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PARAMOUR ⋆✦⋆ hoshina soshiro

synopsis ➸ hoshina is used to getting strange messages as a well-known member of the defense force, but a sexy photo from a random number really catches him off guard. what starts as something casual soon becomes an obsession

tags ➸ strangers to lovers, male mastúrbation, semi-public sèx, dirty talking, bíting, rough séx, manhandling, fingêring, sqùirting, cunnìlingus, overstimúlation, unprotected sèx, multiple orgàsms, spánking, anàl fingèring, hair pulling, slight asphýxiation

wc ➸ 9.1k

The deafening silence of the empty office pressed in on Soshiro from all sides like a smothering weight. He let out an audible groan, dropping his forehead into his upturned palm as boredom gnawed at his already frayed nerves.

Seriously, what fresh hell was this endless stack of paperwork even for?

He eyed the precarious towers of manila folders and disheveled reports littering his desk - each one housing enough dull legalese and procedural jumbo to induce the kind of brain-melting boredom even seasoned bureaucrats would balk at. Fuck, at this point he'd almost welcome a random kaiju attack in the middle of downtown just for the sheer distraction.

At least kicking some oversized lizard's ass would briefly scratch that primal itch simmering beneath his skin - the one begging for furious physicality, adrenaline, and the raw thrill of combat after weeks trapped behind this goddamn desk.

A humorless chuckle rumbled up from Soshiro's broad chest at the mere thought. Yeah, because getting flattened into a fine red mist by a rampaging leviathan's club-sized fists was definitely preferable to revisiting the third subsection of this month's payroll audit one more...fucking...time...

He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged both calloused palms down his stubble-lined jawline, barely restraining the urge to howl out his rising frustrations to the empty room. This shit was supposed to be a means to an end - a temporary detour strengthening his administrative credentials. Not some sadistic exercise in lobotomizing his last shreds of patience and morale with each passing hour.

Just as the thought crossed his mind to start browsing apartment listings for some remote mountain monastery, a sudden shrill beep sliced through the stifling silence like a thunderclap.

Soshiro jolted ramrod straight in his creaky desk chair, hand instinctively whipping out to snatch up his vibrating cellphone with the honed reflexes of a lifelong combatant. Eyes narrowed and hyper-focused, he scanned the bright display with a mixture of apprehension and deeply buried need for some, any external stimuli to crack this stagnant purgatory wide open.

12:37 AM...

So much for that hoped-for kaiju attack interruption. It seemed a mundane text notification would have to scratch that itch for now, no matter how minuscule. He swiped his thumb across the illuminated screen to reveal the sender—and felt his brows knitting together in a bemused frown.

Unknown Number?

Well, that was...unusual, to say the least. The mysterious digits blinked up at him innocently from the display, unlisted sender with zero context beyond those stark alphanumerics. No name, no identifying icon or thumbnail - absolutely no context whatsoever to indicate whether this could be a legitimate communique from JAKDF command or, at worst...spam?

Despite himself, Soshiro's curiosity spiked as he stared down the glowing text preview like a viper coiled to strike. With little else capturing his rapt attention at present, solving the mystery of this bizarre late-night message had suddenly become priority numero uno.

Besides, you never knew - maybe the universe was feeling generous and decided to toss him an intriguing lure during this agonizing dry spell after all? A tempting breadcrumb leading somewhere far more tantalizing than dredging through paperwork until his mind liquefied completely?

Curiosity rapidly snowballing into outright temptation, Soshiro swiped open the strange notification before rational thought could intervene. He barely registered the loading symbol flickering across the display precursor before—

"What the everloving fuck..."

The sibilant curse punched through his parted lips of its own accord as his vision abruptly swam with eddies of smooth, unmarred skin. Shapely feminine curves blurred together in tantalizing motion across the small screen - a tangled vista of exposed backs and sensual valleys utterly devoid of context beyond sheer gratuitous indecency.

That is, until Soshiro's stare honed in on the breathtaking centerpiece with visceral intensity and everything fell into deliriously filthy place.

There, brazenly showcased against the dimness of some half-glimpsed bedroom backdrop, the gloriously unobstructed view of a stranger's pert little ass packed into lacy crimson lingerie flooded his senses with molten lust. His mouth went instantly dry as the tantalizing hint of a matching negligee top riding up hinted at the feminine bounty lying just out of eyeshot overhead.

It wasn't just some indiscriminate thirst trap or porno clip blasted to his device...no, this was clearly a meticulously framed personal photo angled with lush, sensual deliberation for maximum impact. Soshiro found his hungry gaze skating down the indecent thigh gap and sleek inward curves with unstoppable greed despite himself.

Just as he gulped down a fresh inhale to reestablish equilibrium, the glowing words accompanying the scandalous photo finally swam back into focus at last.

Wait! Oh god, I'm so so so sorry! I didn't mean to send that to this number, please delete right aw—

Soshiro couldn't bite back his derisive snort quickly enough, already envisioning the startled panic blossoming on his mystery admirer's flushed features. How precious...his angelic little minx was simply begging for forgiveness after doling out such glorious sin completely unbidden, wasn't she?

Well, far be it for him to disappoint such a winsome supplicant desperate for penance. With a few deft taps, he fired off a response dripping with his signature insouciance and devil-may-care mirth. Can't rattle the cage too harshly too soon, after all...not when such interesting prey was already slipping into his web of its own delicious volition.

You know, most girls avoid sending nudes to randoms like the plague. I'd hate to think my night's entertainment was a total accident...

Send. Soshiro leaned back in his squeaky desk chair with a lewd grin painted across his rugged mug, shamelessly giving the scandalous photo one more unhurried perusal in all its provocative glory before clicking the save button.

His appreciation of feminine beauty aside, a delicious new game had fallen into Soshiro's lap - one he had no intention of dismissing so easily, not when the howling boredom had left him starved for stimulation. With a low hum of simmering relish, he swirled the scotch beside his overflowing inbox patiently, waiting to see how this encounter would unfurl.

