I said I’d kill myself if you left me, Y/n.”

She steps closer.

“But maybe… she should go first.”

You stare at her, chilled to your bones.

“Gaeul… don’t you dare.”

She laughs softly. Her fingers trail your chest as she whispers:

“You don’t know how far I’m willing to go for you. But you will. Soon.”

It had been three days since that night.

Three days since Gaeul shattered a glass on your floor and swore she'd hurt Minji.

You hadn't heard from Minji since then.

Your texts—left on read.

Calls—unanswered.

You assumed she was just busy… or maybe she felt something was off. You couldn’t blame her.

Gaeul, however, was still here.

Still lingering in your apartment like a curse you couldn’t exorcise.

Every night, she cooked. Cleaned. Acted like she was your girlfriend again. She wore your clothes. Sat close to you. Slept on the couch but would sneak glances into your room every night like a cat waiting for a door to open.

Tonight, something felt different.

You returned home after a late class. The lights in your apartment were dimmed—intentionally.

A soft scent of jasmine floated in the air. You squinted.

There were candles… lit in the living room.

Your heart sank.

You step further in, cautiously. “Gaeul?”

"I'm here," her voice called out softly. Sultry. Dangerously warm.

You turn—and stop.

She's standing by your bedroom door.

Wearing your white button-up.

Only the white button-up.

Unbuttoned halfway down her chest, just enough to tease the curve of her breasts. Bare legs. Hair tied loose. Lips tinted with deep red gloss. Her eyes half-lidded with something… dark. Desperate.

"Gaeul, what are you doing?"

She slowly walks forward, swaying like a predator who knows you're caught in her trap.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she whispers. “So I thought I’d remind you why you used to crave me.”

“Don’t—”

She presses a finger to your lips. Silencing you.

“Shhh… I’m not here to fight.”

She steps closer. The shirt brushes against your chest as her body heat presses into you.

“I’m here to make you feel again.”

Her hand trails down your chest. To your stomach. Then down, lower—

You grip her wrist tightly. “Stop this.”

But your voice is weaker now. Your breathing shallow.

Her eyes sparkle.

“You say you’ve moved on… but your body’s still honest.”

“Gaeul—this isn’t going to fix anything. We’re broken.”

She smiles. “Then let’s break even more.”

Before you can speak, she slides down to her knees, slowly. Holding your gaze the entire time.

You curse under your breath, stepping back.

“Gaeul, stop playing games.”

She bites her lip, standing again. This time, she unbuttons the rest of the shirt and lets it slip off her shoulders.

Bare. Fully.

No shame. No hesitation.

“Do you remember the first time we did it?” she whispers, stepping closer again. “You were nervous. Shaky. And I kissed every inch of you until you stopped trembling.”

Your fists clench.

“And when you told me you loved me, I cried while we made love. Remember that?”

You shut your eyes.

“Stop it. Just stop.”

But she’s already guiding your hand to her waist. Skin against skin. Her breath hot against your neck.

“Touch me like you used to, Y/n. Please. Let me feel like yours again.”

Your head spins.

And for a moment—

Just a brief, dangerous moment—

You miss her.

You remember her laugh. Her moans. Her scent. Her warmth.

Your hand grips her waist.

She leans in to kiss you.

And you freeze.

Because just behind her…

Your phone lights up.

Minji: “Hey. Sorry I went quiet. I just… felt something was off. But I miss you. Can we meet soon?”

Your blood turns cold.

You step back.

“I can’t.”

Gaeul’s smile fades. Her eyes twitch slightly. “W-what?”

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I can’t.”

You grab your shirt and step toward your room.

“Put something on, Gaeul. This… this isn’t right.”

She doesn't move.

Just stands there, naked, rejected, breathing heavily.

“…It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

You pause.

“You’re choosing her over me.”

“Because she didn’t destroy me,” you say quietly.

That’s when her smile dies completely.

“I see.”

She walks past you, slowly. Picks up her clothes. Dresses in silence.

You think, maybe—maybe—she’s finally going to leave.

But just before she walks out the door, she turns.

Her voice is calm. Too calm.

“You better hope Minji really likes you.”

You narrow your eyes.

“What?”

“Because if she doesn’t? If she even thinks of hurting you?”

She grins.

“I’ll make her bleed.”

But tonight, everything changes.

It had been two weeks since you pushed Gaeul away.

She disappeared after that night. No calls. No knocking at your door. No more haunting gazes from the corner of your room.

You thought maybe… she was finally gone.

Meanwhile, things with Minji felt like they were getting better. At least, that’s what you believed.

You went on little walks. Laughed together. Held hands.

She smiled often. She touched your arm. She told you she missed you when you weren’t around.

You let yourself believe again.

But deep inside, something felt off.

And you were right.

Tonight. 9:47 PM.

You were walking near campus when you saw her.

Minji.

At the back corner of a cafe, laughing with her friends—Hanni and Haerin.

You smiled at first, thinking about surprising her.

But then—

You heard your name.

Your actual name.

And your smile fades.

You stop. Hide behind a pillar. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.

But you hear it.

You hear everything.

“So? Are you still ‘dating’ him?” Hanni asks, holding back laughter.

Minji giggles. “Dating? Oh my god, please. That’s such a strong word.”

“Girl, you’ve been holding his hand and giving him puppy eyes like it’s your job,” Haerin teases.

Minji rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her iced Americano. “Whatever. It’s not like I actually like him. You guys dared me, remember?”

Hanni gasps. “Oh my god, you still remember that?”

Minji smirks. “Of course. I lost the game, remember? You dared me to flirt with the loner boy. The one with the clingy ex? I couldn’t say no.”

Haerin laughs. “And now you’re full-on fake dating him. Girl, you're dedicated.”

Minji shrugs. “I thought I’d get bored after a few days. But he's so sad. I mean, who lets their cheating ex stay in their house? And then thinks I’m actually into him?”

All three burst into laughter.

“If I were a normal girl,” Minji says, smirking, “I would’ve blocked him the moment I saw that psycho ex lurking around.”

She takes another sip.

“But I guess I’m not that normal. He’s… entertaining.”

You feel your heart collapse.

Your world just folds in on itself.

You step back, unable to breathe.

She lied.

It was all fake.

Every smile.

Every gentle word.

A dare.

You turn, storming off. Your chest is burning. You can’t believe how fucking stupid you were.

But what you don’t know is—

You weren’t the only one listening.

Across the street. Hidden in the shadows.

A figure stands beneath a flickering lamppost.

Gaeul.

She had followed Minji for days. Watching her routines. Following her walks. Even slipping into the same cafes, silent like a ghost.

She had seen everything.

Heard everything.

And now…

She smiles.

No.

She giggles.

Quiet at first.

Then louder.

Her hand lifts to her lips, as her laughter spirals into something unhinged.

“You hurt him… you played with him,” she whispers to herself.

Her nails dig into her palm, drawing blood.

“After all the pain he went through, you made it worse… for a game… for fun…”

She tilts her head to the side.

“I should thank you… You reminded him why he needs me.”

Her eyes glaze over with affection. Obsession. Rage.

“I’m the only one who really knows him.”

She stares at Minji through the window, eyes dark and glimmering.

“He won’t forgive you.”

She turns. Walks away, softly humming the tune of a song you and her used to love.

But before she disappears into the darkness, she whispers—

“Minji… you’re gonna regret this.”

Later That Night…

You come home, throw your phone across the room.

You don’t even cry.

Just sit. Alone.

Hollow.

Then.

You hear it.

A soft knock on your door.

Your heart clenches.

You move toward it. Slowly. Dreading. Hoping. Fearing.

You open it.

And there she is.

Gaeul.

Hair messy. Face flushed. Hands shaking—but her smile calm and gentle.

Like nothing ever happened.

“I saw everything,” she whispers. “She was lying.”

You stare at her, speechless.

She steps forward. Her hand cups your cheek.

“I told you,” she says, voice soft as silk. “She’d hurt you. Just like I did.”

“But I would never lie like that again. Never.”

Her eyes lock with yours.

“I’m all you have now.”

And before you can speak—

She hugs you.

Warm.

Familiar.

Deadly.

A few days later.

The campus was buzzing.

Nothing unusual.

Until the whispers started.

It was during a break between classes when it happened.

The outdoor café near the main hall—crowded, full of students chatting, drinking iced coffee, scrolling through their phones.

Minji sat at a table with Hanni and Haerin, her usual crew. Laughter echoed from their corner, as always.

She looked perfect.

Smiling. Confident. The sun kissed her blonde hair just right. Her lips glossed in cherry red. She was untouchable.

Or so she thought.

Then—

A paper fluttered down in front of her.

Then another.

And another.

The wind wasn’t carrying trash.

It was carrying screenshots.

Printed. Clear. High-quality.

Your name.

Her name.

Her texts.

“Y/n~ where are you? I miss you 😘” “Are you asleep? Can’t stop thinking about our walk today 😳” “Don’t ignore meeee. Come outside, I bought us snacks 😩” “I wanna hear your voice before I sleep please call me 🥺”

One by one, the papers covered her table. Her friends stared, blinking. Some students stopped walking, confused.

Whispers started to grow louder.

Minji’s smile faded.

“What the hell is this?” she muttered, her hands trying to gather the papers.

More fell from above, like snow. From the balcony above.

And then—

She appeared.

Gaeul.

Black skirt. White blouse. No smile.

Just rage and elegance.

She descended the stairs slowly, like an actress in a play she wrote herself.

Gasps spread through the students who recognized her—your infamous ex.

“What are you doing?” Minji hissed as Gaeul stepped into the center of the circle now forming around her.

“What am I doing?” Gaeul laughed. “You’re the one who started playing with people’s feelings.”

She held up one of the printed screenshots.

“This doesn’t look like a dare to me. It looks like you were the one chasing.”

Minji’s face turned pale.

Hanni stood up. “Who the hell are you—”

Gaeul didn’t even look at her.

She was focused. Predatory.

“You liked him, Minji. You really liked him. Don’t act like you didn’t. You texted him first. You called him. You begged him to stay up and talk.”

She threw another handful of papers onto the table.

“You were obsessed. Just like me.”

“Stop,” Minji said, voice shaky. “You’re insane.”

Gaeul’s smile turned cold.

She walked to the side table. Picked up a full cup of iced Americano that someone left.

And without hesitation—

Splash.

The cup emptied all over Minji’s pristine top.

Gasps echoed through the crowd.

Minji jumped up, gasping. The cold soaked her shirt instantly, making the white fabric nearly transparent.

Her hair stuck to her face. Her mouth opened in horror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Gaeul stepped close. So close their noses nearly touched.

Her voice dropped into a whisper only they could hear.

“I’m not the one who played with someone’s heart.”

She pulled back, eyes unblinking.

“You’re the joke here, Minji. Because you thought he was just another lonely loser. But he’s not. He’s mine.”

She turned to the crowd.

“Let this be a reminder,” she said, calm and venomous. “You don’t mess with love just to get a laugh.”

She dropped the final piece of paper onto the wet table.

A photo.

Minji and you. On that first walk. Her holding your hand. Smiling genuinely.

Then she walked away.

And Minji?

She stood frozen.

Wet. Humiliated. Her hands clenched at her sides.

Because Gaeul was right.

She did like you.

Too much.

And now she lost you—and her dignity—in front of everyone.

Later That Night…

You sit on your bed.

Silent.

Then a knock.

You already knew who it was.

You open the door.

Gaeul stands there, smiling softly, a little victorious glow in her eyes.

“You saw it?” she asks, brushing her hair behind her ear.

You nod.

She steps inside.

“I did it for you,” she says quietly. “Because no one gets to treat you like that.”

“I don’t know if what you did was right…” you murmur.

She tilts her head.

“But it felt good, didn’t it?”

You don’t answer.

You’re not sure anymore.

She walks close, rests her head on your chest.

And whispers,

“She doesn’t deserve to be near you. Only I do.”

You close your eyes.

And realize…

You don’t know if you’re still angry.

Or starting to belong to her again.

The next few days pass in a blur.

You don't really go out anymore.

Your phone stays mostly silent, except for one consistent name.

Gaeul.

She texts you good morning. She cooks you meals. She cleans your apartment. She holds you when you can't sleep.

You didn’t ask for her to move in, but somehow, her things are there now—neatly arranged. Her toothbrush beside yours. Her shirts folded in your drawers. Her scent lingers on your bed.

At first, you thought you’d push her away again. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Because she’s different now.

She doesn’t raise her voice. She smiles softly, with that old warmth you used to love. And most of all—she listens.

When you’re tired, she rubs your shoulders.

When you’re quiet, she plays your favorite songs.

And when you wake up from nightmares—of that day you saw her with another man—she holds you tight, whispering, "I'm still here… I'm not going anywhere."

Little by little…

You stop questioning her presence.

You start to need her again.

One night. Rain taps against the window.

You sit on the edge of your bed. Staring at the wall. Silent.

Gaeul walks in with two mugs of hot chocolate.

She sits beside you, curling her legs beneath her.

"You okay?" she asks softly.

You nod. But your voice is hollow. "I don’t know what’s right anymore."

She hums. Then leans her head on your shoulder.

"You don’t have to know," she says. "You just have to trust me."

She looks up, eyes big and watery.

"You’ve always been the soft one. The kind one. But people like her… they take advantage of that."

You look down.

She places her hand on your chest.

"But I won’t."

Your heart skips.

"I already hurt you once. And it kills me to think about it. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your fingers twitch.

"And you’ll realize soon… that I’m the only one who truly loves you."

And you believe her.

Even if you shouldn’t.

Meanwhile.

Minji sits alone on her bed.

Phone in hand.

Your chat still open.

No new replies.

Y/n… please just talk to me. I know I messed up. I really did like you. It started as a game but… I never thought I’d feel something.

No response.

Tears gather at her lashes.

She scrolls through her own messages—the ones she sent in the past. The ones Gaeul exposed. The ones that betrayed her.

I miss you already 🥺 You’re not like the other guys… you’re special.

Back then, she meant them. She did.

But now?

You were gone.

And worse—

She had handed you back to her.

To the girl she thought was just a clingy ex.

But now, she saw it clearly.

Gaeul wasn’t just an ex.

She was a predator.

And Minji… might’ve handed you right into her trap.

Back in your apartment.

Gaeul lies next to you, her arms wrapping around your waist.

"Let’s stay like this forever," she whispers.

You turn toward her.

She smiles.

"You don’t need anyone else."

You hesitate.

But your voice comes out soft. Tired. Relieved.

"Yeah… I guess I don’t."

Her smile widens.

She presses her lips to your temple.

And in her mind, everything is perfect again.

She has you.

And now she’ll never let you go.

[lenasguitar]

men and minors dni !

– now playing: meddle about - chase atlantic

SWEETEST TEMPTATIONS

oh, im so fucked

pairings: jock!slightperv!vi x fem!reader - college au

preface: when a jock moves in with you, you may begin to see that she is more interested in you than others. with ever talk, and every lingering glance, she gets closer and closer until she might just snap.

warnings: men and minors dni; explicit/nsfw, vi masturbating while thinking of reader, kinda stalker-ish, implied words, swearing, reader is oblivious and blah blah, not read over

a/n: hihi first post!! nothing much to say here tbh but comments and reposts are appreciated!

vi doesn't really mean to be so keen on being close to you, it was never really meant to end up this way.

she used to see you everyday after her practices sitting in the same spot outside of the campus cafe. she would see you offering little birds bits of your pastries, making small talk with waiters, in little tiny and seperate instances. the same girl, at the same place, at the same time. vi was one to take mental notes in her head, and all of those moments went into brain one by one, slowly taking over her thoughts.

the more she noticed about you, the more she noticed herself getting more and more attached to your presence. she could spot you in any crowd, memorize the tiny things you did in the short periods of time she sees you outside of the cafe, and capture images of you in her mind.

all this, and she barely knew your last name–though, it didn't take her long to find out after a quick search. she didn't want to scour on the internet to find out everything about you, she prefers a more hands-on approach.

so when the opportunity arose to become your roommate after you and your previous one had a small falling out, she quite literally jumped at it. she didn't want to seem like she already knew quite a bit about you, so she played the role of the stranger to you. she didn't quite mind, appreciating a moment to let you acquaint yourself to her.

she could keep her slightly/not so slight obsession quiet, but how long was she really gonna hold out for? not that long. she started to adjust her schedule to maximize the amount of time she could see, hear, and think about you.

for example, she starts to end her practices a little bit earlier and be the first one out the door so she could have a seat with you at the cafe for as long as possible.

"this seat taken, or do i need to make space for those greedy creatures you always seem to be feeding?"

she tapped on the chair across from you with her pointer, duffel bag in one hand and to-go cup in the other.

"watch your mouth, violet. but please, have a seat before they come back and hurry you out."

you said with a tilt of your head vi knew you only did when you made some kind of snide fucking comment that made her head go dizzy. it was stupid to be going insane over some small interactions, but it was also stupid to be going insane over her roommate who was completely oblivious to her fixation, to put it nicely.

vi may be subtle, but it can only go so far. you start to notice new pairs of panties with little bows and lace that looked like yours appearing in your drawers while your previously owned ones were going missing, and your perfume lid had been left on your desk without the cap on a couple of occasions. though, every time you asked her, she would just play it off and make some kind of flirt about it.

"hey, vi? im missing some pairs of underwear, do you know where they went?"

"don't flatter yourself, princess. though, if you want them off your hands-"

she turned from the video games she was playing on the couch, a small smug smile on her face and controller in her hands.

"nope, forget i asked!"

she laughed at your embarrassed face and it followed you right back to your room, the sound lingering in your mind and your voice lingering in hers.

to you, she's a friend who tells you dirty jokes and innuendos that you can't quite place, but to her? your basically the sun that she revolves around, that she keeps getting drawn closer to. with the tiny bows your wear in your braids, the texts you leave her telling her to drink water and sleep early, how could she possibly want to stop?

every night she spend with her hand shoved between her thighs under her boxer shorts, thinking about you and whispering your name behind the closed door, whimpering all the things she wished she could say to you felt more and more desperate, until she might just have to do something about it.

after all, thats what friends are for, right?

[filmbyjy]

let me go

PAIRING: yang jungwon x fem!reader

SYPNOSIS: falling in love with your childhood best friend was something that you didn't expect to happen. you knew jungwon never had feelings for you so what happens when he starts dating some other girl? will you learn to let go or fight for him?

WARNING(s): not a happy ending with jungwon. heeseung is your older brother in here (in case people think you're gonna get with hee). you choose someone else to love.

WORD COUNT: 2.5K words

a/n: if you've seen this before on wattpad. just know it is my work. so yeah. don't worry, not stolen. i just wanted to upload some works that i had written on wattpad about 3 years ago that i didn't reupload onto tumblr. here is the link to the original. i am also currently revamping some chapters on there so yeah.

Hanging out with 7 other boys was of course a crazy time. Each of them had their own personalities but when they all came together everything just becomes perfect and chaotic.

"WOOOO PARTY." A few of them yell as they hold up each pillow from your room. Your mom thought it was a great idea to let the 6 boys stay over. How foolish of your mom, doesn't she know boys stink and are very loud? She already has one son, she should know better.

"Heeseung oppa, could you please calm your friends down." You yelled over their screaming. Heeseung groans.

"Why me? Aren't they your friends too!" Heeseung, aka your older brother, yells back. You grabbed your phone and clicked on a loud noise app. The only reason you have it is because of situations like this. The other boys covered their ears, wincing at the loud alarm that played.

"Calm down. My mom wanted us to have a sleepover not a party dimwits." You say. Ni-Ki folds his arms. It seems as though he didn't agree with your statement.

"Well it's not a sleepover without the party element." Ni-Ki says. You sighed.

"Jungwon, you're on my side right? Can't we just have a normal sleepover where we watch movies and cuddle? Besides, we're all sleeping in the guestroom and it's too small for all of us to run around and party." He thinks for a second. A huge smirk plasters over his face.

"Nah that's for your girly sleepovers. We fight to our death with pillows!" Jungwon says and that set a pillow fight in your bedroom. You grabbed your pillow and blankets and went to the living room.

You didn't want to handle the boys right now, not when you're on your period. You breathed in and out, hoping to have the patience to deal with 7 chaotic boys for the next 3 days. But what could you do? They're your friends(and brother) after all. You could hear them screaming out loud and running around. 

The next day, the 7 boys practically dragged you to an arcade saying 'they will get you a plushie for being so disruptive last night'. Did you believe that? Nope, getting things from a claw machine is like a scam of money. You were certain that they rigged the machine to get easy money out of kids.

"Look sis, a panda. Just like you with your dark circles under your eyes." Heeseung teases. You hit your brother on his left arm which earns a yelp from him.

"Don't test me. You know I'm on my damn period." You warn him. Ah right, he must have let that slipped from his mind. His eyes widened and he starts profusely apologising.

Anyways, everyone had their fun at the arcade when a group of girls walked in. One in particular caught Jungwon's eyes. Like a simple love at first sight. Jungwon blushes when she looks in his direction. She sends him a small smile before walking away with her friends.

"Dude, she totally just looked at you." Jay says. Jungwon clearly was flustered and you on the other hand felt your heart sinking. It was like a sting to your heart.

You've always had a huge crush on Jungwon. Being friends with him the longest since the both of you grew up together in the same neighbourhood. He was in fact your neighbour so both your parents had became close before you were born. Eventually, it led to you and Jungwon having playdates after the both of you were born. Which were extremely fun since he taught you about making paper planes and boats.

Developing feelings for him was never what you expected but because of puberty and you start to notice him loosing a little of his baby fats. He gotten a lot more handsome as the years went on. Your heart races whenever you see him on the field playing soccer with the other boys. The smirk he wore whenever he scored a goal and did his usual celebration.

Heeseung notices your change in behaviour so he pats hair. Being your big brother means he knows how you're feeling and you've told him before that you liked Jungwon. You trusted him and he promised not to tell a single soul and up till now nobody knows about this.

"Why don't you ask for her number?" Jake suggests as he pats the boy.

"You think I should?" Jungwon asks.

"Yeah! Who knows, she might like you." Jay nudges the boy. Jungwon turns to you.

"You think I should ask her?"

"H-Huh? Yeah go ahead." You put on a fake smile. Why did he even ask you? It's his free will to do so. Everyone else notices how you sound a little different except Jungwon. He smiles. You could see it in his eyes, he was determined to get that girl's number despite being shy.

"I'll go ask her. If I don't come back alive, send Sunoo hyung for me." Sunoo rolls his eyes. He flicks Jungwon's forehead.

"I'm not going to get you. You can walk here by yourself." He sasses. The others chuckle. Jungwon rolls his eyes before walking over to the group of girls.

Sunghoon had been watching you ever since Jungwon laid his eyes on the girl. He had a hunch that you liked Jungwon but he doesn't want to say it in case you didn't want him to know. Sunghoon is the type of friend that wants to protect you, if heeseung wasn't there, he will be the replacement brother for the short span of time.

"(name), can I talk to you for a bit?" Sunghoon asks. You nod. He pulls you over somewhere quieter.

"Are you okay?" You sighed at his words.

"Did heeseung tell you?"

"No. I just had a feeling."

"Was I obvious?" You had frowned. Sunghoon ruffles your hair.

"Not at all. I was just observing, you know I always have your back. Besides, you looked sad. I got a little protective seeing the sadness in your eyes."

"Thank you, Sunghoon." You smiled a little. This time actually genuine.

"Come here. Want a hug?" Sunghoon holds out his arms. You hugged him instantly, hiding your face on his chest. He was always great at giving hugs since you know he was tall and a sweet person. His hugs felt like home and you were always grateful for that.

Jungwon on the other hand had spotted this because he was happily skipping from the other end. He frowns, he doesn't know why but he just does. Shouldn't he feel happy he got the cute girl's number? Why was he feeling upset when you were hugging Sunghoon? Must just be the protectiveness he had over you. After hugging, you and Sunghoon went back to the group. Jungwon was talking about the girl and how she was so pretty up close. She was super kind, what he described. It only stings your heart even more.

The 8 of you travelled back home, you decided to wash up and change into pyjamas. Tonight, you were hoping to watch something to make you feel better. Maybe a sad movie? So no one would think you're crazy for crying? Yeah, that was the best option. You needed to cry and you had to mask it with watching a sad movie. You settled on one movie, it was about a little girl losing her family. She grew up all alone and you just practically burst into tears. You were hoping no one was going to walk into your room but...

"Hey (name), do you know where are the chips- Are you okay?" Jay asks a little concerned. You nod while pointing to the movie playing on your laptop.

"J-Just a sad story." He pouts.

"You know, you told me before that if you watch sad movies it means you're actually sad so what's up?" Jay says as he settles next to you on the bed.

"Am I that ugly, Jay?" His eyes widened, startled that you asked that out of the blue.

"Why would you say that?" You had sniffled and Jay reaches out to squeeze your hand.

"I feel like I'm not pretty enough."

"For who? Who said you're ugly. Should I fight the person?" Jay says. You giggle a little.

"I don't think you can fight me, Jay. You can't bare to even hurt me."

"Well, that's because you're my best friend and I love you. You're hyung's baby sister and ours too."

"That's what I am to everyone."

"Of course- Wait do you have a crush on one of us." He narrows his eyes.

"I don't."

"Hmm, denying means you're lying~" You hit his arm.

"I don't like any of you."

"Is it Jake?"

"No."

"Is it Sunghoon?"

"He is like an older brother to me, idiot."

"Then is it Ni-Ki?"

"Again, he is like an annoying little brother."

"Sunoo?"

"No." Jay comes closer. You moved back.

"Then is it me?" He smirks. You rolled your eyes. He was always teasing and you were so done.

"No."

"Definitely not Heeseung hyung. That's just wrong, you're siblings. Blood related siblings."

"You think I'd date my own brother? That's crazy."

"Only in Alabama." Jay says. You burst out laughing. "Then is it...Jungwon?" You kept quiet. He finally his name. 

"It's him isn't it!" You covered jay's mouth.

"Shut up. I don't want anyone to hear about it." He removes the hand on his mouth.

"So am I the first to know?"

"No. Sunghoon and Heeseung oppa already know."

"Well, at least I'm the third person to know!" He smiles. Then he realises. "Crap, then I probably shouldn't have egged him to ask the girl for her number huh...I ruined it for you."

"It's okay. What's done has been done. You can't rewind time. Besides, Jungwon doesn't like me that way." Jay pouts.

"I'm sorry though."

"Jay, it's fine. If he and that girl were to date, I'll be fine. I was never his first choice anyways."

"Ouch that sounds hurtful. You shouldn't put yourself down like that. I'm sure you're someone's first choice."

"Just leave the damn room." You say.

"Alright. I'll leave. Goodnight though." Jay says. He leaves the room quickly.

The next morning, you were about to leave your room when you were shoved back in. Jay hastily shuts the door. He sighs once the bedroom door shuts. The other 5 boys look over at you guilty.

"Don't leave. Jungwon brought the girl to the house and I think they might have a movie night here." Jay says. You look at the others.

"What? But this is my house, why would he-" You had sighed. "You guys know about my crush, don't you?" They scratched their heads.

"Jay, did you tell them?"

"Hey, at least you have the rest of us to warn you. We don't want you to get heart broken,(name)."

"But I already am." You say and that made them go silent. You pushed past them and just went to put on your shoes.

"(name), where are you going?" Heeseung yells out to you. Jungwon hears the commotion, he and the girl turned to the noises.

"Out. I want to be alone."

"But there is going to be a snow storm-" Heeseung yells but you couldn't hear. You had already shut the door and left running out of the house. Sunghoon sighs.

"I'll go get her. If we don't come back, just know I probably got us a hotel room or something." He says. Sunghoon grabs his wallet. He was pretty much an adult now and he does work so he has a debit card.

You stumbled at the lake you loved going to. It was currently frozen so people could ice skate on it. It reminds you of the past where you and Jungwon ice skated for fun. You knew how to skate but he didn't so he kept holding onto you for safety and to balance. It was such an innocent time in your life. Before you started to develop feelings for him.

"Why did I fall for him?" You mumble to yourself as you kicked a small rock from the snowy ground.

"Because feelings change." Sunghoon says. You nearly fell on your butt when you heard Sunghoon's voice.

"What are you doing here."

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid."

"Not even my own brother chases after me." You say bitterly.

"Are you that upset?"

"Yeah, of course. I've liked him for maybe 5 years now. Ever since we turned 13. I've tried so hard to forget the feelings but it just doesn't work."

"Then, will it work if something else happens? If there was someone else in your life that can change that?"

"Huh?" Sunghoon holds you close.

"I don't want to take advantage of you but I just wanted to let you know I've always had feelings for you."

"You said I was practically like your little sister."

"That was to hide my feelings. I've always felt like giving the best thing to you and I knew you liked Jungwon."

"Sunghoon. I'm only 18."

"So? I'm 2 years older. I can treat you way better than Jungwon. He already has someone he likes. Can't you give up your feelings for me?"

"Sunghoon, I-I don't have feelings for you. I'm sorry."

"But what if I try to change that?" Sunghoon says.

"I don't k-know."

"What if I try to make you have feelings for me. Test your feelings for me."

"And how do you want to do that?" He leans down closer to your height.

"Kiss." You were a distance away from him.

"Sunghoon. This will be my first kiss."

"Then I'll make it special." He places his lips right on yours. You've never felt this before but something is telling you that you want this. Maybe it was time you gave up your heart for someone else. Someone like Sunghoon. The snow storm happens just as you reach home, the heavy winds blows directly at the both of you. Sunghoon holds your hands to keep it warm.

"Oh my god, we thought you'd get lost or trapped in the snow!" Heeseung worriedly says.

"Uhh so, how are you feeling?" Jake asks.

"Better." They didn't notice the intertwined fingers between you and Sunghoon.

"I'll go make you hot cocoa." Sunghoon says. He leaves a peck on your forehead and leaves to the kitchen. The boys were shocked.

"What was that?" Jay asks.

"What was what?" You say.

"Sunghoon hyung kissing your forehead!" Sunoo says.

"Oh...umm...well...things happened." You stutter. Heeseung's jaw drops.

"You and Sunghoon are dating, right?"

"No. Not yet, you know I still have feelings for you know who I'm just testing the waters with Sunghoon. He promised to make me forget about my feelings with him. For now, it's a situationship I guess."

"Seems pretty easy. I mean...it's Sunghoon, that boy can make you forget things." Jake says.

"And why do you know about this?"

"Huh?" Jake says. You shook your head.

The boy who was in the living room with his supposed dream girl sighs. He didn't feel right about dating her but I guess he had to put up with this since you were already dating someone else. He could only congratulate you for being in a relationship.

He knew he couldn't take care of you as great as his hyung, so he had to let you go.

taglist[perm]: @ja4hyvn @ahnneyong @milklix @kar0ki @sugarsunoo @http-gyu @simpforniki @vatterie @victoriazynui @myu3ki @jhopesucker @dimplewonie @chwlogy @ilovewonyo @xiaoderrrr @uwuheeseungie @miercerise @liikno @hxney-luga @tiktaktiki @ajayke-reads @yizhoutv @s00buwu @ilovehanni1 @starrpt2 @mystarryseas @moonliaworld @in-somnias-world @luvyev @engeneeee-168 @babyy-bambii @kimipxl @namau @gxwesn @kristynaaah @jiiyen @nshmrarki @addictedtohobi @starvyeol1512 @alexisdalmatian

[starkeyvhs]

Okay would you be willing to write a blurb/one shot where sage feels left out or overlooked and gets sad about it? Like maybe she accomplished something at school but it gets pushed to the back because the youngest comes in with his accomplishment and everyone focuses on that? And then Rafe and reader realize what’s happening and comfort her 🥹

I absolutely love this oh my heart 🥹 thank you for this lovely req anon!! <3 my inbox is open for all kinds of asks and reqs for the cameron family :)

overlooked

PAIRING: the cameron family universe

SUMMARY: after a big accomplishment gets overlooked, sage is comforted delicately by her parents.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: middle child being overlooked; lot of usage of nicknames; rafe and reader don't seem like the best parents but they redeem themselves towards the end :)

EDITH SPEAKS: this goes out to any middle child who felt neglected by their family. please know no matter what, you are seen and heard 💞 if you enjoy reading, reblogs and feedback are always highly appreciated! ☁️

masterlist / join my taglist / requests / the cameron family masterlist

The beaming on her face just can’t be stopped, the smile as bright as the shining sun. Sage is practically skipping along the sidewalk, her headphones playing Cage the Elephant in her ears and her hands holding her precious certificate. 

For representing her school in a major robotics competition, not only did she come first, but also secured a major cash prize! A project that was a vision since she was a kid was finally brought to life by her own hands and was presented at the competition. She got loads of compliments, and most of the evaluators told her they see her going very far in life. 

Sage reaches her home, slowly walking inside the open front door. She saw her dad’s car outside, which excites her a little bit, cause now she gets to show this to both her parents together. 

She makes her way through the house, but it’s all silent. She can’t find anyone in the kitchen, or in the living room. Confused, she begins to make her way upstairs, and the muffled sounds of her parents and Orion are audible to her as she climbs up and up. 

The door of Orion’s room is slightly ajar, and she peeks inside to indeed see both her parents with her younger brother. 

“Mom, dad–” she opens the door and steps inside, but the moment she keeps her first foot, her momma, with the biggest smile on her face, practically runs up to Sage and brings her inside with her hand around her wrist. 

“Look! He came first in his art competition!” Momma says, the biggest grin on her face as she shows Sage Orion’s trophy. He’s sitting in his dad’s lap on his small bed, rambling on and on about the competition today, and his dad is looking at him as if he’s the brightest shining star. 

“... and then the teacher called my name! And said I won the first prize!” Orion says, and his dad laughs at his ecstatic energy. 

“Good job kiddo,” he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

Momma sits down next to the two, gently smoothing a hand over Orion’s blond hair. “Yeah, good job,” she hums, pressing her own kiss to his cheek which causes him to shy into his dad’s chest. 

“Uh so guys–” Sage begins speaking, hiding her certificate behind her back, a sense of hopefulness spreading in her as she begins to speak but it dies down when she gets cut off. 

“Sage Sage you know what I drew?” Orion jumps out of his dad’s lap and gets closer to his sister, gently tugging on her pants. Sage puts on a smile and gently ruffles his hair. 

“No, what did you draw bub?” She asks softly, smiling at him. 

“I drew a landscape, from our trip to the mountains last summer,” he grins, looking up at his sister with big bright blue eyes. 

“Oh yeah? I’m proud of you baby.” Orion will always be close to Sage’s heart, no matter what. 

“My drawing is downstairs I’ll bring it up to show you,” he grins and dashes out of his room before he can say anything else. 

Sage watches him run off, and decides to take this moment to talk to her parents. 

“So uh, mom, dad-” she begins, but she’s cut off, again. 

“Oh!” Momma says almost immediately, standing up on her feet and already making her way out of the room. “I have a pot of soup on the stove Orion will definitely knock it off!” She says over her shoulder, her voice echoing off the walls of the hallway. 

Sage feels a strain in her chest but she swallows it down, turning her attention to her dad. It’s okay, she still has her dad to tell this to.  

But this time, before she can even open her mouth, her dad’s phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and mutters a soft ‘oh god’ under his breath, and picks it up. From his voice and his tone, Sage already knows this is going to be a long call, and well, he’s walking out of the room too, but doesn’t leave without gently smoothing a hand over Sage’s hair once. The action is soft and comforting, but it all fades away when she realises she’s all alone in her brother’s room; a room she entered absolutely grinning to show her certificate to her parents, but now a room which is left with only her, and her dream of watching her parents gush over her achievement. 

Sighing softly, she pads out of the room, the certificate held between her nimble fingers. She catches the voice of her momma and Orion laughing from the kitchen. He never came back upstairs to show her the drawing, which she genuinely, despite the circumstances, wanted to see. 