The reply pinged through quicker than expected, those same mystery digits blinking across his lockscreen accompanied by a fresh message preview:

Well if you insist on holding me hostage... maybe return the favor so we're not total strangers? ;)

Soshiro couldn't quite suppress the rakish grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he swiped the notification open. So his coy little minx was feeling emboldened after the impromptu nude's unintended delivery, was she? Doubling down on baiting him into an equal display rather than beating a hasty retreat with her tail between her legs?

He had to give the girl credit - she definitely had a spark of audacity burning beneath all that stammered apology. A fact that only served to stoke the rising flames of Soshiro's prurient interest more intensely. After all, what was life without chasing down the occasional daring conquest to really get one's blood pumping hot and hard?

Rather than firing off a response, Soshiro leaned back in his desk chair and allowed his burning gaze to slowly wander back up toward the scandalous photo still illuminating his device's display. That flawless expanse of soft skin sculpted over those delicious feminine curves...the lush crimson lace cupping such an exquisite ass it practically deserved to be bronzed...god, he could perfectly picture palming every lush inch while grinding his throbbing—

A tiny grunt of arousal nearly punched free before he could bite the sound down. Soshiro shifted subtly, suddenly and keenly aware of the uncomfortable tightness rapidly straining against the front of his trousers with every heated exhalation.

Fucking hell...just the sight of this random thirst trap was already fully capable of reducing him to white-knuckled want like some overeager virgin again? What strange power did his mysterious online woman wield to already have him half-delirious without even so much as a face or name to attach those stunning assets to?

Still, even as his smirk deepened with rueful self-awareness, Soshiro found himself cradling his swiftly swelling cock through the fabric with his free palm. He shamelessly drank in the image anew, allowing the full effect of such raw, lush indecency to blossom in heated flushes across his skin.

Just watching that tempting bounce of ass cradled in those clinging crimson ribbons was enough to make pre-cum drool from his straining tip already. To reduce the normally unshakable monster hunter to such a pathetic, needy state pulsing with single-minded longing.

And wasn't that just the bitter irony of it all? After countless brushes with the most catastrophic behemoths to ever tread this earth, finally some faceless online tart had him untethered and howling for relief like a bitch in heat...all because she'd slipped him a tantalizing peek at her sweet little body wrapped up in silk and sin with no thought beyond teasing him mindless, surely.

Well...two could play at that particular game of torment, couldn't they? Because Soshiro wasn't one to leave any challenge unanswered once the gauntlet of temptation was thrown...no matter how salacious the battlefield.

With a few decisive swipes of his thumb, he typed out a reply already dripping with dark promise:

Careful now...you don't want to go whetting a strange man's appetite without being fully prepared for the consequences, little one. Why don't you keep those pretty pics coming and we'll see if you're entertaining enough to earn your peek later...?

Soshiro could only imagine the scandalized shiver rippling down his anonymous admirer's spine at his blatant disregard for propriety. Could picture the hunger dawning behind those wide, naive eyes as she realized this hunt had found its predator ready to prowl regardless of innocence or intent.

Grinning like the wolf he was, Soshiro fired off the challenge before sliding his free hand down to fully unfasten his belt buckle. The telltale hiss of leather parting and metal clanking punctuated the sudden silence like a thunderclap. He didn't even try to stifle the groan of relief surging through him as he popped his swollen cock free of its confines.

God, the mere anticipation of watching his little mystery slut send even more scandalous pictures had him painfully rigid...aching with the sheer need to thrust into something warm and wet and tight. Something that would milk his heavy cock for all it was worth until he exploded into ecstatic release and stained that perfect skin with his filthy, sticky claim.

Shameless, depraved fantasies aside, Soshiro knew it was far more satisfying to draw this little game out with slow, calculated precision. To make his unknown admirer dance in just the right way before offering the ultimate reward of a face and name to put behind those tempting curves and sinful lingerie.

Besides, a little patience would make the eventual payoff all the more savory, wouldn't it?

The rhythmic tapping of Soshiro's pen ricocheted off the office walls with maddening consistency once more, each percussive beat drilling deeper into his skull. He squinted down at the seemingly endless cascade of forms and files proliferating across his desk in fresh waves - the mere sight enough to rekindle that special breed of existential torture reserved solely for bureaucratic busywork.

At least this time around, a delicious new distraction kindled in the back of his mind like the cherry-red ember of a cigarette glowing defiant in the gloom.

His mystery online admirer had fallen conspicuously silent since their heated exchange the previous evening. No response to his boldly suggestive demand for further entertainment, no follow-up photos teasing the identity behind that world-class ass shot seared into the backs of his eyelids whenever they drifted shut.

Still, the blessed anticipation of further correspondence made each in terminable hour hunched over these godforsaken requisitions just a little more bearable. The potential for some wicked mischief to unravel amidst the tedium sat there like a baited hook, only needing to be set and reeled with the right provocation...

A wry grin tugged at the corner of Soshiro's mouth as the notion solidified. Why not test those tantalizing waters and see if his conquest could be lured out from whatever shadows she currently stalked? Give the poor girl's nerves one more tweak to see if sparks flew in either direction again?

With a few deft strides across his cramped office quarters, Soshiro freed his cellphone from where it rested on the windowsill and thumbed open the strangers' thread without preamble. The suggestive photo she'd teased him with the night before winked up at him from the display impishly, daring him to indulge in another lascivious perusal and rekindle those delicious embers of want.

Smirking despite himself, Soshiro wasted no time in firing off a barb of his own in retaliation:

You know, a guy could start feeling insecure when his favorite anonymous admirer deprives him of their...artistic talents for so long at a time. Figured you just got cold feet about properly entertaining me again later tonight?

He punctuated the deliberate provocation with a few choice emojis - tongue poked out in saucy challenge beside the peach icon for good measure. Let the girl chew on the not-so-subtle reminders of what scorching delights awaited should she decide to keep pushing those buttons purposefully.

The response was nearly instantaneous, buzzing through with a lively ding that kickstarted Soshiro's pulse instantly:

Lol yeah right you wish! For all I know you're just some wrinkly old perv fapping to me behind that screen...what makes you think you've earned another show after that?

He barked out an audible laugh at the saucy rejoinder, already eagerly firing back another round:

Guilty as charged on that second part, although I can promise my appreciation for the female form hasn't dulled with age one bit. As for earning my keep though...? That's exactly why I keep asking nicely for you to come up with some better reference material, babe. Gotta be prepared in case you live up to my wildest hopes after all...

The banter flowed like a raging current between them after that, punctuated by lulls where Soshiro could practically envision his mysterious chat partner stewing in feverish consternation over what salacious retort to fling back into the fray next. All the while, his eyes kept skating back to that tantalizing photo as if magnetized - drinking in the sumptuous lines and valleys with helpless relish as his neglected cock rapidly swelled.

Before his mind could fully register the passage of time, Soshiro's wristwatch began chirping out the late hour. Startled, he glanced at the device in shock - only to find nearly an entire evening had fled by in the blink of an eye while their flirtatious volleys dragged him deeper and deeper into temptation's swirling vortex.

Around him, stacks of overlooked paperwork blanketed every conceivable surface like the fallout of some administrative apocalypse. The forgotten chaos was a stark reminder of just how thoroughly this torrid game of tease and chase had eclipsed every other distraction vying for his attention mere hours ago.

Yet despite the damning wake of unfinished busywork surrounding him, Soshiro couldn't quite muster the appropriate shame or regret over being so thoroughly derailed yet again. Not when the hunger gnawing at the pit of his belly felt so sweetly sated for once - if only by the mere prospect of his sultry correspondent finally revealing her true tantalizing colors in the flesh rather than suggestive neon...

He sank back against the desk's unforgiving edge with a ragged sigh, absently palming the impressive swell tenting his pants shamelessly. There'd be no blissfully obliterating climax to cap off the evening's indecencies tonight, he acknowledged - not without a few more chess moves needing to play out first amid this deliciously charged stalemate.

But the sweet anticipation of that final reckoning, of bending this faceless siren to his whims and uncovering whether she was truly worth his deepening ardor? Why, that singular promise alone would sustain Soshiro through a thousand more agonizing, soul-sucking paper prisons if required.

After all, he wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears ingenue to be so easily caught up in a few torrid heat waves and saucy nothings fired across the digital ether. No, he was a creature of focus and discipline honed to an unyielding edge through endless trials of mind and body alike.

So the mere fact that this mysterious hedonist had already captivated his attentions so thoroughly was worth every second of unbearable restraint flexed...for now. Until the dam inevitably cracked and every unspoken longing could be drowned out in the rapturous floodwaters they'd summoned together with each lurid photo and breathy promise whispered out across the glowing night.

The digital flashing of the bedside clock seared 3:17 AM into Soshiro's bleary vision as he blinked himself awake yet again. A ragged sigh rattled up from his chest while he scrubbed both palms over his stubbly jawline in aggravation.

Another goddamn sleepless night starring down the barrel of his cellphone like an addict seeking that next hit of delirious, addictive sin...

Except his particular vice took the form of whispered indecencies typed out in rapidfire beside the tantalizing bounce of a strangers' ass packed into skimpy red lace. The image alone was practically tattooed behind his eyelids at this point despite the weeks having slipped by since its fateful arrival.

With a low growl, Soshiro rolled over onto his side and thumbed open his phone's lockscreen to reveal that familiar thread glowing from the display. Sure enough, those same mystery digits blinked up at him innocently amid the suggestive emoji exchanges and playful taunts that had rapidly become his sole beacon during the tedium of long, empty nights.

A tendril of frustrated heat coiled low in his abdomen as he gave the photo one more relentless perusal from top to bottom. How many more agonizing nocturnal hours had slipped by with his calloused palm chafing over his aching cock to this lone cherished trophy while sweating through fevered fantasies about getting his mouth all over those tantalizing curves in the flesh?

Too damn many to tally, that was for certain. And all without a single new breadcrumb to stoke these relentless hungers further beyond her unashamed goading and the occasional saucy comeback fired off across the digital divide.

A sudden volley of renewed buzzing from the device clutched in his free hand made Soshiro's eyes blow wide with a startling clarity. There it was again - the telltale signal of his elusive siren resurfacing to tease and taunt in equal measure no matter the hour.

He didn't bother checking the incoming missive at first, content to simply drag the moment out as long as humanly possible. To savor the frissons of electric expectation crackling over every hypersensitive nerve ending while his thumb hovered over the notification icon.

Whatever delirious promises or filthy demands awaited this time, Soshiro would commit each syllable to memory like divine scripture before inevitably spiraling further down the lust-maddened rabbit hole keeping his addict's hungers in perpetual torment...

My my, somebody's grinding that axe pretty hard again this evening, aren't they? Just couldn't resist seeing if I'm still in heat for you...?

There it was - that same impertinent lilt wrapped around every irreverent turn of phrase that made Soshiro's spent cock twitch with renewed interest. He pictured her pretty lips curved around those brazen taunts with dark amusement, lush and kiss-swollen from his attentions while coy innocence swam in her siren's stare despite the increasingly indecent game taking shape.

I figured you'd lost my number by now, baby. A girl could start getting insecure if her biggest fan went totally dark for days like this...

He fired back the retort immediately, eager to goad her into leaning into the charged heat steadily building between their forms once more across the miles. Wasn't often he encountered somebody so thoroughly game to trade blistering salvos without breaking stride.

On the contrary, gorgeous...felt like giving you breathing room before my thirst started feeling too heavy to bear. Figured you could use a break from me obsessing over that sweet little peach in your last shot.