Sage enters her room and quietly closes the door behind her, keeping the certificate on her desk. She makes her way over to the window which faces the backyard, and spots her dad walking back and forth, still on call, and his loud hand gestures tell her he’s not happy with someone. 

Sighing softly, she plops down on her bed, her sneakers still on her feet but she doesn’t care. Turning onto her side and curling her knees closer to her chest, she quietly closes her eyes, trying to get her mind off of what just happened. 

I’m proud of myself, and that’s all that matters to me.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

Sage doesn’t realise when she falls asleep to her own thoughts, her body curled in the exact same position hours later when it’s dark outside. 

She did hear Leo coming at her door to call her downstairs for dinner, but her mind was too bleary and sleepy to process anything. What she doesn’t realise is now her parents are at her door, softly knocking at it. 

“Sage?” She hears her dad, and forcefully opens her eyes and slips out of her bed, trodding over to the door and opening it. The light from the hallway makes her squint her eyes, so she simply just turns around and makes her way back to her bed, laying on it again. 

“Hey sweets, you didn’t come down for dinner,” she hears her momma saying softly, who sits down next to her and gently runs her hand over her hair. 

“Yeah, is everything okay-” her dad begins speaking, but he gets cut off when he sees something sitting on her desk. He picks it up and reads over it, his eyes widening as he takes in the information. 

“Baby…” he says softly, giving momma the certificate for her to read too as he himself settles down next to Sage’s curled body. 

���You won a cash prize? And came first?” comes her momma’s voice. Sage buries her face into her pillow, her back to the two of them. 

“It’s no big deal,” she mutters into her pillow quietly. She can hear her dad sighing softly at her words, a moment of silence falling over the three of them. 

“Can you sit up for us, baby?” Her dad asks her softly. She recognises his tone: it’s the tender tone he only uses with her momma and her. 

No one else.

Sage slowly sits up, her back pressing to the headboard of her bed as she looks at both her parents sitting side-by-side, looking at her with similar gentle smiles on their faces. 

“Come here baby,” Her dad says, his tone still carrying the same tenderness from before. It’s the voice she can never deny or ignore; the voice that pulls her close to him and his warmth. It’s the voice she wishes her future husband would use with her the way her dad uses it with her momma. 

She doesn’t say anything as she shifts closer to her dad, who pulls her into his arms, allowing her to snuggle into his side. Sage feels her momma’s hand gently rubbing over her back which soothes her even more in her dad’s hold. 

“We’re so proud of you,” her momma says softly, and she nuzzles her face into the expanse of her dad’s chest. “You’re only 14, yet you have the sharpest mind we’ve ever seen. We’ll always be so proud of you,”

“Yeah,” her dad says, who also presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know one day you’re going to be so successful,” 

Sage lifts her head to meet her dad’s gaze, who’s looking down at her with the softest look in his eyes. “Yeah?” She murmurs quietly, almost with the tone of a 5 year old Sage. 

“Yeah,” her dad says, and the way he says it with such conviction causes her chest to tighten. Her dad’s smile softens even more, and he gently tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“I love you guys,” she says softly and buries her face back in her dad’s chest. She feels her momma gently wrapping one arm around her frame as she rests her head on her dad’s shoulder. 

“We love you too baby,” her momma whispers, and Sage melts in their hold. “We always will.” 

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @acidfeens / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies

specific tags for this fic: @maybankslover

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr / @maybejj

[runningincircl3s]

Untitled Bestfriend!Noah x Reader Series

Part 4

the series masterlist is here and you can join the taglist here :)

warnings: NSFW!! porn with little plot- each chapter is basically a oneshot, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, use of sex toys, outdoors sex?, tiniest bit of anal..? uhh there's probably more, this parts actually kinda wild… and not edited properly...

holy hell... I'M SORRY FOR THE WAIT AGAIN!! this has taken me so long to write, partially because i'm a chronic procrastinator and also because i HATE proof reading my own smut... i was originally going to post this in two parts because it's a super long chapter, but then i kinda ran out of ideas for a second part lmao

p.s this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm not too sure how i feel about it but i'm posting it anyway just because i've been writing this for a whole month and i don't want to rewrite it :( i'll edit it properly at some point and i'll probably feel happier with it!

The house was too quiet…

Your parents had left in a rush that morning, rushing to catch their separate flights for work trips, leaving the mess at home behind without a second thought. They hadn’t expected you to clean, hadn’t even asked, but you’d spent all day scrubbing, tidying, sorting, because the idea of living in their mess for a week was worse than the effort it took to fix it.

Now, it was well past 11 p.m., and you were curled up on the couch in the exact position you’d collapsed into hours ago, after finally giving up on trying to scrub the old wine stain out of the carpet. Your oversized shirt had slipped down one shoulder, your legs bare, wearing nothing else besides your soft, worn cotton underwear. Your hair messy, eyes heavy. You could've fallen asleep, but you were waiting for his text.

And your phone was still quiet. It had been for hours.

You checked it again, thumb hovering like maybe this time it would buzz with a message.

But nope. Nothing.

You weren’t mad. Just tired, and a little let down. Noah was supposed to come over tonight, and staying with you for the week. You’d been looking forward to it all day- his voice, his presence, the way he made you feel like you could just be yourself.

You dropped the phone back onto the coffee table with a quiet sigh and closed your eyes. The room dimmed, faded. Your breath began to slow...

Buzz. Buzz.

Your eyes fluttered open. You reached for the phone.

Noah: Shit… Just got out of the studio. I’m so sorry, we lost track of time.

Noah: Do you still want me to come over?

Your fingers moved before you even thought:

You: Please!! It’s been a long day. I need you.

You didn’t see his reply. You’d already drifted off, your phone resting on your chest where it slipped from your hand.

You only woke when you heard the front door open. The sound of keys, the soft click of the door shutting.

“Noah?” You mumbled, your voice hoarse and barely awake.

“Hey." Came his soft voice, footsteps padding toward you.

You blinked up at him. He crouched in front of you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, I’m the worst. I didn’t mean to let you wait this long.”

“You’re not,” you whispered, sitting up. “You’re here now.”

He nodded and sat beside you, pulling you into his side without hesitation.

“You look exhausted,” he murmured, "Long day?"

“Yeah.” You didn’t even try to hide it. “I’ve been cleaning since noon. They left the place a disaster.”

He kissed the side of your head, his hand stroking your hair gently.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve ditched the session and come to help.”

“You were busy,” you said, tilting your face toward him. “Long day too?”

He nodded.

“Yeah... But this? Right here, right now? This is what I’ve been waiting for all day.”

You sighed into him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

A soft silence settled between the two of you, until Noah turned to face you, his lips brushing your hairline as he whispered.

“I wanna take care of you… you’ve done enough for one day.”

You nodded, and let your eyes close again as his hand found your thigh, stroking slow, soothing patters up and down your skin. Your body relaxed, sinking into him. His touch was warm and gentle, fingertips brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt.

“Come on,” he whispered, helping you up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The two of you moved through the dark house together, soft footed and quiet until you reached your bedroom. You winced when he flicked on the main light by instinct, and he quickly apologised, switching it off again as you turned on your bedside lamp, casting a softer glow over the two of you.

You climbed under the covers with a sigh, sinking into the pillows. Noah peeled off his shirt and skinny jeans, dropping them in the corner, leaving him in just his boxers, before climbing under the sheets with you. His warmth enveloped you immediately.

“You really cleaned all day?” He asked, voice low as his fingers traced over your shoulder beneath the loose fabric of your shirt.

“Yeah. Cleaned stuff. Moved stuff. Did all the laundry. Look, I even put my plushies in the corner and put the good pillows on your side of the bed.”

He chuckled softly.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you whispered, watching his face in the golden glow of your lamp. “You’re staying all week. Wanna make it feel like it’s yours too.”

He looked at you then, and something in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re too good to me." He said.

You smiled faintly, tracing the edge of his jaw with your fingertips.

“I just missed you… I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I missed you more.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw. And then, softer, he whispered, “You know what I missed the most?”

You barely managed a sleepy hum.

“The way you sound when I touch you...”

You shivered under his touch as his hand trailed down again, sliding beneath your shirt, warm palm smoothing over your stomach before dipping under the waistband of your underwear.

His lips brushed under your ear.

“Let me take care of you tonight. You’ve done enough.”

“Please.” You gave the smallest nod, eyes fluttering shut again.

And then his fingers found you, already soft, warm, and aching.

“Always so wet for me,” he whispered. “And we've got all week for this.”

“God, I can't wait...” You mumbled, though you were barely clinging to consciousness, your body pliant and loose under his touch.

He kissed your lips, deep and slow, while his fingers stroked you in lazy circles, every movement gentle. Like he had nowhere else to be, he just wanted to take his time, he wanted to feel every second this with you.

Your hips rocked into his hand, a quiet whimper escaping your throat. He shushed you sweetly, kissing your neck as he slipped two long fingers inside you, curling them just right.

Your thighs trembled a little, your hand finding his arm, your breath catching as his thumb worked your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Just let go, baby... I got you.”

And so you did. A soft cry, barely louder than a breath, left your lips, your body trembled, and you tightened around his fingers.

Noah kept his forehead pressed to yours, kissing you gently through it, murmuring praise as your body relaxed again.

Slowly, he eased his fingers out and cleaned them with his mouth, humming faintly. You were barely conscious by now, eyelids fluttering.

He shifted just enough to pull you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. His cock hard, pressed painfully against your thigh, but he didn’t move.

“You’re out, aren’t you?” He whispered, smiling as you gave no answer. Just a little peaceful sigh.

You were asleep.

He kissed your jaw, then tucked his face into your neck.

"All week with you..." He smiled against your skin.

And then he held you, just like that. Still hard, his cock aching, but he was still content.

Because after a long week, you were his favourite place to rest, too.

...

Day One

You woke to the smell of something buttery and sweet.

The sunlight came through your blinds in delicate slats, warming the sheets where your body had long since shifted in search of the familiar weight that had disappeared from your side. You stirred, stretching with a groggy yawn, and reached for the cool side of the bed, to find it empty.

But then the door creaked open.

Noah stepped in, shirtless, long hair messy from sleep, carrying a tray with two mugs, a plate stacked with pancakes, and a bottle of maple syrup clutched in his teeth.

You blinked up at him, still half asleep.

“Wow... should I get used to this?” You chuckled, sitting up slowly as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes.

He laughed around the bottle, setting the tray carefully on your lap.

“You think I was gonna let you survive off pop tarts for a week?”

You smiled, rubbing your eyes.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, settling beside you. “And last night proved it.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry I passed out so fast. I wanted to stay awake for you.”

He nudged your shoulder gently.

“You don’t ever have to apologise for being exhausted. You worked your ass off yesterday.”

“Still. I literally must've fell asleep mid orgasm. You didn't even... get anything.”

"It's okay," he chuckled, "I've never fingered anyone to sleep before, it was kinda hot."

You smacked his thigh, laughing as he handed you your coffee.

“You’re such a menace.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “But I made you blueberry pancakes.”

You both dug in, legs brushing under the sheets. The quiet was soft, punctuated only by syrupy bites and the occasional sleepy smile passed between you.

When the plate was nearly empty, he nudged you again.

“So... Anything you wanna do today?”

You licked syrup from your thumb and looked him dead in the eye.

“Yeah. You.”

"Damn," his brows lifted, and he couldn't hide his grin, "That was direct.”

You shrugged innocently.

“I’m rested now.”

"I know." He leaned in, kissing your cheek. “That actually reminds me, I bought something for you... It's still in my car.”

You tilted your head, intrigued.

“What kind of something?”

“You’ll see." He said with a smirk, "Just give me a second.”

You slid out of bed, careful with the tray, and padded barefoot downstairs to rinse off the dishes. The water ran over your hands as you heard the front door open and Noah’s footsteps on the gravel outside. You dried your hands quickly, the curiosity growing louder.

By the time he returned, you were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He shut the door behind him with his shoulder, holding a small black box tucked under one arm.

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Is that for me?”

“Mhmm,” he said, smirking slightly. “Something I’ve been thinking about getting you for a while. Wasn’t sure if it’d be too much, but… after the last night at my place?” He held it out. “Figured you might like it.”

You took the box from his hands slowly, glancing up at him before opening it.

Neatly nestled inside, was a toy?

It was realistic. A light flesh toned. Veined, soft silicone, lifelike in the curve of the shaft and the shape of the head. Slightly smaller than him, but detailed, with a smooth base and a small button where the vibrations would activate, and it came with a remote.

Your mouth parted.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s a little smaller than me,” he said, suddenly sheepish. “Bit shorter, not as thick, so it's less intense.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly avoiding your eyes.

How have you made Noah Sebastian, your best friend, certified slut in your hometown, blush over a sex toy.

“Last time we tried… at my place… I know it hurt. I hated seeing you uncomfortable. So I figured this might help. You could get used to the stretch at your own pace. No pressure... And it doubles as a vibrator.” He chuckled.

You blinked down at the toy again, your heart clenching at how thoughtful that was, in a rather strange way. He remembered. He noticed. And instead of pulling away, or letting it scare him off, he’d taken the time to find a way to make it better for you.

“Noah,” you whispered, stunned. “This is… this is insane.”

His expression shifted, nervous now.

“Insane bad?”

“No,” you breathed. “It's... hot. You got me this...? For that reason?”

“Well, yeah,” he murmured, stepping in closer. “And because, y'know, I can’t always be here. Figured this way, when you need something, or someone, you don’t have to wait for me. And maybe… it’ll help you, you could kinda get used to it so it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

You could barely breathe. The sincerity of it all lodged deep in your chest.

“I don’t even know what to say...” You murmured, eyes still on the box.

He gently took it from your hands, setting it down on the kitchen island. Then his arms were around your waist, drawing you in.

“You don’t have to say anything yet,” he said, voice low. “I can show you how to use it... if you want.”

You looked up at him, heart fluttering.

“Oh, I want.”

His fingers gripped your hips tighter. The air between you grew heavier, slower, tighter.

But just as he bent down to kiss you-

Your phone buzzed.

You blinked, glancing toward the counter. The screen lit up with a message.

Folio: hey u home? noah told us he's staying with u this week. me n matt wanna come over. u got snacks?

Noah saw it too and groaned softly.

"Tell them we're not here."

You stifled a laugh, biting your lip.

"Folio lives down the road, he'll see your car."

"We could've walked somewhere! C'mon-"

"Noah, we have all week," you smiled, "One afternoon with your friends over just means they won't turn up unannounced later."

He leaned his forehead against yours with a dramatic sigh.

"Fine." He said, pulling away slowly with one last squeeze to your waist, “But once they leave, we're going straight up to your bed."

"Once they're gone..." you smirked, a hand on his chest as you looked up into his eyes, "We could even try it out on the couch."

Noah's face flushed, you watched his eyes darken and his breathing slow.

"What have I turned you into."

...

The guys had been here for a while now, and you could tell Noah was getting restless. You all played halo for a bit, and were now in the middle of watching a movie. Folio was shovelling popcorn into his mouth when he suddenly blurted,

“Do you think Beth would go out with me?”

You blinked, trying to act surprised.

“Beth? My Beth?”

“Obviously not his Beth, genius.” Matt snorted, not even looking away from the game.

You smacked his arm, then turned to Folio with a grin.

“Wait. Are you being serious?”

Folio shrugged like it was no big deal, but his ears went a little red.

“Yeah, I mean… she’s hot, she's cool, but she's kinda intimidating. I dunno, that's whay I thought I'd ask you first. I was thinking maybe I’d ask her to get drinks or something.”

You gasped.

“Yes, oh my god, you have to! She would love that... She’s been asking about you, actually.”

"Really?" His brows lifted.

“Really.” You grinned.

“Shit.” He leaned back, puffing out his cheeks. “Okay. Cool. No pressure.”

Noah, sitting next to you on the couch, shot you a look that said are we really doing this now, but you were beaming.

The night carried on with more trash talk, half-finished snacks, and plenty of laughter. But eventually, the mood started to lull, Matt yawned, then Folio yawned, and eventually, they decided it was time to leave. They thanked you for the snacks, and Folio thanked you for the advice.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, a heavy silence settled in the room, and then Noah practically pounced. He strode past you and yanked the curtains closed with one swift tug.

“Finally.” He muttered under his breath, then he turned, grinning like the devil himself.

You tried to hide your smirk as you headed towards the kitchen, to the island, but the heat in your cheeks gave you away.

“You've been so patient.” You chuckled.

“Barely.” His voice had already dropped an octave, low and rough. “You said you’d use it on the couch.”

“I did,” you said sweetly, lifting the box like it weighed nothing and bringing it back into the living room. “So? Are you gonna teach me how to use it, or what?”

Noah didn’t answer. He just closed the distance between you in two long strides.

“Sit,” he said, voice all grit and command. “Now.”

You did.

He reached past you, pulled the toy from the box, and turned itover in his hand, inspecting it carefully before glancing up at you with a raised brow.

“I’ll go clean it first.”

You blinked.

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. Hygiene's important, baby,” he said, very matter of factly, but his eyes were dark. “Especially with anything going in you.”

You bit your lip, heat pooling low in your belly at how casual he made it sound, like he was just taking care of you, because he was.

He padded into the kitchen, cleaned it thoroughly, and wiped it down with a cloth he warmed under hot water. He returned a minute later, eyes dropping between your legs, still crouched slightly to look at you.

“Okay. Lie back,” he murmured. “And touch yourself for me.”

You stared.

“Don’t be shy. I want you warmed up for it. You need to be wet, or else it'll hurt.” He sat beside you now, legs spread lazily, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “You can do that, can’t you? Let me watch you get yourself ready to take it?”

You swallowed, heart thudding.

“Yeah… I mean- yeah.”

You lay back against the pillows and slipped out of your shorts and panties, before reaching back down, breath shaky, your fingers finding their way between your thighs. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched, eyes locked to your every movement like it was the only thing that mattered.

But you were already too in your head.

You rubbed slowly, trying to find just the right amount of pressure, but it just wasn’t right. The anticipation was working you up, making everything harder. You already knew your fingers wouldn't be enough, you were aching for more and if anything they only made it worse.

You let out a frustrated breath and tilted your head toward him.

“It’s not working again.” You groaned.

“Hey, hey. That’s okay.” He said, his voice gentle as he moved closer to you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he was already moving, gently pushing your hand aside.

“Let me.” He whispered.

You nearly whined.

He moved so he was now knelt on the floor between your legs, fingers gliding softly over your thighs, holding them open.

“Fuck,” he breathed, looking up at you as he traced two fingers over your folds, aready making you gasp. He used his thumbs to part you softly, and whisper, “Look at this… She’s perfect.”

The tip of his finger traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, and you saw him smirk to himself as you lifted your hips, chasing the feeling.

He shifted slightly, playing with your clit with his thumb with one hand, whilst he slipped his index finger of the other into you slowly…

“Shit... she’s sucking on my fingers like she knows what’s coming.”

He slowly worked the one long finger in and out, taking in how slick it was on the way out, and groaning at how warm you were as he slipped it inside, a second finger joining the first.

“You think this toy’s gonna help you take me, baby?” he asked softly, kissing the inside of your thigh. “I think it will. But not tonight. Tonight, I want to feel you lose your mind on something almost as big as me.” You didn’t beed to look up at him to see the dirty smirk on his face.

Noah’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he took the toy in his hand. Then, softly, like he was asking you to do the most natural thing in the world, he said

“Open your mouth.”

You blinked, looking up at him as if to say really?

“You should know how it feels first, don’t you think? Before I slide it into this sweet little pussy.”

He brought the tip to your mouth, and you took it in slowly, the shape familiar but not exact, still, the feel of it on your tongue made heat travel down your spine. It was warm now, from his hands, and as you sucked, your eyes glanced down...

His cock was hard. So hard you could see the tension in how he held himself, knuckles pale against his thigh, jaw clenched.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, watching your lips around the toy, sucking and licking it like it was his. “That’s so dirty. So good.”

He pulled it from your mouth with a soft pop and leaned in to kiss you, deep and hot and needy, letting out that soft groan he made whenever you let him take control.

“Lie back again, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. “Legs open for me.”

You obeyed without hesitation.

Noah sat between your thighs again, kissed up the inside of your leg, and clicked the toy on. He pressed the vibrating tip of it gently to your clit, just enough to tease, not to overwhelm.

The vibration sent a shock through you. Your breath caught as your hips bucked so slightly.

“Feel good?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, breathlessly.

“So good... Noah…”

But just when the feeling was starting to build, when you thoight he might let you cum first like this, he turned it off.

“No!” You almost whined.

He just grinned, the smug bastard.

“Patience,” he said, kissing your hip. “You’ll thank me.”

He angled the toy lower, sliding the tip between your folds.

“Deep breath for me, baby... if you want to stop, you tell me. If it's too much or you want me to go slower, you tell me.”

"Yes..." You muttered, breathless.

And then he eased the tip in, his thumb working your clit at the same time, hoping the pleasure would overtake any pain.

“Oh my god-” you moaned, the stretch making your walls flutter already.

“Fuck,” he rasped, watching your body take it. “You feel that? Baby, that’s just the tip...”

You clenched around it instinctively, and he stroked your thigh, soothing you.

“You're taking it soo well,” he said, voice low and ragged. “You're so wet... so ready."

You whimpered, legs trembling as he pushed it in a little further, slow and careful, until it was halfway in. Your moan turned desperate, fingers digging into the cushions.

“More?” he asked, his eyes molten. “You want more?”

You nodded, already ruined.

“Please, Noah.”

Noah pushed the toy deeper, inch by inch, his eyes locked on your face as your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured. “Taking it all…”

When it was finally fully nestled inside, he paused.

And he just held it there.

You squirmed almost immediately, overwhelmed by how full you felt, how warm the silicone had become inside you, and how right it felt inside. You hadn’t felt anything inside you besides his fingers since your first time, you almost forgot how it felt.

But still, the toy didn’t move, Noah didn’t let it, which only made the ache more maddening.

“Noah, please!”

“I know,” he said, stroking your thigh with the backs of his fingers. “It’s a lot. Gotta get your pussy used to it first, though.”

He leaned in, kissed the inside of your knee.

“Gotta stretch you out so next time, when it’s me, you won’t feel any pain. Just this...”

You clenched around the toy instinctively, desperate for friction. Your hands gripped the couch cushion behind you, hips rocking up just enough to feel it shift inside you.

“No,” he said gently, pressing his hand to your hip to still you. “Let it sit there. Just get used to it...”

You whined, frustrated.

He smiled, that evil smirk, and his thumb brushed over your clit again.

“Patience, baby. Trust me. You’ll thank me when you cum harder than ever.”

A minute passed. Then another.

You were throbbing, the ache was becoming unbearable. And it wasn’t until your eyes began to well with overwhelmed tears, he whispered.

“Okay. Hold this for me quickly.”

You blinked.

“What?”

He gently guided your hand down, curling your fingers around the base of the toy.

“I need to grab a towel,” he said, standing. “You’re already making a mess, and I’m not letting you ruin your parents’ couch.”

Your mouth fell open, stunned at the casual filth of that sentence.

Noah turned, walked toward the hallway, and looked over his shoulder.

“Keep it inside. Don’t move it, cos I’ll know if you did.”

The second he disappeared, you whined helplessly, gripping the toy in place, hips rolling as your body tried to chase more friction, and even just that simple movement felt delicious.

By the time he came back with a towel in his hand, you were flushed and trembling.

He took one look at you and grinned.

“You followed directions.” He murmured approvingly.

“Barely.”

He laid the towel out beneath your hips, gently repositioning you until you were right where he wanted you, legs open, flushed and wanting.

Then, without a word, he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

His hand returned to the base of the toy, and he started to move it.

Slow, little thrusts at first, just enough to tease as he got you used to the feeling.

Your body arched, the feeling addictive now that it moved, your moan echoing off the living room walls.

“That’s it,” Noah whispered. “Be as loud as you want… it’s just us.”

He leaned forward, his other hand that had been pressed down on your lower belly to keep you still moved, and his thumb began to rub circles on your clit.

You gasped, nails digging into his arm, your thighs trembled, your back arched, and he didn’t stop, just gave you more.

He whispered through it, the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard falling from his lips.

“So perfect… Wish you could see how she takes it, fuck, you’re clenching so tight. You’re so close already, aren’t you?”

You whimpered something unintelligible.

“Shhh, I know, baby. Just let it happen. Just feel all of it, it's good, huh?”

He moved faster now, careful but relentless, the toy stroking every inch of your walls while his thumb traced circles over your clit, and it was too much.

You broke with a cry, body trembling under him, your orgasm crashing over you hard and fast like a tidal wave.

Noah whispered sweet praises through it all, telling you how good you were, how beautiful you looked like this, how he couldn’t wait to feel you fall apart like that around him next time.

And when it was over, when you lay there shaking, he pulled the toy out carefully and slowly, then set it aside, and cradled you against his chest.

You didn’t have the strength to speak. You wanted to thank him, to tell him how good it was- though you guessed he already knew. So you just curled into him and sighed, heart pounding, pussy still pulsing from how good it had felt. And Noah just held you until you were ready to move again.

A couple minutes passed and you stirred a little in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest, still flushed and glowing from everything he'd just done to you.

But then as you shifted slighlty, you felt it.

Pressed firm against your thigh.

He was still hard.

“You really watched all that and didn’t cum?” You smirked against his skin.

He let out a soft laugh.

“Barely. I was this close.”

“Seriously?” You tilted your head up.

He gave you a look.

“Yes. I almost came in my pants. Had to breathe through it like I was in labour or some shit.”

You grinned, playful now, as your fingers danced over his chest.

“Well, we can’t have that...”

His brows lifted, caught off guard as you slid down between his legs, settling down on your knees on the floor.

“Wait-”

But you were already pulling at the waistband of his sweats.

He hissed softly as his cock sprang free, flushed, swollen, leaking. It looked painful.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight, and then you looked up at him. He looked wrecked already, pupils blown wide as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the base of his cock, just by his balls.

“You don’t have to-”

“Noah, I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

The first time you’d ever done this, a week ago, he’d been gentle. He was careful with you, and he talked you through every movement, stopping often to check you were okay.

But now?

Now you wanted to be more messy with it, you were desperate to taste him again, to see the effect you had on him.

You licked up his length, keeping your eyes on his, before wrapping your lips around the head, giving it a soft kiss, and then sucking him into your mouth.

“Jesus, fuck-” He groaned, already losing his mind.

You took more, hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue swirl around him. He was salty, warm and perfect. Your hands curled around what you couldn’t take, stroking him as you sucked him harder, messier, leaving his dick coated in spit and precum.

“God, you’re getting so good at this.” He gasped, one hand sliding into your hair, not to push you, just anchoring himself.

The praise only made you more confident, and hungrier.

You moaned around him, watching how his thighs tensed, how his abs flexed, how his jaw clenched.

And then his voice broke, ragged and trembling.

“Fuck, baby... I’m not gonna last-”

Hearing how wrecked and desperate he sounded only made you work harder, wanting him to cum for you again.

He cursed, hips bucking once, making you take him deeper in your mouth, before he caught himself.

“You want me to come in your mouth this time?... think you can take it?”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, lips stretched around his cock, and nodded.

That did it for him.

His whole body trembled as he came, moaning your name, spilling his warmth down your throat.

You swallowed every drop, and kept sucking, milking him truly, until he gently tugged your hair, breathless.

“Fuck... Thank you.”

You pulled off with a soft pop, licking your lips, flushed and smug.

Noah stared at you like he might combust.

“You just-”

“Swallowed,” you finished, proud, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “And it felt good.”

He dragged you into his lap and kissed you breathlessly, his fingers cradling your jaw.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

"Seriously?" Your eyes narrowed in disbelief, "Out of everyone that's ever sucked your dick-"

"You know you're different, baby." He whispered, kissing your cheek, "You actually mean something to me."

...

Day Two

It was definitely past noon when you woke up, your body half draped over Noah’s in your bed. The room was warm, but the occasional breeze came in through the open window.

Noah was still asleep beneath you, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist, the other under the pillow by his head. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath you, bare and warm beneath your cheek, and you lazily traced the lines of the ink on his skin.

Your thigh was resting in between his, tangled beneath the sheets. His body was warm beneath yours, and as you shifted ever so slightly, you suddenly became aware of two things.

One, you were still bare from the waist down.

Two, Noah was hard.

You swallowed hard, looking up at him. He was still out cold, softly sleeping. His lips slightly parted, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks liek he was dreaming.

You should leave him be, let him rest. It’s not often he gets the chance to sleep in.

But instead, your hips rocked ever so slightly, your core pulsing as you heard him groan in his sleep.

Still half asleep yourself, your hips moved again, this time a little more intentionally. Slow, gentle friction, just enough to get a little more of that sleepy contact. You weren’t even sure if you were doing it for you or for him. Probably both.

You felt him stir beneath you, a hand sliding up your back beneath your (his) shirt, palm splayed between your shoulder blades as he let out a groggy hum.

“Morning,” he rasped, his voice gravelly from sleep. “You tryna kill me, or…?”

You smiled, nose brushing against his collarbone.

“You’re the one poking me!”

“Natural reaction to waking up with you rubbing on me like a needy little-“

Before he could finish, his phone rang sharply on the nightstand. You both froze.

Noah groaned like he’d just been shot.

“No fucking way…” You watched him reach for it blindly, groaning again as he checked the screen. “It’s Folio.”

“What? Why’s he calling you at-“ you glanced at the clock, “…11:47?”

“Folio.” He answered with a sigh. “This better be important.” You could only hear Noah’s side of the call, but his expression immediately shifted from annoyance to something that resembled amusement. “You’re where?” He ran a hand down his face. “Dude. Are you serious? Who the fuck falls asleep on a stranger’s couch and gets kicked out by their parents?”

You sat up a little, snorting into the blanket.

“Yeah, fine, I’ll come and get you.” Noah sighed.

He hung up and flopped back into the pillow with a groan.

“What happened?” You asked, already grinning.

“He went to some party last night, got drunk, crashed on the couch. Turns out it was someone’s family home. The parents found him when they came home this morning and kicked him out.”

You tried not to laugh, but failed.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s sitting on the front porch like a stray cat.”

You collapsed back into the sheets, covering your face.

“God, I can’t believe this.”

Noah rolled over, nuzzling your neck with a dramatic sigh.

“We were literally about to have sleepy morning sex. Now I have to put on pants and rescue a moron.”

“Poor baby.” You teased, pouting as you stroked his hair gently.

“Don’t move… As soon as I get back we’re finishing what you started.”

“I won’t.” You kissed the top of his head. “Now go get your friend.”

After Noah got dressed and left, you stayed there, in bed, that ache only growing between your thighs. You pressed your thighs together, trying to get some kind of relief, but it was no good. You couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt pressed against your thigh.

You tried again to use your fingers, touching yourself to try to relieve the ache, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't him.

Your eyes drifted over to the nightstand, where the toy Noah had given you yesterday was tucked away.

He did say he got it for you for when you needed something, or someone.

With a sigh, you got up. You cleaned the toy, and lied back in your bed, legs spread, staring up at the ceiling like it might help you.

You reached down again, between your thighs, and you were certainly slick. You slid the tip of the toy through your folds, quite enjoying the way the head felt as it caught your clit. You found your hips moving as if they had a mind of their own, rocking with every move you made.

You angled it to your entrance, your eyes screwing shut as you eased it in... but surprisingly, it didn't hurt. There was still a slight sting, but once the tip had slipped in, you let out a breathy moan, feeling nothing but pleasure as the rest filled you.

Once the whole length of the toy was in, you felt your walls clench around it. It almost felt perfect...

With one hand holding the base of the toy, the other found your clit again, rubbing tight little circles as you began to ease the toy out, before pressing it back in again, letting your head fall back against the pillows.

The soft squelch of your arousal made you blush, even though you were the only one to hear. It was embarrassing how wet you were, how easy it was to imagine it was him instead. That it was Noah pushing into you, whispering things in your ear, calling you a good girl while his hands gripped your waist and guided every stroke, like he had done when it was your first time.

You whimpered, hips beginning to rise to meet the thrust of the toy, your fingers never easing on your clit. It felt good, so good, but still not quite good enough. Not as good as him.

Your legs trembled as you started to move faster, the toy gliding in and out with more ease now, your slick coating it completely. You moaned quietly, biting your lip, you were getting close, you could feel it building.

And then you heard the creak of the floorboards outside your room...

You jumped. The sudden sound pulled you out of the daze you were in, your eyes half lidded as you gazed towards your bedroom door.

Noah was back.

He stood in the doorway, eyes wide, chest rising and falling like he’d just run the whole way back.

His gaze dropped to between your thighs, the toy he had given you buried deep inside you, your fingers still rubbing your clit, and his expression changed in an instant.

“Oh, don’t stop.” He said, shutting the door behind him.

Your breath caught.

“Noah-”

He was already walking toward you, his eyes dark with something intense. Something possessive. Something only for you.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he murmured, dropping onto the bed beside you. “You were gonna cum without me? Let me miss all the fun?”

You couldn’t speak. You just whimpered, nodding helplessly.

He leaned closer, taking the toy from your hand and sliding it in deep, making you cry out.

"Since you clearly couldn’t wait,” he smirked, settling back against the pillows, “Then do it right.”

He carefully pulled the toy out, slick and warm, and guided it to sit between his legs and tapped the spot in front of him.

“Ride it for me.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Noah…”

He smiled, wicked and soft all at once.

“You said you wouldn’t move. So now you’re gonna ride this, and cum nice and messy for me.”

Still breathless, you nodded, climbing into his lap and straddling the toy between his thighs. He helped you to guide yourself back down onto it, gasping as it filled you again, and you felt it deeper this time.

Noah’s hands rested on your waist, grounding you.

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice thick. “Just like that... Touch your clit again for me.”

You began to move, doing as he said with your eyes locked on his. Every rock of your hips dragged the toy just right against your walls, your clit rubbing deliciously against your palm as you worked yourself closer and closer...

And all the while, Noah watched you, a lazy expression on his face as he leaned back against the pillows, arms behind his head, just taking in the sight in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, watching your body tremble. “You look so pretty when you’re desperate for it.”

You didn't realise tears had slipped down your cheeks until Noah's thumb came up to wipe them. The pleasure was so overwhelming. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, hips still rocking, but your body trembling now, so so close to breaking.

Noah’s gaze never wavered, his eyes remained dark and intense, yet still full of admiration as he watched you. His cock was hard in his jeans, painfully so, and the sight made something flutter in your chest... a fierce, tender want to give back, to make him feel just as good as he always makes you.

Slowly, carefully, you slid your hand down, fingers trembling, hands a little shaky as they found the waistband of his jeans. You hesitated a moment, then unbuttoned them before gently pushing them down, freeing his cock.

“Can I?” You whispered, eyes searching his face for permission as you started to work his length with your hand, "I need it... Want to feel it in me again..."

"Are you sure, baby? Are you ready?" He asked, his voice cautious even as he bit back a groan.

"Yes... Please..."

He hesitated, just for a moment, then nodded, lips parted, voice rough.

"Okay... but take it slow, I don't want to hurt you."

With a shaky breath, you the toy out from between your folds, still slick and warm, and slid yourself down, inch by delicious inch, until you were fully seated on him. The heat of him filled you in a way no toy ever could.

A shudder rolled through your body as your hips adjusted to his length, the slow stretch pulling a gasp from your lips. Your hands found his shoulders, and Noah’s hands found your hips, steadying you, guiding you as you rocked gently back and forth.

“Shit... you feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, one hand trailing up your spine to cradle your neck. “You’re perfect.”

...