Thankfully, her saucy reply was instantaneous - complete with a choice peach emoji of her own that made Soshiro's cock pulse between his thighs eagerly.

Awww, how considerate of you handsome! But you must know by now there's no such thing as 'too thirsty' for this lil peach when it's earned the privilege ;) I'd say we're WELL past due for you to sample the fruit while it's still ripe for the picking...

Soshiro swallowed hard, already picturing the scene with visceral intensity - him pinning that perfect, shapely ass down onto his tongue to suck and lave worship into every lush crease and sinful fold while she came undone above him. So lost to rapture that those taunting words melted into litanies of shattered prayer under his relentless tongue...

A sharp trill from the distress alarm made him startle abruptly from the spiraling fantasy, blistering promises already curling across his frayed psyche like lush vines. With an indelible groan of deepest resignation, Soshiro dragged himself upright and off the mattress to retrieve the summons that could only mean one inevitability.

Duty calls...again. Of-fucking-course it did.

The acrid stench of smoke and residual chemicals clung to Soshiro's sweat-damp form like a noxious shroud as he stalked away from the smoldering wreckage. Shrugging out of his suit's top layer, he gulped down deep, ravenous lungfuls of the cool night air in a vain bid to flush the bitter aftertaste of industrialized ruin from his mouth.

Mission success, at least on their end - the kaiju contained and any trapped civilians successfully evacuated before shit hit the fan. Soshiro chanced a glance over his shoulder at the ravaged factory and the kaiju carcass being meticulously cordoned off and documented by the cleaners. Just another harrowing Monday night at the defense force, really.

God, he couldn't wait to scrub the stench from his pores and collapse into some semblance of a recharge before inevitably being summoned topside again. Maybe he'd even get to avoid any further bullshit detours lobbed his way for once tonight...

"Hoshina!"

The sharp bark of his captain's voice sliced across the makeshift staging area, shattering that naive respite before it could fully take root. With a resigned sigh, Soshiro turned to find Mina waving him over from where she conferred with the medic lieutenant. Of course...he really should've known better, shouldn't he?

"Got a final errand for you before you check out," Ashiro rasped out without preamble as soon as he drew within earshot. "Low priority, but Arashi could use an extra hand to see one of the evacuees squared safely away. Downtown address, probably nothing more than a five-minute shuttle."

She passed him a folded slip of paper that Soshiro took automatically, already anticipating a protest bubbling up from his wearied bones. Only the full weight of Ashiro's expectant look gave him pause - because damned if the woman didn't have a preternatural way of dismantling his gruff impulses to reckless defiance before they could even unfurl fully.

Still...a damn glorified taxi service tonight of all nights? When they'd just survived another raging monster while scores of their boys risked permanent lung damage in the chemical factory? Soshiro felt the muscle in his jaw tighten imperceptibly as reason warred with the ingrained soldier's discipline inculcated over decades in the field.

Ashiro seemed to read his burgeoning objection plain as day across his set features. Before he could voice it brazenly, she stepped closer and pinned him with a pointed look from beneath her disheveled bangs.

"Look, I get it - this detour seems small after the clusterfuck you just hauled us through," she murmured, just loud enough for his ears alone. The candid solidarity laced around her normally brusque tone gave Soshiro pause once more.

"But this particular civilian..." Ashiro paused before continuing more quietly, regret pulling at the creases around her mouth. "Let's just say they've had about as shit luck as any of us trudging through that hazardous waste tonight. A bit of consideration beyond our call of duty ain't exactly gonna kill you, now is it?"

Soshiro stared back evenly for a long moment, unsure of how to parse the vague implication underscoring her simple request yet unable to dismiss it cavalierly all the same. At length, he broke eye contact with a curt nod and made to turn on his heel.

"Should've known you'd never steer me wrong, captain..." he rasped, already orienting toward the nearby transport vehicle that would complete his obligation. "I'll see our stray home safe and be back before morning briefs start...long as they don't decide to make themselves too difficult."

For some reason, a faint smile seemed to tug at the corners of Ashiro's expression at that proclamation. But all she offered was a brisk "good to know" before dismissing him to his task without further elucidation.

Not that Soshiro wasted too many brain cells lingering on her cryptic reassurances anyway. No, with the prospect of a solid night's rest twinkling before him like a shining beacon, his churning thoughts had already veered toward more...salacious distractions lying in wait.

Specifically the luscious little siren who'd been haunting his restless nights with a relentless drip-feed of illicit photos and ever more suggestive taunts volleyed across the digital ether at all hours. His fiery temptress who remained utterly shrouded in mystery beyond the tantalizing hints of feminine curves spilling over from lingerie or the occasional flashes of soft skin, tormenting him with what he still couldn't claim despite months of breathless pining.

But soon...oh so very soon if the unspoken promise lingered in her most recent teasing salvo. Soshiro refused to believe that their game of increasingly sinful escalation could continue on indefinitely, not with the way her messages had taken on an insistent urgency as if stoking the smolder of each imminent collision.

The real question was, would Soshiro expend his considerable resolve to ignore her unanswered provocation until they next crossed orbits? Or would he break down first to text her some lewd goad, unable to stand being rendered even temporarily adrift of her siren's attentions for another night longer?

He'd just settled into the grimy shuttle's cab, already reaching for his cellphone tucked in his pants pocket when his eyes flickered over the expectant figure seated across from him amid the vehicle's gloom. Soshiro felt his formerly resolute focus rupture completely as all context scattered from his muddled psyche at the sight of the woman staring straight back at him with undisguised pique.

You...

He knew those pouty, lush lips immediately despite the shadows obscuring most of your figure - the same pillowed contours that had starred across countless lurid photos fired off without context nor identity attached. The exact sumptuous mouth that promised to lave unrestrained worship across his cock in delirious soliloquies whenever he tormented himself with those forbidden snapshots late into the night...

As if magnetized, Soshiro's unblinking crimson stare roamed over the rest of your features in a slow, scorching perusal. That flawless visage and familiar cheekbones so tantalizingly obscured across his grainy camera roll now sprang into sublime clarity before him. And those molten eyes, blazing with unabashed annoyance and challenge in equal measure from beneath thick sooty lashes...

It couldn't be, and yet the impossible truth slammed into Soshiro with the force of a physical blow, stealing his labored breaths despite himself. Because somehow...some way...his indecently worshipped digital goddess had manifested into the flesh right before his stunned senses.

A shrill chirp from his jacket shattered the weighted trance, alerting him to another text undoubtedly languishing from his torrid muse amidst the darkness. Yet there was no need to check the sender ident now - not when Soshiro had finally placed the alluring pieces into their deliriously complete puzzle at last.

Your head swiveled sharply at the sudden vibration, irises flaring wide before locking onto his transfixed stare with that same razor edge he'd hungrily committed to fantasy. The undisguised surprise mingling with the annoyance etched across your striking features made Soshiro's mouth go instantly dry.

"Well?" you huffed out that smoky alto woven of sin and temptation itself, upper lip curling into a petulant sneer as he drank you in helplessly. "Are you just gonna sit there staring at me like a creep all night? Or do you plan on telling me why in the hell I'm being detained after getting checked over for—"

Soshiro couldn't bite back the low, rasping chuckle that punched free from his broad chest before you could finish your indignant diatribe. He watched in mounting delight as confusion and shock rippled over your stunning visage in turn, replacing the fiery censure with naked befuddlement.

Rather than giving voice to the thousand fevered thoughts whirling through his muddled consciousness, Soshiro allowed his eyes to drift down your seated form deliberately. To roam over the sumptuous curves cradled by those snug little skirt and lush thighs splayed carelessly before him with open greed.

And there, positioned at the perfect vantage point to torment and tempt from the shadows, winked that unmistakably familiar glint of rose-gold metal clinging to the subtle flare of your hip. He locked on the stylishly sleek phone case with ravenous intensity, as if mesmerized by the scant glimpses of lingerie-clad flesh all over again for the first time.

Only now, the reality of his indecent muse's identity grounded the feverish imaginings into sublime truth made manifest before him. That sinful soliloquy would drip straight from your plush lips with tangible smokiness rather than mere pixels spun into fantasy across dimly lit screens...

You bristled as that low, heady laugh swelled anew in response to his ravenous assessment. Every line of your body tightened, drawing his eye inexorably from the elegant column of your throat down to the gentle swell of cleavage unintentionally accentuated beneath thin cotton.

"Okay buddy, I'm not sure what your deal is here," you snapped, crossing your arms defensively over your chest in a subconscious flare of modesty. "But if you don't knock off the creeper staring contest in about three seconds, I'll—"

But Soshiro cut off your indignant threat with a few precise strides forward into the shuttles cramped interior. Your eyes blew comically wide as he loomed into your space without ceremony or preamble, forcing you to crane your neck back to meet his piercing ruby regard from beneath shuttered lashes.

"Careful now, sweet cheeks," he rumbled, pitching his voice into that liquid velvet rasp that made you visibly shudder despite yourself. "Can't go making threats like that against the Vice Commander of one of the city's finest frontline combat division, now can you?"

He watched your throat work convulsively on a sharp inhalation, entire body tensed as every muscle hummed with sudden hyper-awareness. Yet rather than retreating or shrinking beneath his implacable proximity, you seemed to draw every ounce of sultry defiance forward in one single glare of molten incredulity.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you rasped out in naked disbelief. "There's no way you're—"

"Hoshina Soshiro, in the scorching flesh after being subjected to your torments day in and out," he crooned, deliberately pitching each word into the lower registers that stroked over your hypersensitive nerve endings. "Although I have to say...not a single nude or vulgar emoji barrage could ever hope to capture how utterly exquisite you are up close like this, gorgeous."

At last, blessed recognition dawned behind your widening eyes alongside the flickering embers of unmistakable heat. Soshiro watched with relish as your spine straightened from its defensive hunch, shoulders squaring instinctively as you studied him with ravenous consideration anew.

"Then I have to say, you put those brooding hero shots all over the news to absolute shame, stud..." you murmured with a subtle shift closer to his looming silhouette that drew a predatory growl from somewhere deep in Soshiro's chest.

He responded by closing the remaining distance until your parted thighs cradled his muscular bulk with barely a sliver of space for propriety between. Threading one meaty palm into the lustrous tresses cascading down your back, Soshiro tilted your head until your gazes locked and mingled harsh breaths in the electric divide.

"Well then," he husked against the velvet pout of your lips with molten promise flowing from his tongue at last. "Now that the masks have fallen completely...how about we get this firestorm started properly for once, kitten?"

You swayed into his hulking frame with infinite grace, nose brushing his in a deliberate tease that made his engorged cock throb between clenched thighs. Yet rather than finally bridging that last electrified inch, you simply cracked one corner of your mouth higher in a smile sharp enough to sunder atoms.

"Mmm...thought you'd never ask," you purred, smoky voice caressing over Soshiro's nerves like a physical brand.

Unable to resist claiming a taste after so many agonizing nights spent fantasizing, he surged forward to seal his mouth over yours in a searing glide. You moaned shamelessly into the velvet heat of his insistent tongue delving between your parted lips to plunder and map every slick crevice with greedy fervor.

"Fuck..." Soshiro groaned without breaking the filthy glide of your mingled breaths. "Taste even sweeter than I imagined, baby girl."

He punctuated the growled praise by dragging you forward with the hand fisted in your silken hair. Your plush chest crushed against the sleek bulwark of his torso as your throats undulated in shared rapture, allowing zero space for propriety to linger between your rapidly aligning forms.

"Easy there..." you managed to pant out against the scorching brand of his mouth, all honeyed sin. "We've still got a few things to sort out before the real fun even starts..."