You weren’t sure how long you've been like this, pressed to his chest, legs still trembling slightly, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. Your legs were tangled with his, your inner thighs gooey, your bodies still slick, a reminder what just happened. Your cheek rested over his heartbeat, and you had never felt so safe.

Noah stroked your back slowly, fingertips barely there, drawing lazy shapes down your spine. One of his hands moved to gently cup the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair in a soothing rhythm. You melted into it, letting your weight fully settle on top of him.

“You okay?” He murmured, voice rough with tenderness.

You nodded against him.

“Mmhm... I don't think I've ever been better."

“Me too. That was…” He trailed off, hand still in your hair, lips grazing the side of your head. “You were so good, baby. Always are... I'm so lucky you trust me with this.”

Your throat felt a little tight. Not just from his praise, but the way he held you like he was never going to let go, like he wasn't just holding you for your pleasure, but his too. You reached down for the throw blanket at the edge of the bed and tugged it over the two of you.

He let you settle in, nuzzling into your shoulder now, his breath a warm against your skin as you shuffled closer to him.

Just as your eyes were fluttering shut, your phone began to ring from the nightstand.

You groaned quietly, half burying your face in Noah’s shoulder.

“Who the fuck…”

“Want me to check it?” He offered, but you reached for it blindly, blinking at the screen.

“Oh shit, it's dad." You muttered.

"Answer it, baby. Or he'll worry."

So you did, quickly hitting accept and trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Hey!”

“Hey, sweetie,” came his familiar voice, full of warmth. “Just checking in. Everything okay? You doing alright by yourself?”

You sat up slightly, clearing your throat and glancing at Noah, who was watching you sleepily, still sprawled in your bed. His hand was resting on your bare hip, thumb stroking softly.

“Yeah… I’m good.”

There was a pause.

“You sure?” your dad asked gently. “You sound tired, honey.”

“I just woke up from a nap,” you lied smoothly. “But I’m safe. I’m not alone, anyway.”

“Oh?” He asked, and you could practically hear the teasing in his voice.

“Noah’s staying here for the week.”

You heard a low chuckle.

“Ah, good. Glad he’s there. Kid’s practically part of the family at this point.”

You smiled without realising.

“Yeah. He’s been... taking care of me.”

“Always knew he would,” your dad said softly. “You tell him I said thank you.”

“Noah,” you turned your head toward him, covering the phone slightly. “My dad says thank you.”

Noah stretched a little, grinning.

“Tell him he still owes me a steak dinner, it's the least I deserve for putting up with you.”

You laughed and passed it on. Your dad chuckled.

“Little shit. I’ll grill him two when I’m back... Alright, I’ll let you get back to your day, well, nap. Just wanted to check in. Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

“And tell Noah I love him too, even if he eats all the snacks when he’s over.”

“I heard that!” Noah called in the background.

Your dad just laughed.

“You take care of each other.”

“We always do.” You promised, before the call ended.

You set the phone aside, heart just a little fuller than before. Noah stretched his arms out with a dramatic yawn, then reached for you.

“C’mere.”

You crawled back into his arms without hesitation, letting yourself sink into his chest again. You could feel the slow beating of his heart against your cheek.

“Your dad loves me.” He muttered smugly.

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“Yeah, yeah... Don’t let it go to your head."

…

Day Three

It was hot. Too hot.

Noah was sat inside, wearing just a pair of black shorts, whilst you were lying outside under the sun, wearing just a bikini- well, bikini bottoms... you didn't bother with the top. You knew it would only be Noah here to see, and you had nothing to hide in front of him, and your neighbours couldn't see you anyway.

You had been waiting for Noah to finally join you for a while now, you wanted to ask him for help with the sunscreen, but he'd been too busy taking work calls all morning.

But then you heard the back door slide open.

“Noah?” You called without lifting your head.

"Hm?" He hummed, and you looked over, seeing him standing at the back door with a glass of water in one hand, his black shorts slung low on his hips, and nothing else.

“Will you put sunscreen on me?” You asked with a small smirk.

He stepped outside, already smiling, like he’d been waiting for you to ask.

“Is this an invitation or a test?”

“Bit of both.” You shrugged lazily.

That made him chuckle, and the sound did something to your stomach. He set the glass down on the small table beside you and picked up the bottle of sunscreen, flipping it open as he stepped behind you.

You felt the first cold splash hit the middle of your back and flinched.

“Too cold?” He asked softly, smoothing his hands across your skin.

“A little.”

His hands were warm and slow, spreading the lotion in careful strokes down your back, over your shoulders, down each side. His fingers slid beneath the curve of your arm, then dipped to trace along the edge of your ribs. When he reached your waist, he let out a quiet breath.

“You forgot your top." He said with a soft chuckle.

You turned your head slightly, offering a smug little grin.

“No, I didn’t.”

He chuckled, then shifted to kneel beside you, his thighs pressing against the lounger’s edge. You felt his gaze drag across your body, the subtle curve of your side, the dip of your waist, the soft swell of your chest pressed against the towel beneath you.

“I’m gonna have to flip you.” He murmured.

You raised your eyebrows.

“You’re not even gonna buy me dinner first?”

He grinned and carefully slipped his hands beneath you. You let him guide you onto your back, arms folding loosely over your stomach as you laid exposed under the sun, nipples hardening immediately in anticipation.

His gaze darkened, then flicked to the sunscreen.

“I should do your front too, y'know... just to make sure you don't miss a spot.”

“You really should.” You grinned.

Noah squeezed more lotion into his hands and rubbed them together, then lowered them to your chest. He started slow, palms covering your breasts, thumbs gliding over your nipples in soft, rhythmic circles, making them harden under his touch.

You closed your eyes and breathed in the moment, the warmth of his touch, the sun on your skin... you felt like you were in heaven.

“You’ve got the prettiest tits." He murmured, more to himself than you.

You bit your lip, a small moan slipping out as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, brushing each one until your hips shifted unconsciously against the lounger.

“Okay,” you murmured, voice low. “You’re pushing your luck.”

He only smirked.

“You’d tell me if you wanted me to stop.”

Your answer was silence, nothing but a slight smirk.

His hands drifted lower, gliding down your stomach, skimming the waistband of your bikini bottoms. His thumbs tucked under the sides, pausing.

“May I?”

“Please.” You nodded, already breathless.

He pulled them down slowly, exposing you fully. You felt the breeze against your slickness, before his hands were there, spreading sunscreen over the soft curves of your hips, then lower, until his fingertips brushed between your legs.

You whimpered.

“Look at you,” he murmured, kneeling beside you again. “All slick and warm already. You been laying out here with your tits out, just waiting for me to come out and touch you?”

“Maybe." You breathed.

He leaned down, breath ghosting over your stomach.

"God, you don't know what you do to me."

Two fingers dipped down, stroking gently through your folds. He teased you slowly, gathering your wetness, spreading it across your clit before slipping one finger inside, then two, curling just right.

You gasped, back arching off the towel.

His other hand stroked lazy circles over your clit with his thumb, adjusting the rhythm each time you clenched around his fingers.

Then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, his slick thumb grazed the tight ring of your other hole, rubbing it so softly.

You jolted with a quiet cry, and he chuckled, low and dark.

"Little bit of sunscreen must’ve slid there... I was just wiping it off.”

You moaned, biting into the edge of the towel as his fingers picked up pace.

“That felt good, huh?” Noah murmured, his voice low and rough with want as he leaned closer, the tip of his thumb teasing that tight hole again, slipping just the slightest fraction inside.

"Noah..."

Your breath hitched, hips raising involuntarily into his touch, but he was gentle, patient, his fingers curling just right inside you, slow and deliberate.

His mouth found your clit before you could even think to pull away, and it was warm and wet, tongue flicking and swirling in messy, eager licks that made your body shudder. His breath was hot and uneven against your skin, lips sucking and nibbling just enough to make you want more, want him to never stop. You felt like you were in heaven.

You bit down harder on the towel, muffling your loud moans as he slid his thumb continued to tease your other hole, circling it with soft, tantalizing strokes.

“God, you taste so good.” He whispered, lips against your clit, voice thick with need as his fingers pumped slowly inside you.

Your hands trembled, clutching the towel as your legs shook, hips bucking to meet his mouth and fingers, desperate for more friction, more pressure.

“Fuck, you’re gonna soak this towel, aren’t you?” He murmured against your skin, lips ghosting up your belly toward your mouth, catching yours in a wet, breathy kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your answer was a desperate, broken moan, body arching as the pleasure kept building in yout belly, making you feel a little lightheaded.

He held you down softly, fingers fucking you slow, mouth worshipping every inch he could reach. Your fingers tangled into his hair as you felt yourself about to tip over the edge...

When you finally came, shaking and gasping, your cries swallowed by his mouth, Noah kept going, working you through it.

Once it started to get too much, you grabbed his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, and he pulled back a little to look at you.

"Holy shit," Noah breathed, "That was so fucking hot."

But you weren't taking any time to recover.

"Inside. Now," you said, shooting up from the lounger and grabbing his hand, "I need you to fuck me."

You dragged him through the door, and as you were about to walk him through the house, he tugged you back, grinning as he muttered a "you're not making it past here," before he set you onto the kitchen counter.

You could see the bulge through his shorts, and you assumed he wasn't wearing any boxers underneath, and that was confirmed as he yanked his shorts down, letting his cock spring free. It was already leaking, and painfully hard.

You barely had time to gasp before he grabbed your knees and spread your legs wide.

“No teasing." You whispered, breathless and needy, "Please."

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and guiding you toward the edge of the counter, and you could feel just how sweaty his palms were against your skin, and how slick the small of your back already was against the countertop.

He lined himself up, eyes drifting down to where you were spread for him. His brows drew together, just slightly.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, but barely got the chance to breathe before he began to press inside slowly, carefully.

The stretch still ached a little. You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as he eased into you, inch by inch.

“Shit-” you whimpered, clinging to the edge of the counter as he bottomed out.

Noah stilled, breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his brow as he braced himself.

“You okay?” he asked, voice strained.

You nodded quickly, even though your eyes were still closed.

“Just… give me a second.”

His lips brushed your shoulder, a soft kiss as his hands stroked your back, grounding you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered. “So tight.”

You let your legs relax a little around him, your body adjusting to the stretch. The burn slowly gave way to fullness, to pressure, to pleasure.

“Okay,” you whispered, forehead falling against his. “You can.. move.”

He obeyed with restraint, pulling back slowly and sinking into you again. Not rough or teasing. Just deep, slow strokes that had both of you panting from the heat and the sheer closeness of it all.

Your bodies were shining with sweat, skin sliding against skin, chests heaving in tandem. The kitchen felt sweltering now, filled with the sounds of soft gasps and skin hitting skin.

Your head fell back as your moans grew louder.

“Fuck, Noah-”

His grip tightened on your hips, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not, you won't,” you whimpered. “Please don’t stop.”

You clung to his shoulders, fingers digging into sweat-slick skin as he kept the pace steady and deep. Every thrust made your breath stutter, every slow drag out and push back in felt like it lit a new fuse inside you.

But it wasn’t enough anymore. You needed something more.

“Harder...” You whispered, almost too quietly.

He didn’t hear you over the sound of his own breath, heavy and ragged in your ear.

You said it again, louder this time.

“Noah... harder. Please.”

He paused mid thrust, damp forehead pressing to yours. His eyes searched your face, like he needed to be sure.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“I need it. You won't hurt me... I can take it. Please.”

Something in him snapped then.

He grabbed your hips tighter, pulling you flush to the edge of the counter so you were practically haning off, and his next thrust knocked the air from your lungs. It was faster, rougher, deeper than ever. No hesitation now. Just sweat and skin and the sound of him panting your name like it was a prayer.

“Fuck- yes, like that-” you gasped, head falling back as he picked up speed. The slap of skin echoed in the kitchen, lewd and slick and so filthy you almost couldn’t believe it.

He growled low in his throat as he drove into you harder, his restraint completely gone.

“This what you wanted?” he panted, his mouth hot at your jaw, your neck. “Wanted me to fuck you like this, huh?”

“Yes,” you choked out. “God, Noah, please don’t stop.”

Your legs trembled where they wrapped around him, your arms wrapping around his neck tighter as he fucked into you fast and relentless. Every inch of your skin burned, not just from the heat but from how good it felt to finally give in, to let him wreck you like this.

You could feel your orgasm building fast, that white hot pleasure, tight and desperate in your belly.

“I’m so close...” You gasped, barely getting the words out.

“Let go for me,” he grunted, slamming into you with everything he had. “I need to feel it... Need to feel you cum on my cock again...”

And with a broken cry, you did. Your legs shook, back arched, clenching so tight around him that it dragged a curse from his lips and sent him spiralling right after you.

He buried himself deep one last time, shuddering as he came, and then collapsed forward, arms braced on either side of you, both of you breathless and ruined in the heat.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your hearts pounding and the soft whir of the ceiling fan that was doing absolutely nothing overhead.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, boneless and buzzing, "We did it..."

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “I'm definitely calling this week a vacation.”

The both of you took a moment before pulling apart, and you hissed as he finally pulled out, leaving you a little sore. Noah helped you down from the counter, your legs still trembling.

“Shower?” he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion, "Then we can clean up in here after... I'm just too hot and sweaty to think right now."

You nodded, barely able to form a word as he guided you down the hall.

...

The cold water was a shock at first, but it felt incredible, and rather refreshing. Noah stood behind you under the spray, arms wrapped around your waist as you both just let the water do its work. The quiet was soft, intimate. You leaned back against his chest, his hands gently smoothing soap over your skin.

After a moment, you tilted your head, looking up at him with a teasing little smile.

“You think you could go again…?”

"I want to,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your wet shoulder. “Believe me, I really do.”

You looked up at him, brows slightly furrowed.

“So… why not?”

He gave a breathy laugh, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear.

“Because of something called the refractory period.”

“The what?” You asked, your head tilted.

“It’s basically the time I need to, uh… recharge.” He smirked. “My body just doesn’t work like yours does... Once I finish, I need some time before I can go again.”

“Oh…” you blinked, then looked down between the two of you, a little disappointed. “That sucks.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

“Hey... You know I’ll make it up to you. I just need a break, angel.” That was a name he had only ever called you once. Your heart did a little dance at the sound of it again, and you felt your cheeks heat up, just as it had the first time. It was gentler than most of the names he used. Not teasing, not cheeky, just soft, like he meant it.

“Fine,” you sighed, “But only because you called me angel.”

That made him chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned forward and ran a hand through your hair.

“Knew that would work.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence after that, finishing the shower together like you had all the time in the world- which right now, you did. There was no rush, and no need to fill the quiet between you. His hands moved carefully over your skin as he helped you wash the soap away, fingers lingering at your hips, your spine, the slope of your shoulders. It wasn’t sexual in the slightest, but thoughtful. He paid attention and was careful with your body, knowing it was something he’d been trusted with, and he took that seriously, even now.

The water had cooled you both down a little. You tipped your head back to let it wash over your face one last time while he squeezed out the water from his hair.

When you finally stepped out, he offered you a towel first, waiting until you’d tucked it securely around your chest before drying himself off. The mirror had fogged up completely, blurring both of your reflections in the glass as you passed on the way out of the room.

You both went back to your room to get dressed, the air hot and sticky again. You dried off, though you weren't sure if you were damp from the shower anymore, or if you were already sweating again from the heat.

“It’s still so damn hot." You murmured, pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, nothing beneath. It was too hot.

He glanced over from where he was rifling through his bag, pulling out a pair of shorts, eyes raking over you lazily.

“I know. The shower barely helped.” He sighed.

"We could always get in the pool..." You suggested, a smirk creeping up on your face.

"Hell no," Noah laughed, "Last time we were in your pool you almost drowned me."

"Hey," you pouted, "Isn't that the point of a splashing contest? Who can splash the hardest?"

Noah chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair.

"Okay, fine, we’ll get in the pool. But first-" He pointed toward the door. "We better clean up in the kitchen."

You nodded and followed him, your bare feet soft against the floor as you made your way down the stairs. The warm summer evening breeze drifted through the open windows across the house, giving you a slight relief from the heat.

The kitchen was a little messy, some dishes in the sink, a few crumbs on the counter from your earlier snack, but nothing too bad.

Until you saw the island counter. Where Noah had fucked you on...

You felt your cheeks heat at the sight of it, you hadn't even noticed how you knocked a few things on to the floor, or how you had left a little trail of slick. You felt a little embarrassed, guilty even.

You stood still for a second, lips parting in a soft exhale.

“Yeah…” Noah said, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes landed on the same spot. “We really did a number in here, huh?”

You shot him a look, fighting back a smirk.

“You did a number on me.”

“I try my best.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the roll of paper towels, and a spray bottle of disinfectant.

“You’re cleaning that part. It was your idea to do that here, so it’s your mess- I was gonna take us to the bedroom.”

“Gladly.” He smirked, taking them from you and getting to work as you picked up some of the letters and paper that you had knocked off, setting the, back on the side.

You both moved around the kitchen, cleaning and tidying things up so you wouldn't compalin about it tomorrow. The domesticity of it was almost a little strange but a comforting contrast to what you'd gotten up to earlier. Occasionally, your arms would brush or his hand would land on the small of your back as he moved past, casual and thoughtless but made you feel warm inside.

When the kitchen was clean, sparkling even, you wiped your hands on a towel and turned to him.

“Pool time?” You grinned.

“You gonna try and drown me again?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No!" You said, eyes playful, “Just wanna get in to cool off, no contests, no drowning...”

“Alright, fair enough.” Noah chuckled.

You headed upstairs to change, peeling off your tank top and shorts and changing into another bikini, this time actually putting on the top. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and smiled, feeling a little more put together than you were earlier.

When you came back down, Noah was waiting, sitting in the living room shirtless, wearing only his boxers.

“Seriously? No swim trunks?” You asked, laughing.

He shrugged sheepishly.

“Didn’t bring any. Figured these would do.”

You bit your lip, a mischievous idea forming.

“Wait here.”