Soshiro snarled wordlessly in response, free hand snapping out to cinch around the lush flare of your hip and grind your molten cores together mercilessly. The delirious friction of your bodies sliding in sinful tandem made you both keen out twin whimpers of blissful torment.

Rather than relent beneath the bruising onslaught of Soshiro's feverish demands, you allowed one elegant fingernail to trail from the nape of his neck all the way down the bulwark of carved granite at his nape. Every flex and shiver of tensed muscle rippling beneath your teasing caress drew a fresh hiss through his gritted teeth.

"Like...how does a sweet little tease like me end up on your very important list for playing naughty delivery girl, hmm?" you purred against the heated line of his stubbled jaw, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek deliciously. "Last I checked, my selfie skills didn't quite qualify as acts of civic duty, handsome..."

Soshiro allowed himself to be tugged into the sensual sway of your taunting seduction, relishing how every sultry note bleeding from those honeyed lips seemed to vibrate straight through to his throbbing length grinding against your soaked heat at last. When your mouth skated over his in a ghosting brush, teeth raking his bottom lip in passing, his ragged groan punched up from somewhere primordial stirring awake in his abdomen at last.

"Your guess is as good as mine, gorgeous," he husked against the sinful pout you presented like forbidden fruit begging to be devoured. "Although if you really think I'm gonna waste the first taste of this sweet pussy on dull conversation..."

He emphasized the vow by slamming his hips up against yours in a visceral grind, fitting the swollen ridge of his cock directly between your molten folds with devastating friction. You jolted against him with a shattered whimper, head lolling back in unmistakable ecstasy as every lush curve undulated with rising fever.

"Then you've got another thing coming, don't you kitten?" Soshiro growled with merciless intent, already shucking his jacket down over his forearms to free up hands dedicated solely to mapping out all your most scorching hollows in graphic worship.

Before you could peel back another insolent retort, he sealed his mouth over the frantic thrum of your pulse and sank his teeth into the soft skin of your neck in a vicious bite. The sound that ripped from your chest could only be described as a keening howl, torn free as if by force and ringing throughout the small space.

Soshiro's answering snarl of savage victory was muffled against your neck as his fingers clawed into the plush flesh of your thighs and forced them wide in one brutal shove. In response, you simply curled your calves around the hard slab of his lower back, anchoring him into place with no room to spare between your joined bodies.

"Fucking hell, baby girl..." he ground out through clenched teeth as you rocked and writhed against his grinding cock, seeking friction like a mindless creature. "If this is your way of trying to get me fired...it's fucking working."

"Not...trying anything..." you managed to gasp out in broken fragments, eyes rolling back in their sockets with every roll of his hips grinding his bulging arousal directly over the soaking fabric of your panties. "Just...fuck...wanted...to give my hero a proper thank you for—"

"By teasing the ever loving shit outta me all these weeks?" Soshiro bit off with another punishing rock of his hips that punched a breathless cry from your chest. "I'd call this a downright hostile fucking reception, princess. So tell me...how do you plan on making it up to me?"

As he spoke, one hand slid around the curve of your hip and dove beneath the elastic of your panties to stroke the molten slit of your folds directly. Your choked off moan echoed through the small space, accompanied by a fresh flood of molten arousal drenching the pad of his index finger and the sensitive flesh around it.

"Holy fuck...soaked to the goddamn bone already," he snarled with vicious approval, allowing his fingertips to glide across your engorged clit before dipping just a fraction inside the clutching entrance to your molten channel. "This tight little cunt has been waiting for my fat cock from the start, hasn't it, baby? Just like the rest of you..."

The next ragged sound that punched from your chest could only be a whimpering sob of affirmation as he sank one digit to the knuckle, stretching the tight band of muscles clenching around him desperately. His answering snarl was a feral, animalistic sound - more beast than man as he began to fingerfuck you with a punishing rhythm that sent your bodycareening forward.

"I asked you a fucking question, kitten," he growled into the sweaty column of your neck, relishing the frantic thrash of your body as he crooked his finger inside you and scissored against the molten walls. "And you better have the right answer ready by the time I get my tongue in this pretty little pussy, or else..."

You keened at the filth pouring from his lips and the wicked curl of his finger against that spot deep inside you, writhing and undulating into his touch in a sublime dance. Soshiro allowed his free palm to snap up and cinch around the fragile bones of your throat, exerting the barest hint of pressure against the thrumming artery as his mouth hovered mere inches above yours.

"Or else what?" you dared to rasp, lips brushing his with a teasing nip. "Gonna spank me like a naughty schoolgirl, Vice Commander?"

Soshiro responded by adding a second finger to the first, wedging his way inside your tight heat with a guttural groan and a fresh rush of sticky arousal. Your choked off cry rang through the shuttle car and beyond as his thumb slammed down on your engorged clit and pinched in a rolling, ruthless grind.

"Not today, baby girl," he husked with savage relish, watching in rapt delight as the molten heat pooling between your legs began to coat his wrist with every pistoning pump. "Today, I'm just going to make you cum so many times you're damn near passing out from it. Because the second you're done squirting all over my fingers and face like a filthy little whore, I'm gonna fuck you stupid."

Your eyes blew wide at the crass threat, pupils dilating so fully that only a thin rim of iris remained. You whimpered brokenly against his lips, hips rolling with wanton abandon as his fingers plunged into your soaked pussy again and again.

"That's it, sweetheart..." he rumbled, free hand winding into your silken locks and yanking back until your gaze met his in the dim lighting. "Fucking cream all over my fingers so I can taste your sweet cunt just the way I've been dreaming about for weeks now."

As if triggered by his command, your entire body jolted and quivered in his arms, arching off the seat in a violent shudder as a deluge of fresh arousal coated his fingers and palm. Your inner walls clamped down on his digits like a vice, milking his knuckles as a flood of clear fluid gushed down his wrist and soaked the seat below.