You disappeared into the guest room, the one that used to be his room when you were both younger and he's stay for the summer. You rummaged through the drawers, knowing there were still a few of his old things here.

Suddenly, a pair of old, bright orange and blue swim trunks caught your eye.

“Found something!” You called out.

Noah came in and held them up, a jokingly horrified look on his face.

“No way I'm fitting into those.”

“Want me to help you try?” You smirked.

He shook his head, laughing.

“Nah, I’m good. Boxers it is.”

You gave him a sly look, stepping closer.

“You know... you could ditch the boxers and just get naked. Nobody else is gonna see.”

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You like my dick that much, huh?”

You couldn’t help the blush spreading across your cheeks, looking away quickly.

“I- well, it’s not that…”

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the stairs.

“C’mon, pool time. Let’s cool off.”

...

The water felt like heaven after suffering in the heat all day, it was cool against your skin as you waded in up to your chest. Noah ducked under for a second before resurfacing with a sharp exhale, shaking water from his hair like a dog, and laughing when droplets landed on you.

“Gross,” you teased, wiping at your face with a grin. “You’re like a labrador.”

He shrugged, floating lazily on his back.

“Labradors are loyal. I’ll take it.”

You rolled your eyes, swimming over to lean your arms on the pool edge, gazing up at the hazy, starry sky. And suddenly it was like nothing had ever changed, like you were both still kids, playing in the pool on a summers night until your parents would call you in for bed.

You sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips at the memories that came flashing back to you.

“Remember when we used to stay out here until our fingers looked like raisins?”

Noah laughed from behind you, swimming closer.

“And your dad would get mad at us, all dramatic like, ‘You’re gonna catch a cold!’ in the middle of July.”

“He wasn’t wrong, though,” you grinned. “I got sick that one summer.”

“You got sick because you drank half the pool water trying to hold your breath longer than me.”

You turned to look at him, eyes narrowing with playful offense.

“That’s not what happened!”

“That’s exactly what happened.” He gave you a gentle splash. “You were a menace.”

You both laughed, and then it quieted. Just the sound of the water lapping against the tiles, the faint hum of night insects.

“I miss it sometimes,” you admitted, glancing up at the sky again. “How simple everything was back then. We didn’t worry about anything. It was just us, and midnight snacks, and scary movies we weren’t supposed to watch.”

Noah floated beside you, resting his arms on the edge like yours, shoulder brushing yours gently.

“Yeah. Everything felt big and exciting. Like we had all the time in the world.” A beat passed before he added, “But even now, it still kinda feels like that. With you.”

You looked over at him. He was staring up at the stars too, a soft look on his face, one you’d learned to read over the years, to recognise. The version of Noah that was calm and open and honest. The version only you ever got to see.

“I was thinking earlier,” you said, voice quiet, “About how much has changed. About how much we’ve changed. And I dunno. It’s kinda wild that I still feel like I know you better than anyone. Like even now, I know you have your band and everything... but it sometimes feels like it’s still just you and me.”

His eyes met yours, something wistful settling behind them.

“Yeah. A lot’s changed, but it’s weird how sometimes it still feels like we're still just those kids... Like nothings changed, even though everything has.”

You glanced sideways at him. He looked the most relaxed you've seen him in ages, no tension in his brows, no lines of exhaustion. Just him. Your best friend. The boy you’d grown up with. The man who now knew your body and your heart in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m really glad you came over.” You said softly. He turned his head, meeting your eyes.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly, and you blinked away the sting behind your eyes as you turned around.

“I just... I don’t say it enough. But I’m so fucking grateful for you, Noah.” You looked down at your fingers tracing idle circles in the water. “You always know exactly what to say. It’s like you have this... sixth sense for when I’m not okay. You don’t even have to ask, you're just there. Like when everything’s too loud in my brain, you know how to make it quiet. You make it bearable.”

“You do that for me too,” he said, almost like it hurt to admit. “Every time I feel like I’m slipping, like I don’t even know or recognise myself… it’s you. You pull me back. You always remind me of who I am, who I was before everything got so complicated, before the band all that...”

The lump in your throat grew, your chest aching like your ribs couldn’t quite contain everything inside you. You gave a broken sort of laugh, the kind that came with tears that stung behind your eyes.

“I don’t know who I’d be without you,” you whispered. “I really, really don’t.”

Noah moved closer, silent for a moment. Then, beneath the water his fingers found yours, threading through them with an ease that felt like breathing.

“You’ll never have to know,” he said softly. “I swear to god, you’ll never have to find out.”

The emotion welled, so raw in your chest that it burned, but just as your lip trembled and your eyes glossed over, a sharp splash of water hit your face.

You gasped, blinking through the droplets to see Noah grinning wickedly, both hands poised and ready for another splash.

“Did you seriously just...?”

“Oh, I seriously just!” He grinned.

You playfully narrowed your eyes.

“Okay... It’s on, bitch!”

*SPLASH*

...

Day Four

It was the fourth day Noah had been over, the fifth day you've been home alone, and you've run out of food in the house. The fridge was empty and the cupboards were bare. You leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the empty pantry like it might magically fill itself.

Noah shuffled in behind you, eyes scanning the shelves as if he could conjure lunch out of thin air.

“Alright, what do we have here?” He muttered, digging through the cans and boxes on the top shelf- where you couldn't reach. Then he froze, holding up a dented tin with a faded label.

“Are these… peaches?” He asked, squinting.

You glanced at the label.

“Uh… fifteen years out of date.”

Noah held it up like some rare archaeological find.

“How is this still here? You’ve moved twice since then.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Guess it's my parents' backup plan for the apocalypse.”

“No way I’m opening that.” Noah said, tossing it back onto the shelf with mock disgust.

"So... grocery store?"

...

The windows were down, letting the warm breeze swirl through the car as Noah’s fingers tapped along the steering wheel, his favourite fall out boy cd playing.

“I still can’t believe we went through an entire week’s worth of food in two days,” you muttered, scrolling through the notes app on your phone where you’d hastily started a shopping list. “Like... what the fuck.”

Noah snorted, shooting you a sideways glance.

“I can. We’ve either been fucking, sleeping, or acting like actual children in the pool...You wore me out, I needed fuel.” He smirked.

“Oh my god." You huffed dramatically, "So it’s my fault we went through everything in the fridge?”

“Yes,” he said again, completely serious. “You moan like that and expect me not to chug three glasses of mango juice after?”

You burst out laughing, slapping his arm lightly as he turned into the store parking lot.

“I can’t with you.”

“You could, and you did... a couple times, if I recall correctly.”

“Noah!” You squealed, laughing as you covered your face with your hands.

He just chuckled, parking the car smoothly.

“I’m just saying. If we want to survive the rest of the week, we need snacks... and probably some energy drinks, and protein bars...”

You watched him as he took the keys from the engine, taking his phone from his pocket.

“Promise not to embarrass me inside the store?” You asked.

“Absolutely not.”

“Of course not." You sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt as he climbed out.

As he rounded the front of the car to meet you on your side, he reached for your hand, giving it a casual squeeze before tugging you toward the entrance, only letting go to get a cart.

“I swear,” you muttered, nudging him with your shoulder as you walked through the doors, “If you make any dirty jokes while we’re in here, I’m walking home.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But I do have thoughts about cucumbers when I see 'em.”

“Noah!”

He just grinned.

“Love you!”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, grinning right back, “I love you too.”

You walked around for a few minutes, throwing some things you knew you needed into the cart (and some things you definitely didn't.) But just as you were walking down the produce aisle, you spotted something- or someone.

A guy. Alone. He looked like he was in his 60s, his grey hair only covering half of his head. He was stood very still at the end of the aisle, like he'd pause to check his grocery list- but his eyes were very much on you, and he wasn't too subtle about it either.

You looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the fruit as a chill ran over your spine. You moved a little closer to Noah, without even noticing it, your hand lightly brushing his arm as if to anchor yourself.

He didn’t notice at first. Just kept joking about the girth of one particular banana, and taking a picture of it to send to Nicholas.

But as you turned down the next aisle, and the next, you caught sight of the same man again, this time at the far end of the snacks section, pretending to look at a shelf of crackers while still watching you.

You didn’t say anything, but you had a really bad feeling setting in your stomach every time you looked at him, like you had a gut feeling something was wrong.

This time, you actually slipped your arm into Noah’s, and he looked down at you.

“You good?” He asked, a little confused.

You nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Just cold!”

His brows knitted together slightly, but he didn’t press. He let you hang onto him, pushing the cart along with one hand, and kept up the chatter to keep things feeling normal.

You were crouched down comparing jars of pasta sauce when it happened again, only this time Noah noticed too. He glanced up and spotted the guy halfway down the aisle, pretending to browse canned soup while blatantly staring.

His entire demeanour shifted. You felt his body go tense as he straightened beside you. His hand came to rest protectively on your back.

You stood and followed his line of sight.

“...He’s been watching me since the produce aisle." You said softly, "I don't like the way he's-"

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You blinked.

He turned to face you fully.

“Kiss me. Quick.”

“But... we only really kiss when we have sex-”

“Yeah, well,” he said, gently cupping your jaw, “We’re improvising. Just pretend.”

“Noah-”

“Please. Trust me. It's either this, or I go over and knock that guy out."

You hesitated, but only for a second.

And then you leaned up, stood on your tip toes and kissed him.

It was only quick but still felt real, his large hand warm on your cheek, his lips soft against yours. It wasn’t messy or desperate, or anything like that, it was just a simple kiss. Like it wasn’t the first time, and wouldn’t be the last.

When you pulled away, you glanced back. The man had disappeared from the aisle.

“Thank you.” You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding.

Noah just nodded and gently took your hand.

“No problem, but now it's time to find some cereal.”

You both walked down to the cereal aisle, Noah pushing the cart as you walked beside him. The two of you were already arguing over which box to get.

“Okay, please can we be adults about this and just get the knock off brand? It tastes the same.”

“You did not just say that." You gasped, genuinely offended. "The knock off tastes like cardboard, Noah."

“But it’s cheaper, you could get two of 'em for the price of that!”

“But it's better!" You argued, reaching for the bright red box of the real thing. “We deserve the good cereal.”

He shot you a look, amused but stubborn.

“You’re so dramatic... Fine. But I get to pick the pizza we get tonight."

“Deal!” You smirked, victorious as you dropped the overpriced cereal into the cart with a flourish.

He shook his head, laughing under his breath.

“You’re gonna rot your teeth.”

“You’re gonna rot your soul being this grumpy at the cereal aisle.” You shot back playfully, your hands on your hips.

You were still smiling when he nudged you gently with his elbow.

“Hey, can you grab me that one? Blue box... Bottom shelf."

“Why can’t you get it?”

“Because I’m doing the hard part.” He gestured grandly to the cart. “Pushing this thing around while you spend all my money.”

You rolled your eyes but bent down, your arm reaching out to grab the box-

THWACK.

You jolted, letting out a startled squeak as you grabbed the cereal box and whipped your head around to glare at him.

“Noah!” You hissed, eyes wide.

He was already laughing, one hand braced on the shopping cart for support as he nearly doubled over.

“Oh my god, the sound it made..." he tried to hold back his laughter, but failed, "Could I sample that? We've been trying to the perfect drum-"

"No!" You shoved the box into his chest, "You are not sampling my ass!"

"Why? I'd put you in the credits-"

“You’re such a dick.” You tried to fight the smile tugging at your lips, but failed miserably. "You're lucky we're in public."

“Oooh,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “Is that a threat, sweetheart?”

"Noah. Keep walking or I'm beating you ass in the parking lot."

The final aisle was frozen food, and there were a couple things you needed to get, and Noah had already picked a pizza for the two of you to share tonight.

"No," you shook your head, holding back a laugh, "I am not eating chicken nugget pizza!"

"But you said I could choose," he smirked, "You got the expensive cereal, I'm getting the chicken nugget pizza!"

"Noah-"

"Nope!" He grinned, already dropping it into the cart, "It's not up for debate."

"Can't you get... I dunno the pepperoni one or something?"

"But that doens't sound as exciting as chicken nuggets!"

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face and then out of the corner of your eye, you noticed an old couple- they must've been at least in their 70s.

"Awh," the lady smiled soflty, her voice gentle, "Young love."

"Reminds me of when we started dating, all those years ago," her husband- or so you assumed- chuckled, "Remember that argument we had over peas?"

"And I let you win." She smiled, and they both laughed at the memory, before turning their attention back to you and Noah, both frozen in horror, eyes wide.

"Oh!" you rushed out, your voice an octave too high, "We're not... uh, we aren't together!"

"Just friends- best friends!" Noah added quickly, his cheeks pink.

The old lady's smile didn't budge, if anything it frew wider.

"Mhm, sure thing, sweetheart."

"Seen it a million times," her husband added with a wink, "That's love if I've ever seen it."

You and Noah stood in stunned silence as the couple wandered off, still chuckling to themselves.

But it was true, you did love him, and he loved you back, but it was on a level nobody else could understand. It would feel wrong to actually date him, but somehow exploring each others bodies felt so right. You couldn't imagine ever marrying him, but at the same time you couldn't imagine anyone else you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

It wasn't just platonic, but it wasn't just romantic. It was something neither of you could ever explain, something nobody else would ever feel.

...

By the time you got home, your arms were aching from carrying the bags of shopping. You took a quick shower whilst Noah unpacked and put everything away, and then you came back down the stairs in your pyjamas- a tank top and a loose pair of sleep shorts, a different colour to the ones you wore yesterday.

You saw Noah had left the pizzas on the side, the chicken nugget one, and the margarita one he had let you get if you promised to at least try some of his one.

You bent down to open the oven, taking out a couple trays. You didn't even notice how Noah froze beside you, mid-unpacking.

Because as you crouched down, he couldn't help but look... and he swallowed hard at the sight, you had no underwear on...

He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, blood rushing south so fast it made his breath catch. You were still completely unaware, humming softly as you slid the pizzas onto the trays, pushing them into the oven.

It was only when you stood up, all casual, brushing your hands on your thighs before turning to face him.

"What?" You asked, noticing the way his eyes lingered.

"You're not wearing any underwear." He said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Your face flushed instantly.

"Noah!"

"Hey!" He held his hands up, his grin only spreadnig wider. "I'm not complaining!"

You crossed your arms over your chest, cheeks still burning.

"It's more comfortable like this!"

"Comfortable, huh?" His gaze dropped to the hem of your shorts again, shameless, "Well, now I'm the one who's uncomfortable."

Your eyes widened a little, drifting down to where his jeans had grown noticeable tighter.

"Noah..." You said again, more breathless this time.

"You're walking around with your pussy peaking out like that and think it's fair?" He leans in a little, his lips brushing near your ear, his voice dropping an octave, "Do you know what that does to me?"

"I wasn't trying to do anything-"

"You never are," he smiled against your skin, "And that's what makes it worse."

You pulled back a little, staring up at him, feeling heat spread all the way from your chest down to your core.

“Think I can make you cum before the pizzas done?”

You swallowed, the directness of his question making your thighs press together. You nodded, barely, already dizzy with anticipation, making his smirk return.

“Then turn around.”

You did.

Slowly, you pressed your hands to the counter as he sank to his knees behind you, palms trailing down the backs of your thighs.

“Timer says fifteen minutes,” he murmured, tugging your shorts down, his breath hot against your bare skin. “Bet I can make you cum twice in that time.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh, but it melted into a gasp when his hands smoothed up your thighs, thumbs brushing along the crease where your legs met your hips.

“Twice?” You breathed, your voice already trembling with anticipation.

He turned you around so he could look up at you, pupils blown wide, that familiar spark dancing in his eyes.

“You doubt me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, not when he was already pressing a kiss just below your bellybutton, dragging his mouth lower like he had all the time in the world.

“Noah…” You whispered, fingers sinking into his hair.

He hummed at the sound of his name, lips brushing your skin as he looked up again, serious now.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t.” You whispered, shaking your head.

Delicately, he kissed up your thigh, keeping his eyes on yours, before lifting your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you open for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this.” He murmured, eyes drifting between your parted lips above and the ones below. His voice was still full of awe, like he still couldn’t believe you let him see you like this.

He didn’t rush. He never did. One hand slid up your other thigh, fingers splayed wide to keep you steady, while his mouth leaned forward to kiss just above your clit.

“Shit…” You whispered, your voice already shaky.

“I know, baby.” He smiled softly against you, “I’ve got you.”

Then, finally, he licked you. One long, deliberate stroke of his tongue that made your hips buck and your hands scramble for something to hold on to- his shoulders, the counter behind you, anything.

You could feel him smile again as he did it once more, slower this time, like he was savoring you. His tongue moved with skill, flicking gently at your clit, then flattening out and dragging across you, again and again, until your head was tipped back and your mouth hung open with silent gasps.

His fingers dug into your hips as you tried to move, but he held you still.

“Stay still for me.” He said gently, lips brushing against your folds.

Your stomach tightened, the lovely feeling building fast. Your hand found his hair and you threaded your fingers through it, clinging to him as he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth, then circled it again, the lewd, wet sounds only making you feel more lightheaded.

It didn’t take long. It never did when he touched you like this. You came with a breathless moan of his name, thighs shaking, body tensing as pleasure rushed through you. He held you through it, mouth still moving gently, drawing all he could out of you.

He gave your clit one final kiss before easing your leg off his shoulder, kissing up your body before his lips met yours.

“Hey, look at that… Only took me five minutes.” He smirked.

Day Five

You and Noah had both spent the entire morning cleaning up the house. You got a text from your dad last night saying he'd be back later today, and although you felt a little upset about this being the last time you and Noah would have all this time together alone, you knew you'd never forget what happened. Not just the sex, or the cuddles, but feeling like it was just the two of you again, like things weren't as complicated as they are.

However, you noticed Noah wasn't fully present all day. You assumed it was just because he was upset that he had to leave so early- although that wasn't the case, you both knew your dad would be fine with him staying.

You both ordered food in for lunch, but Noah barely touched his. You put on an old childhood movie, one you two would always watch together, but it was clear he wasn't paying attention. He was checking his phone every 5 minutes, and you could tell something was bothering him- but usually he'd tell you.

You didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t want to push. But by the time the movie was almost over and Noah still hadn’t laughed at any of your favourite lines, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You paused the film, the room going quiet except for the sound of the ceiling fan and the faint sound of birds outside.

“Noah?”

He blinked, finally looking away from his phone.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on with you?” You studied his face.

“Nothing!" He said too quickly, making you raise a brow.

He sighed, setting the phone down on the armrest beside him.

“I didn’t wanna tell you today...”

“Tell me what?” Your stomach twisted.

He hesitated again, jaw clenched like he was physically holding something back.

“Matt texted me earlier. I'm going back on tour again soon... It’s confirmed.”

You blinked, not understanding at first.

"Okay?... And you don't want to? Or-"

"It's a big tour... supporting one of the biggest bands in the scene. It’s the biggest thing we’ve ever landed.”

“That’s…” you started, heart stuttering, “That’s amazing, Noah!”

He gave a small, grateful smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"But, the thing is..." He paused, exhaling like it was almost painful to talk about.

"What?"

"It's a world tour. I'll be gone for three, maybe four months... And we leave in a few weeks."

Suddenly you felt like you couldn't breathe.

Four months without him. Your best friend, your person.

This whole week had already felt like a long, slow goodbye. Now it felt like you were running out of time all over again.

You felt sick.

You looked down at your hands, fingers curled into your sleeves.

"Were you not gonna tell me?" You asked, not daring to look up at him.

"I was, but I knew you were already upset about this being our last day... I didn't want to make things worse." He said softly, "And I couldn't bare to see that look on your face."

You didn’t realise you were crying until he leaned in and brushed a thumb gently under your eye.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you in until your forehead rested against his. “We’ve done time apart before.”

“Not like this.”

“No,” he admitted. “Not like this.”

There was a moment of silence, and it felt like you were suffocating in it, until he spoke again.

“But I’m coming back to you,” he said. “You know that, right? No matter how far I go. It’s always gonna be you and me.”

“I just wish we had more time.” Your lips trembled.

He kissed your forehead, the only place he’d let himself kiss you when it wasn’t about sex. Something sacred and soft he'd always done.

“So do I,” he whispered. “But we’ve still got a few hours. Let’s make them count.”

"I don't... I don't feel like doing it right now."

"I didn't mean it like that," Noah quickly corrected, "I mean... just spending time together-"

"But that's only going to make things worse when you leave, Noah!" You cried, your hand coming up to your face to silence your sobs.

He only held you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head as he took a deep breath.

"It was all a lie wasn't it... in the pool... I told you I don't know who I'd be without you and you told me I'd never have to find out... And you knew all along you were going to fucking leave!"

"No! I never... the tour sounded too good to be true, I didn't think they'd actually take us... but I can text Matt, I can tell him to pull us out-"

"Don't you dare." You said, glaring at him with red, glossy eyes, "Noah. Ever since we were kids, this is what you wanted. This could be your big break, and I'm not letting you hold yourself back just because of me."

"I would do anything for you, y/n..." Noah said, his eyes now beginning to sting, "...Fucking anything."

"I know..." you said with a sniffle, now wiping the tears from his eyes, "Which is why you have to go. This is your dream, everything you've spent the last 21 years working towards."

"Just don't forget about me," he said, forcing a small chuckle, "I'll make sure I call and text everyday just to check in."

"I'll get sick of you." You laughed, wiping your under eyes.

"As if you'd ever." He smiled softly, before taking your hand in his.

...

The rest of the day passed too quickly for your liking.

You finished tidying the place up and ordered dinner, just something simple, though neither of you were very hungry, and you ate it curled up on the couch. Not talking much, but touching. His hand on your leg. Your foot tucked beneath his thigh. Just a form of quiet reassurance.

By the time the sun started to set, your dad texted: “Home in 30 mins. Can’t wait to see you!!”

You stared at the message, feeling your stomach twist.

Noah caught the look on your face.

“That him?”

“Yeah." You nodded, "He’ll be here soon.”

Noah sighed, brushing his hair back with one hand.

“Guess that’s my cue.”

“You can stay a little longer,” you said quickly. “He won’t care.”

But Noah was already rising, dusting imaginary crumbs from his jeans, trying to look casual.

“It's okay. I don’t wanna make it any harder.”

You followed him to the door in silence, heart hammering. It felt too final, and too sudden.

At the door, he paused, looking at you like he was trying to memorise every part of you, your hair, your eyes, the exact way you were frowning up at him.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he promised again, his voice soft. “Soon as I get home.”

You nodded, but your chest was too tight to speak.

Then he leaned in and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there just a second longer than usual.

And then… he just left.

You stood in the doorway long after his car disappeared down the street, your arms wrapped around yourself, like maybe that would keep the shattered pieces of your heart from spilling everywhere.

When your dad pulled up minutes later, he called out before he even reached the porch.

"Hey, sweetie!"

You forced a smile, meeting him at the door, giving him the tightest hug you could manage. He ruffled your hair, pulled back, and looked at you more closely.

“Everything okay?” he asked, brows pulling together. “You look... upset.”

You let out a shaky laugh.

“I’m fine.”

But he didn’t buy it for a second.

“Where’s Noah? Thought I’d get to say hi.”

“He left a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” He tilted his head. “He’s not staying tonight?”

You shook your head, your throat closing up again. Your dad’s eyes softened.

“What’s going on?”

And before you could stop yourself, it all came spilling out. The week you’d spent together (but leaving out most of the details). The tour. The goodbye. The aching part of you that didn’t want him to go, even if you knew he had to.

Your dad listened the whole time, quietly, nodding along. When you were finished, wiping your face with your sleeve, he gave a small, thoughtful hum.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “We’re going on vacation next week.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“Yeah… I forgot.”

“Why don’t you invite him?” your dad said gently. “One last trip together, it'd be like when he used to join us when you were kids. No pressure. Just... before everything changes.”

You stared at him, wide eyed.

“Are you serious?”

“He’s practically family. I’d love to have him there. And I think he’d like the chance to spend more time with you before he heads out into the world.”

"Shouldn't I ask mum first?"

"Pfft," your dad waved a hand, "She hasn't answered any of my texts all day. And I know she'll say to invite him too, she loves him like a son."

Your heart swelled at that, just a little.

“But I don’t know if he’ll say yes... It's next week, he might already have plans."

“Well, he’d be an idiot not to, unless he has a reason of course. Just ask him anyway.”

You let out a small laugh, sniffling again.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He pulled you into another hug.

“Go call him. Or text. Whatever you kids do.”

You nodded, picking your phone up from the couch and making your way up the stairs. And just as you reached the top, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Noah is calling...

Your heart beated a little faster, but your thumb was already pressing answer.

"Hey!"

“Hi... I just got home,” he said, his voice instantly comforting in your ear. “Did your dad get in okay?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, gripping the banister. “He asked about you.”

“Oh yeah?” you could hear the small smile in his voice. “Tell him I said hi.”

You reached the top of the stairs and padded slowly down the hallway.

“I did.”

There was a pause. A quiet inhale from Noah, like he was trying to decide if he should say more, but before he could, you stopped in front of your bedroom door.

You turned the handle and stepped inside.

And just like that, your throat felt tight again.

The bed was still messy from this morning, the blankets rumpled from where he’d rolled out, the pillow he used still dented, the hoodie he took off still hanging off the edge. It looked like he was still there. Like if you blinked hard enough, he’d be standing next to you, shirtless and sleepy and smirking, ready to wrap his arms around you.

You couldn’t even walk toward it.

“Y/n?” Noah’s voice crackled through the speaker, gentle but unsure. “You okay?”

You swallowed.

“Yeah, I just… I just got to my room.”

"Shit... that's the only room we forgot to tidy..." Then quieter, he asked, “Is it bad?”

You sat down on the edge of your desk chair instead, avoiding the bed completely.

“It’s just exactly how you left it... And your hoodies still here.”

Noah didn’t respond for a second.

"Keep it," he said softly, followed by, "I miss you already."

That nearly broke you.

“Hey…” you said quickly, blinking back the fresh sting behind your eyes. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Anything.”

“My dad reminded me... we’re going on vacation next week. Just a family trip down to Florida, but...” You hesitated, biting your lip. “He suggested you come with us.”

There was a moment of silence on his end.

“I know it’s short notice, and maybe it’s dumb, and you’re probably really busy before tour but-”

“Wait, really?” He cut in. “He said that?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “He was the one who brought it up. Said it could be one last trip. Before, you know… everything changes.”

You waited, barely breathing.

Then came his voice again, soft and so full of emotion you could feel it through the phone.

“I’d love that.” Relief rushed through you so fast your shoulders sagged.

“I’ll book a ticket tonight,” he added. “If he’s okay with it... I’m there.”

“He’s more than okay with it. He called you family, Noah.”

There was a long moment of quiet, until Noah said,

“You’re gonna make me cry again.”

“You’re such a sap.” You laughed through your own teary smile, curling your knees up into your chest on the chair.

“For you?” he said. “Always.”

-------------------------

@dominuslunae @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @theasowle @renegadebirch @super-btstrash-posts @skulla-rxcks @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @ami--gami @h4tef6ck @lilrubles @amelia-acero @uselessperson69 @ichoosetenderomens @dostoievskitty @formula1loversstuff @c0urt-0519 @animal4princess-blog @swissy23 @geminigirlfromfinland @0nlyethereal @kenjipepsi1 @stayonmars @mayaslifeinabox @bruce9818 @itsyaboinoah @popularpopularmonster @bluehairpunklol @lonelydragonlady @montgomery-929496 @missduffsblog @jesuisunchaton @carrieontillmay @devilsfuckingdance @punkprincess1999

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Got bored, decided to make this because (like Floyd Leech) if I'm not in the mood for something I won't do it (sorry for my... many requests).

Trickery Eternally, Even in Hell

Yandere!Forsaken x Cipher!Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; death; swearing; blood

Note: If you don't know who Cipher from HSR is, watch this

That or just read this, lol. I like Cipher, she's cool.

Also, spoiler warning for the HSR Amphoreus quest. You have been warned.

--☆☆☆☆☆--

As the pain of the Flame-Reaver's blade slashes across your body, as the hollow feeing of your missing Coreflame buzzes in your chest, as your golden blood drips from your mouth and iron stains your tastebuds, you know you're dead.

Over petty change, too...

You've toyed around with death for so long. Avoiding it. Teasing it.

But it claimed you in the end, like how you claimed all the treasures you stole throughout your life.

You're the Demigod of Trickery, this can't be how you go out-!

But as your body refuses to move, as your vision fades...

All you can do is have tears ooze from your eyes as you have no choice but to die.

Your web of lies burnt to nothing due to your greed.

...

...

...

Why was this how it had to end?

...

...

...

Then you sit upright, panting and shaking as your hands go to the slash on your torso.

But there's nothing there.

You stare at your body. Your clothes are fine. The blood in your mouth is gone. And your chest? You feel the weight of the Coreflame of Trickery there once more. Warm, cheeky, as if teasing you that you thought it was gone.

But this warmth is different from the one you're familiar with.

This isn't the same Coreflame. But it's a near identical copy.

Did you cheat death? Or is this something toying with you?

As you look around, you find yourself sitting on some sort of dock, close to several cabins made of wood and such, with a lake behind you.

You don't need to be a genius to know this isn't Amphoreus. But this isn't the Nether Realm either, if you can tell. You feel... too alive.

Your tail twitches as you scan the area, before moving. At your usual lightning fast speed, of course. You'd rather not risk losing this Coreflame too.

Once was enough.

You won't fall for the same trick twice.

You refuse.

There are others here. Others who bear resemblance to you while looking different. None of them have cat features like you, however.

But there's one that catches your eye. A man with gray skin, weirdly focusing on flipping a coin.

A shiny golden coin...

Naturally, you snatch it. Why wouldn't you? You're the Demigod of Trickery and a thief. It's what you do.

"What the-?" The man asks, his sunglasses going askew as he looks around wildly, looking at his now empty hand, "Hey-!"

You sit on the roof, flipping the coin in your hand. Has a good weight to it, even if it's clearly not solid gold.

You pause though as the man notices you, and you can't help but grin as others start to notice you too.

"Hehe, hi~"

--☆☆☆--

Apparently you were "Forsaken" when the Flame-Reaver killed you, and now you're in some sort of pocket dimension where you're made to play a death game of sorts a few times a day for a bit, respawning here if you die.

You weren't pleased, but decided that this was better than something like eternal damnation. At least here you weren't alone and could have you own little cabin.

Yet there was almost nothing to steal... alas, alas.

You also gave the man, who you learned was called Chance, his coin back. Better to not piss off those you'd most likely have to try to survive these... Killers... with. Especially because no one knew if dying in the "lobby" was permanent or not.

And when you did start participating in rounds, they were laughably easy due to your speed and how you've long grown used to fighting to survive. Sure, the Killers could have interesting abilities that made them harder to deal with, it was laughably easy to toy with them.

Your favorite was someone called Mafioso though.

---

"Oho, what's this?" You had questioned, snatching the strange gray device out of his hands, speeding past and onto a wall as you looked it over. It looked like nothing on Amphoreus, being able to bend to certain angles, with weird buttons and parts.

You pressed it to your ear like the Killer had, "Hello?"

"Huh? You're not the Boss!" A voice yelped out, and you realized quickly this was a communication device. A grin crossed your face quickly.

"And so what if I'm not?" You had asked, smirking all the while, "He's not that impressive considering I stole this from him..."

"Damn, the Boss is goin' to be pissed at ya." The voice commented, "Who even are ya anyways?"

"Hmmm... why should I tell you?" You giggle, "You know what? I'll be nice. I'm a sneaky, little thief who's nothing but trouble. You won't get my name, though~"

"...a little troublemaker, eh?" The voice says, "Boy, you're an interestin' one."

You laughed a bit, leaning back as you bump into something.

You freezed and looked up, device still to your head, as Mafioso stands behind you, eyes concealed by the shadow of his hat but mouth pressed into a slim line.

"...oh." Is all you say, before quickly dashing out of the way, "Haha! Time is money, and you just had some of mine. Consider it my gift~"

You winked at Mafioso, blowing him a kiss as he stared at you, unmoving.

"Until next time!"

You tossed the phone at him, and he doesn't flinch as he catches it with one hand, and you dashed off while snickering.

Mafioso stood still, pulling the phone to his ear, before he said a quiet and simple sentence.

"I want everything you know about that cat."

---

Honestly, you just bullied the Killers.

You were faster than all of them, it was easy to pop-up, harass them, and run before they could hit you.

---

"NO FAIR, NO FAIR!!!"

"I'LL KILL YOU!!"

"YOU STUPID LITTLE-"

"..."

---

It honestly became one of your greatest sources of amusement. The others just watched as you teased and mocked the Killer, never being hit once.

Were you well-liked? Not necessarily.

You stole a lot. Anything that was valuable, you'd have it in the blink of an eye.

A lot of them just disliked you, or respected your hustle yet weren't exceptionally friendly.

The only one who seemed to mildly like you was 007n7 (weird name, but you didn't care). But even then, he seemed only like he wanted you to calm down and be a little more generous.

Which led to now.

You were lounging on the roof of your cabin, 007n7 awkwardly sitting next to you after you carried him up, flipping one of your coins in your hand.

"...what's it like being a Demigod?" He asked you.

"Mmm..." You sit up, tail twitching, "A lot more respect than what I used to have. Yet even more people despise me than before. Not that I care."

"...really?" 007n7 asks you, raising an eyebrow. "You don't care."

"Nope." You reply, "What does it matter what they think? I'm the Demigod of Trickery. No one's going to like me too much."

"...no one likes me either." 007n7 admits, "At least, not really..."

"I know." You reply, before tossing the coin at him. He blinks, catching it as he stares at it, then back at you.

"Let's be unliked together, eh?" You muse, tilting your head.

007n7 stares at you, before smiling. "...yeah."

--☆☆☆--

You've never died in any round you played.

It was something you bragged about.

You had more Last Man Standing wins than anyone else. You were pleased with this.

No one else was too pleased with this skill of yours. So you decided not to brag about it.

It was strange not to brag and treat yourself all highly, disliking how it made you feel as small as how you were when you were a kid, but you let it go.

You got some more sort-of friends like 007n7. Namely, some traumatized person named Two Time (and they're non-binary, which is kinda a first for you), some mute guy who had access to these fun bombs named Taph, and- somehow- Chance.

Hell, you could even consider that Shedletsky guy as a sort-of friend with how he didn't get too mad at you when you stole something from him.

Mostly because you were the only one who pieced together he had a connection of sorts with 1x1x1x1 when the Killer kept purposefully going after Shedletsky. Then the Killer started going after you after you stole their crown.

You still have it. They still go after you.

It's worth it because you just bully them.

Strangely enough though, they seem to be acting a bit differently... more like they're trying to pick the others off before you.

...oh well. Who cares?

It doesn't mean anything.

--☆☆☆--

Finding Elliot at the door to your cabin was new.

"Oho? Pizza boy standing at my door? Well, hi there~" You muse, leaning against the door frame. "What'dya need, hm?"

"Stop stealing the pizza I throw in rounds." He tells you, arms crossed, "Other people need it more than you do. You know you're fast enough to avoid any hits."

You giggle, "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"And why not?"

You smirk, "Who says I steal it for me?"

...

Elliot left shortly after that.

After that, you noticed Elliot seemed to watch you during rounds.

It was there he saw you give the pizza to those who were at lower health or needed it more.

And you noticed Elliot seemed a little more friendly with you.

It was almost funny, because everyone was gradually becoming more and more friendly with you.

It only weirded you out because no one was really that friendly with you...

--☆☆☆--

You nearly had a heart attack when you found Bartholos was here. Mostly because you've long expected to never see them again.

But that startled feeling soon gave way to joy, ironically enough.