The keening cry that ripped from your chest was utterly debauched, and Soshiro drank it in with unhinged fervor as he rode out your orgasm with relentless fingers. Without wasting a moment, he withdrew his hand and hauled you up until his massive bulk sprawled across the bench.

When you could finally see through the dizzying haze of aftershocks, Soshiro held up the two fingers still dripping with the evidence of your arousal, smearing them obscenely across his tongue. He let loose a primal, guttural growl at the flavor, and then his mouth was on yours again.

The kiss was all raw, feral hunger - teeth clashing and tongues dueling as his hands shoved beneath the hem of your shirt to palm your breasts. You arched into his touch as if electrified, and then his mouth was tearing away to suck the pebbled peak of your nipple directly through the damp cotton.

"You've got ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn't toss you onto the floor and fuck you stupid, baby," Soshiro snarled against the lush curve of your breast, nipping and suckling until you were keening and bucking up into his hungry maw.

"Because...oh god..." you panted, fingers digging into his shoulders with bruising force. "Because y-you promised to eat me out first…"

Soshiro reared up at that, the molten embers in his ruby eyes igniting into a full blaze. Without ceremony, his hands hooked beneath your ass and dragged you forward until your knees draped over his shoulders. "So I did, baby..." he growled, mouth poised directly over the sodden fabric of your panties.

With no further preamble, his teeth sank into the soaked lace and yanked with brutal strength. He tossed the torn fabric aside without a glance, too enraptured by the slick, puffy lips of your glistening sex mere inches from his face.

"Fuck me…" he groaned, fingers clamping down on the ample globes of your ass and yanking your dripping pussy up to meet his parted lips. His tongue swept through the silken folds in a single, broad swipe that made your hips jerk and grind against his face with wanton desperation. Soshiro chuckled against the molten heat, dark and feral, before sealing his lips around the engorged bud of your clit and sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh fuck...fuck fuck fuck..." you chanted like a mantra, spine arching and undulating like a livewire as the wet, filthy suction of his mouth pulled a fresh surge of arousal straight from the molten depths of your cunt. Soshiro growled with ravenous approval, lapping at the nectar that poured out in a sticky stream with every roll of your hips against his lips.

He could feel the tight coil of your impending climax, the desperate clench and flutter of your soaked channel around nothing. Unable to resist, Soshiro's tongue plunged inside your molten entrance with single-minded focus, fucking you open as his nose bumped your swollen clit in a punishing grind.

"So good...so fucking good...oh my god, keep going," you gasped out in a torrent of words and moans, the filthy squelch of his tongue pistoning inside your soaked channel the only thing louder than the roaring thunder in your ears.

When his mouth latched onto the swollen bud of your clit again and sucked until his cheeks hollowed, you came with an unearthly scream that would have been heard throughout the entire complex if not for the loud thrum of the shuttle car and the heavy thump of rain against the roof.

Soshiro allowed himself to be ridden through the storm as you bucked and writhed against his tongue, his throat and jaw working to drink up the endless stream of clear fluid that coated his face and chin in a sheen. It took several long moments for the wild jerks and twitches to abate, and by the time they did, Soshiro felt certain you'd been completely emptied out.

"That was two, princess..." he growled, dragging your limp form upright until his mouth could reach yours again. You whimpered softly as his tongue surged inside, tasting yourself on his lips and the slick, velvety glide of his tongue.

"Such a good girl..." he murmured, allowing the pad of his thumb to drag down your jaw and trace the plush contours of your mouth. "So sweet and delicious. You gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt now?"

You nodded frantically, reaching down with shaking hands to claw the waistband of his slacks. With a low rumble, he lifted his hips and allowed you to shuck the offending fabric down his muscular thighs. When you finally managed to wrestle the thick length of his cock free, he hissed in a breath through clenched teeth as the air rushed across the exposed glans.

"F-fuck..." you whispered, eyes blown wide and unseeing as your palm slid down the velvet steel and gave an experimental stroke. Soshiro's only response was a guttural snarl, one hand clamping down on the base of his shaft as if to stave off his own imminent release. Just the sight of your soft hand gliding over his engorged cock, smearing his leaking precum over the pulsing head, was nearly enough to make him blow his load.

"Don't you dare, baby," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I'm not fucking coming anywhere except inside this sweet little cunt. Now turn around and stick that ass in the air for me."

A fresh rush of arousal coated your molten folds at the crass demand, and you complied without hesitation. Soshiro watched in rapt hunger as you scrambled off his lap and turned, bracing your forearms against the bench and presenting the flushed swell of your ass directly before his gaze.

"Good girl," he growled, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver of anticipation straight up your spine. His palms dragged up the supple curves of your hips, thumbs digging into the dimples at the base of your spine. He allowed his aching shaft to slide up and down the slick valley between your legs, gathering up the moisture that leaked from your slit to glide over the pulsing head.

"You have any idea how many times I've jerked off to this ass?" Soshiro husked, eyes riveted on the hypnotic sway of the round globes as he rolled his hips and ground his cock against the puffy lips. "Every night for the past three weeks, princess. This perfect, juicy ass has been starring in my wet dreams since the moment I saw it in those naughty, little panties."

You whimpered and rocked back against him, the swollen folds parting to accommodate the pulsing length grinding against them. Soshiro hissed in a breath as the fat tip caught on the clenching entrance and sank inside with an agonizing thrust.

"God, baby girl...your little pussy's sucking me in like a fucking dream," he snarled, fingers biting into the flesh of your hips as he forced himself to still inside the clenching grip of your cunt. You were so impossibly tight, and with the barest trickle of slick easing his way, Soshiro could have sworn he was about to die and ascend to the heavens right there.

"Please, Soshiro...need you to fuck me," you gasped, head lolling forward until your forehead hit the backrest. The angle of his thrust had the fat head grinding directly into the sensitive spot just inside your fluttering entrance, and the pressure was already driving you mad.