"If it isn't you!" You laughed out, ears twitching, "How did you manage to find me?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" They asked you smugly, "Like I'd reveal it to you."

"Like I'd honestly expect you to tell me anything." You replied, "What are you here for?"

"To get you out of here!" Bartholos gave you an annoyed look, "You're not supposed to be here, boss! You belong in the Nether Realm."

"Oh? Princess Homebody sent you to find me?" You muse, "Very well. I'm ready to move on to the realm of death."

"...who are you and what happened to Cipher?" Bartholos asked you, bemused.

"I played a lot of these games of life and death." You reply, waving your hand, "Just let me say my little goodbye to the folk here. They aren't half bad, after all."

"You want to say goodbye?" They ask you, startled, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why?" You shrug, "It's not like they'll do much to stop us from leaving."

"...touché. All right, go say bye. I'm staying close, though!"

"Very well~"

...

You had no idea just how wrong that "little goodbye" would go until it was far too late.

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers and their ways to help you relax/feel better

Michael Myers

• Michael will sit quietly next to you and just watch you. He's bad at words and expressing emotions, so just being around and listening is what he does best.

• Watch horror movies together. He will let you sit closer to him, wrapped in a warm blanket, and watch a movie. He's not scared, but he likes that you need his warmth and protection. If you're really scared, you can even sit on his lap. He will gently hold you close and stroke your thigh with his thumb in an attempt to give you some comfort.

• Michael can give you a massage. It's not like he can do it the first time, after all, he's used to killing with these hands. But he will try very hard and learn. After all, those big hands can be a lot of fun.

• He will just sit next to you and stroke your hair. He likes your hair, it's so soft and fluffy. His language is physical contact, so it's more than acceptable.

Jason Voorhees

• This cutie is as caring as a big fluffy teddy bear. He'll comfort you with hugs, awkward kisses through a mask, and just touches.

• He will take you to nature so that you can relax. The soft glow of the stars, the warm night wind, the singing of birds and the rustle of the wind. What could be better? Jason will snuggle up to you from behind and stroke your stomach and sides while you watch the shooting stars together.

• In winter, he will bring you all the blankets he finds in the camp. He will make you a mini nest to keep you warm and cozy. He will also light a fireplace and make you a couple of mugs of hot chocolate or coffee. What about marshmallows or cookies? This guy has hands, so he might as well try baking it for you with his own hands.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba makes you jewelry, lots of jewelry. When he realizes that you don't really like bracelets made of bones or teeth (he's offended, but he respects your opinion), he will try to find different stones, flowers and other little things for this. Bubba will even ask Drayton to buy him a needlework set! You know, this kid's set. It's gonna be a very cute pink bracelet.

• Bubba often relieves stress by taking it out on his victims, so he could very well bring you to the basement, give you a knife, and point to a half-dead victim on a meat hook. He will smile and wait for you to try. After all, it's not only fun, but it also helps him protect his family.

• He would try to do you a make up. It's a little sloppy, but he's trying. And he works really softly, so you like it. He could even treat you like some kind of beautiful doll. You know, dress you up like a princess, massage your body, wash your hair if you want. That's how he takes care of you.

• He will also do all the housework himself so that you don't have to work. He wants you to rest! And in his mask of a beautiful lady, he will make the most delicious dinner for you! And ice cream for dessert. What about ice cream with chocolate?

Thomas Hewitt

• He was never taught how to treat a loved one, and he was often surrounded by violence and bullying. That's why he doesn't really know how to please you. But he saw how you smiled when some guy gave you flowers at his mom's store (of course, Tommy was jealous, this guy didn't survive). That's why he decided to give you the flowers he found in this arid place. You liked it, didn't you?

• He could clean up the basement for you. After all, you're so sweet, you probably don't like dirt and blood (in large quantities, he means). So he'll clean up here, and then show you this place with a proud look (not much has really changed in the basement, but please praise him)

• If the victim is wearing beautiful clothes, he will try not to spoil them so that he can give them to you later. No, you're very beautiful and looks great in any outfit, but he wants to please you!

• Tommy may try to offer you his "needlework". He will cleanse the skin of blood as much as possible and will offer you along with threads, needles and beads, which he will only find. You could make a mask for yourself (without comment) or for him. He will proudly wear the mask that you make for him! It's the best gift for him.

• In addition, he will protect you as much as possible from Hoyt and the others. He won't let anyone offend you (especially any victim). Tommy is always on guard of your peace and honor.

Vincent Sinclair

• Vincent will play you some relaxing music on the radio or on a record. It will be something gentle and soft. You could dance together, just like that, without witnesses, in the silence of his basement. His touch is soft but confident, he gently guides you in this slow dance. His hands are on your waist, and his healthy cheek, without a mask, rests on top of your head.

• He will offer you a massage and some kind of wax therapy. He could have asked Bo to buy a special skin wax just for you. You're lying on the bed, and he's gently dripping wax on particularly tense areas. It's like relaxing on pins and needles or something. His hands rub your flesh after the wax, gently, gently, slowly. He wants you to feel good and safe because he loves you.

• You could do wax modeling together. It's soothing, and the warm wax feels good under tired fingers. He could add paint or some soothing oil to the wax for you, just to make you feel good.

• For you, he could put aside all his projects and unfinished wax figures and just spend the evening together. He would hold you close, stroke your back and hair while you relaxed on the bed together. Gentle kisses like tiny butterflies on your skin, a light massage and a gentle whisper. He hopes that it will really help you relax.

Brahms Heelshire

• He's going to be a good boy. Promise. At least for the next ten minutes. He will put away all his toys, things, will not be naughty. Brahms will try to obey and behave well so that you don't have to get angry and swear at him.

• He'll even let you bathe him! He'll try not to cry like a big boy, like your man. It's only advisable that you take a bath with him then. He likes your body close to his, he likes your hands in his hair. You could even shave him neatly or something (he'll be acting up just a little bit)

• He could try to cook something for you! However, after that you will have to clean the kitchen... Still, it's not worth it. But he wants to do something nice for you! Maybe he could just make you some delicious tea and get some cookies out of the cupboard and arrange them nicely. To this "snack" he can pick a rose in the garden to add some romance.

• He's very cuddly, you know. Maybe you'll feel better if you give him a good hug. He's big, warm, and soft. Like a blanket. No, a teddy bear. You could watch a cartoon or read a fairy tale together. He will behave himself.

[unlovablelover]

sick reader x tomura

fluff + nsfw hc of tomura i think

- he wouldn't notice that you're sick

- he spends his time cooped up in his room, trying to grind on whatever game that currently has his attention

- his phone's probably somewhere after he threw it due to rage quitting

- and of course the only way you could tell him you were sick was through that same phone

- let's say you were waaaaaaay too sick, like mushy body burning flesh or whatever idk sue me i never get sick

- "tomura im sick asf pls help me"

- the message isn't read until he gets bored of his game

- when he finally finds his phone and sees your message, instant panic

- doesn't even read the other messages cuz he went to the nearest pharmacy as fast as possible to get u ur meds

- yells at kurogiri (or at least any lov member whoever can cook) to make some soup or something while he goes

- feels very bad but also very focused on getting you back to full health

- slams your door open to find you bundled like a burrito on the bed trembling but also burning up

- instant feel bad attack but he doesn't show it

- he can't actually

- just sucks it up and takes it as his responsibility to take care of u now

- awkwardly shuffles his way to you

- tries to remove the layers you got cuz you're sweating and shit but you just won't budge

- isn't the slightest bit annoyed, he just panics internally (silently too) cuz MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS HE SUPPOSED TO DOOOO

- the soup gets delivered, he shoots the person a glare before dismissing em

- tries to get you to sit up, will probably fail with how you keep falling over

- "man did they get so much worse cuz i was late :(( man fuck this shit"

- enter awkward attempts at getting you to drink (eat? man idfk im not a native english speaker) soup and the meds and also change you outta your sweaty clothes

- he can feel how hot your skin is when he presses his hands over your sides, ribs visible after what he assumes maybe two days of not eating properly

- he makes a mental note to monitor over your eating habits more closely, can't have one of his league members out of commision

- your puffy hot breaths against his neck as he holds you are doing things to him, but he grits his teeth and manages to get you out of your shirt

- lays you back down...maybe stares at your half naked bod for like 5 mins before forcing himself to look away

- was abt to get up when you grabbed his wrist soooo weakly (and it actually tugged at his heartstrings)

- "don't go away...please stay..."

- he doesn't even try to explain he was just going to get you a clean shirt, it's not like you're in any place to actually understand reason or whatever

- sits back down, slings his legs onto the bed, pulls you just a littleeeee closer

- an arm of his slung behind your back, your tits pressed against his side (he's already spiralling from the contact) maybe a leg of yours over both of his

- he pretends like he's trapped but he's actually enjoying this

- you're sooooo hot both literally and figuratively in his eyes

- no he doesn't see the way you kept sniffling, barely able to breath with your nose half blocked, greasy hair sticking to your skin and making you all in all, disgusting looking

- he doesn't see all that, he can only see the pretty blush dusting your cheeks, the way you kept panting hotly for more air and how you're looking at him with your eyes that are clearly in a daze, sparkling with tears

- oh my god you look soooo cute

- but oh no...something's rising....

- he swears he tried to move away

- he swears he tried to move YOU away

- but being the cuddlebug you are, you whine and latched onto him even more

- determined to not let him escape, what do you do?

- of course, trap him by climbing on top of him, using all your strength to move and "crush" him under your weight

- (he knows he can lift you off easily - you're weakened and you're not at all heavy to him)

- but he doesn't do that cuz he's already melting from both your cuteness and well, heat

- is it clear the main topic here is about the heat

- yeah he didn't even try, he keeps you there

- even secures you in place with his hands holding the back of your thighs, moving you just a teensy bit closer so he can...you know, feel your breath on his neck and your softness on his hardness

- i'm sorry that was bad

- he doesn't want to take advantage of you

- he never would unless you've talked abt it with him before this

- but he's soooo curious if you're just as hot internally as you are externally

- he swears he'll just feel you up a little, his fingers finding their way to slip into your panties...

- he presses on your clit, rubs circles over it and is surprised by how quicker you got wet

- he gulps, deciding to gather the hot liquid along your folds

- the sweet surprised sound you made almost had him stopping

- but you were silent after

- so he thinks you're okay with it

- (you really are but you were too sick and tired to properly register what was happening)

- slips his fingers inside you only to pull them out immediately

- GODDAMN YOU WERE BURNING

- he brings his hand up to look at the juices sticking to his fingers, can't help but taste it a little

- warm, sweet

- he's already loving it too much to stop right now...oh no...

- slips his fingers inside you again, moves them for a few minutes just to get you started

- eventually pulls them out to replace em with his dick

- tries not to move you around too much cuz he knows you're probably knocked out, trying to rest

- dunno if you're getting much rest with what he's about to do tho lol

- pushes inside you slowly, geeeeently

- can't risk breaking something already so fragile

- and the moment he's inside you fully he can't help but let out a string of curses, his own cheeks heating up

- WAAAAAAY TOOO HOOOOTTTTT

- has to hold onto you, arms tightly wrapped around your back as he adjusts to how tight and warm and good it all feeeeels

- doesn't move for like 5 minutes, even debated on just letting you cockwarm him like this but then he realizes he doesn't want you waking up to him inside you

- so he moves slow, dragging his thrusts just to experience the burning sensation a lot more clearer and longer

- he's panting and trying to keep it silent

- and it doesn't take long for him to cum

- he pulls out just seconds before he cums, stroking his reddened cock frantically before he loses the lingering warmth from you

- hot spunk spurts high, staining the surfaces it lands on (mainly on your back)

- he bites back a curse, shoving his dick back into his pants while he tries to clean you up

- after like 10 minutes and making sure you were knocked out cold, he removes you from him

- finds some proper clothes for you and helps you wear them

- leaves like nothing happened

- when he's in his room, he's crashing the fuck out... i'll let you imagine how that goes, but just know he's probably berating himself over it

- (he's replaying the whole thing in his mind endlessly)

- secretly hopes he'll be able to do more than just a quick fuck the next time

- and maybe next time you'll be awake and take the lead

- oh no, he's already bricked up again 🫡

[blackcat-star]

Sinful.

Mafia!Jinwoo x Fem!Reader.

Warning: NSFW, smut, R18, 18+. Think carefully before reading.

_____________

In a room shrouded in darkness, two figures entangled on the bed. The sound of labored breathing, the wet heat of passionate kisses, and the echo of skin on skin echoed. The air became stifling, like the embrace of summer in June, though it was in the chill of winter's domination.

Clothes were scattered in disarray, some torn as if they had been ripped apart. The room reeked of sweat and sex.

The tall man pressed down on the woman, burying his face in the curve of her neck. His movements underneath were fierce, flowing with swift abandon, a stark contrast to the gentle kisses and gentle caresses over the soft contours of her body.

Jinwoo panted, his breaths heavy and hot against your neck. His eyes were closed tightly, while he moaned something deep in his throat. Immediately, with great haste, he pressed his lips to your soft flesh, the skin flushed with desire. His lips passionately glided over your figure, leaving behind brilliant purple and crimson marks.

But contrary to the fierceness of his actions, Jinwoo's mind was struggling.

He shouldn't do this.

He really shouldn't do this.

But this feeling is fucking amazing. He could not resist the seductive sweetness of this temptation. This may sound funny, because he, a notorious mafia boss, a man who has seen many intrigues, who has seen wealth and debauchery in the dark side of the world, should really have hardened his emotions and nothing could tempt him from now on.

Yet he, at this moment, found himself unable to resist the allure of a beautiful young woman. You were not even of noble birth, nor did you hold great power, she was just an ordinary soul, living the simplest life, untouched by the dark aspects of existence.

In Jinwoo's eyes, you were an innocent creature, a spirit radiant with light, wearing a radiant smile. To Jinwoo, you were the embodiment of enlightenment, the reflection of all the beauty and virtue in this world. A creature like you should not find yourself entangled in the cruel and bloody struggles of the dark underworld, nor be tainted by lust and carnal desires. Indeed, you should not have any relationship with him.

What the hell is he doing?

He defiled you.

He tainted his angel.

Those thoughts and torment made his thrusts gradually slow down, the hands that were holding the woman's hips also loosened. He breathed heavily.

Soon, he became aware of the disgruntled murmurs coming from below him. You were squirming, your legs wrapped around his waist, tightening your grip. "Ha...What's bothering you...?" You were pouting. "Why are you slowing down... Please, don't... it's uncomfortable... So heated..."

You speak in the most confused language, your cheeks are flushed with crimson, whether from vigorous exertion or from an aphrodisiac. You are trapped by an aphrodisiac, and thus find yourself in this quagmire. The fault lies with him, for he thought he had given you the safest fortress, but his enemy, with his cunning, has scented your presence and slipped through the cracks of your protection.

It was his carelessness. They knew his weakness was you.

Jinwoo raised his head to look at you, his mysterious ash-gray eyes locked with yours, filled with mixed emotions.

You smiled, pressing your hot body against his. "Hmm...Why...are you looking at me...like that?". You were losing your mind right now, he wondered how you would feel tomorrow when you woke up and remembered everything. Hurt, angry, devastated? He didn't know. He was afraid you would leave him.

That's tomorrow's story, but right now you have absolutely no idea about his mental struggles.

You smiled innocently, your eyes sparkling with mist, your breath warm like embers, your lips burning. You leaned forward, your arms wrapped around Jinwoo's neck, pulling him into a passionate, chaotic kiss. The kiss was clumsy, teeth biting into lips until they bled, but neither of you pulled away. The fire that emanated from you burned him, pricked and burned his very being.

Jinwoo's eyes were bloodshot, tinged with lust. The last vestiges of his sanity were shattered. The arsonist was still chuckling, showering his face with passionate affection. Jinwoo let out a feral growl deep within, and leaned forward to sink his fangs into your neck. His hand glided over the gentle curves, and there it rested on the soft breast, caressing with tenderness. His fingers gently slid over your hard, crimson bud, pinching it lightly, making you shiver with enthusiasm. A sharp moan escaped your lips, as you arched inward, your hand grabbing his wrist, but it was quickly grabbed and held high.

Jinwoo gave you a reverent kiss on your left chest, a gentle kiss on your heart, silently uttering an eternal vow. He will take responsibility for his actions today. From today on, you will become his woman, Sung Jinwoo's treasure. He will not let today's mistake happen again, he will do his best to protect you, cherish you in his arms.

With such thoughts, Jinwoo lowered his hands, gripping your thighs and pulling them apart, thrusting hard into your wet depths, making you let out a passionate moan.

As your mind becomes hazy, you become incredibly easygoing, as if content with anything. Your hips rise, your back arches, and you match the rhythm he weaves gracefully. You let yourself go, feeling the length of his hard cock penetrate your body as if it penetrates your soul, sinking into the wild sounds, then hastily pulling him into the ecstasy. Your pleasure quickly turns into lewd moans and drops of water flowing from your petals. The sound of flesh meeting flesh becomes increasingly sensual, creating a most shameful echo.

Everything seemed to stab straight into Jinwoo's heart, but it stirred up the passion hidden within. He let out a soft laugh, like the growl of a beast, completely succumbing to the charm beneath him. A little carelessness caused his heart to fall into your hands, allowing you to grasp his throat.

The climax was near, his movements becoming more and more frantic and rough, while your moans rose in resounding fervor. Your form trembled the most, as he realized that your threshold was also approaching.

And when the time comes, he shoves his cock deep inside you, and you let out a loud wail. Everything fades to white. Both of your minds go blank, leaving only physical satisfaction and pleasure.

Your form was limp, sweat pouring down like a stream. Jinwoo had bent down before your chest, the chest heaving with your breath, he had bitten it fiercely and held it between his teeth, wishing to bestow a sweet memory on your flesh. This mark would follow you for a while, marking you as his, his alone.

Tomorrow, Jinwoo will searche everywhere, hunting down those who dared to plot against you. He must ensure that those treacherous people disappear into thin air and never cause you harm again.

For now, he need to take care of his cherished one.