Soshiro obliged without another word, one hand fisting in your hair and the other digging into the soft flesh of your hip. He withdrew with agonizing slowness, hissing as the clinging walls of your cunt fought to suck him back in. Once he was nearly free, only the bulbous crown lodged inside the molten clutch, Soshiro slammed forward with a punishing thrust that had you screaming and jerking beneath him.

"Fucking shit, baby," he gasped, fingers scrabbling for purchase on your hips as you arched back into his every thrust, desperate for more. The sight of his massive, veiny cock splitting open the puffy folds of your pussy was almost enough to send him careening over the edge.

Soshiro allowed himself to bottom out a few times, sinking in to the root and grinding his hips into the soft cushion of your ass. On the third pump, he withdrew completely and slammed inside, reveling in the breathless cry that fell from your lips as his balls slapped against your clit.

"That's it, baby girl," he panted, leaning back and spreading his thighs to allow you to grind back into his punishing rhythm. "Fuck yourself on this cock...goddamn, your cunt is so fucking tight and wet. I'm not gonna last, princess."

You could only respond with a choked whimper, fingers clawing into the upholstery as the thick, blunt head of his cock slammed against your cervix. You nearly passed out when you felt something prod at the puckered rim of your ass, and then Soshiro's thumb was sinking inside to the knuckle.

"That's my girl," he crooned, twisting the digit and hooking the pad against the fluttering wall of muscle. The rest of his fingers were splayed out across the supple curves of your ass, spreading you wide open and allowing him a view of his cock sinking into your clutching pussy. He could see the way your juices clung to his shaft as it pumped inside you, the frothy ring of white forming at the base of his cock with every thrust.

"Soshiro...Soshiro, I'm going to—"

"Cum on this cock, princess," he snarled, his thumb popping free of your ass and his other hand slapping down across the plush flesh. Your shriek rang out through the shuttle car, bouncing off the walls as your inner muscles clenched down on the pistoning shaft.

The molten heat that pooled in the cradle of your hips boiled over and erupted, a geyser of clear, creamy fluid gushing down the insides of your thighs and soaking the bench below. Your vision whited out as you were sent hurtling over the edge, body jerking and undulating with every punishing pump of Soshiro's hips.

"God damn, baby...gonna make me cum," Soshiro choked out, his fingers clawing into your hips and lifting you off the seat with a single-minded determination. Your entire body was limp and lax, held up only by the vice grip of his hands and the relentless slam of his cock.

Your inner muscles were clenching in a desperate bid to milk him dry, and Soshiro couldn't have stopped his release even if he tried. With a savage snarl, he yanked you back against his cock, grinding his hips against your ass until his balls were flush with the sticky lips of your pussy.

His cock twitched and throbbed, a veritable flood of his seed erupting inside your soaked cunt. You moaned as his spend gushed and splattered against the delicate walls, and Soshiro's hips jerked with every new pulse that left his cock.

The sweaty aftermath found you both tangled together in a delicious heap against the narrow bench, chests heaving with satiated pants. Soshiro's large palm traced idle patterns along the slick planes of your back, raising goosebumps wherever his calloused fingers grazed.

Finally breaking the blissful quiet, he rumbled out a low chuckle against the nape of your neck. "Well...can't say I ever expected an escort mission to go quite like this."

You hummed languidly, leaning back against his sculpted chest with a contented smile. "Oh? And here I thought you Defense Force types thrived on beating expectations."

His laugh was rich and deep, vibrating against where you lay draped over him shamelessly. "Only when the surprises are as delightfully mind-blowing as you, gorgeous."

Craning your neck, you met Soshiro's molten gaze - admiring his dark, tousled hair and the way his toned torso glistened with a sheen of exertion. You couldn't resist leaning up to trail a series of teasing, openmouthed kisses along the sharp cut of his jawline.

"Speaking of surprises..." you murmured between kitten licks and nips. "Care to elaborate on how exactly we ended up...undressed and tangled back here, Vice Captain?"

Soshiro groaned at the provocative path your lips blazed, large hand coming up to fist in your hair and angle you closer for a deep, indulgent kiss. When you parted, he was gazing at you with a heavy-lidded smolder akin to a predator satisfied after devouring its prey.

"Seems there was one kinky little minx I just couldn't keep my hands off any longer," he growled, giving your lower lip a teasing nip. "Not after spending all those weeks talking dirty back and forth."

You shivered at the reminder of how this heated tryst had kicked off between the two of you - graphic messages and enticing photos swapped in the dead of night before you even knew his face.

"Something tells me you aren't exactly complaining though," you purred back, rolling your hips in a slow grind that made you both gasp.

His pewter stare darkened with renewed hunger, free hand spanning the generous curve of your ass to grind you more insistently against his growing cock. "Not one damn bit, baby girl. But how about I take you out for a real date this time before we get too carried away again?"

You blinked at him in surprise before the words clicked into place, followed swiftly by a surge of warmth and feminine satisfaction spreading through your chest. Here was the notorious Vice Captain, all rakish charisma and endless skill in the bedroom from what you'd just experienced...and he wanted to actually court you outside the sheets, too.

Allowing your most tantalizing smile to curve your lips, you ducked in for one more smoldering, openmouthed kiss that left you both dazed and flushed. "I'd like that, Soshiro," you breathed against the damp heat of his swollen lips. "But for now...how about we take care of the issue that's just started poking into my stomach again?"

#kaiju 8 x reader smut #kaiju 8 smut #kaiju 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader smut #hoshina smut #hoshina x reader smut #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro smut #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader smut #soshiro smut #soshiro x reader

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katebishopsbaefy · 22 hours

Text

Shoot Me

billie eilish x reader

𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: you and billie both get your periods at the same time and are the definition of miserable

word count: 1219

You roll over with a groan, pressing your face back into your girlfriend’s side, clutching your stomach. You feel her arms wrap around you. She obviously wanted to feel you as much as you wanted to feel her.

You and Billie had been unfortunate enough to get your periods at the same time, so now here you lay, sprawled on your bed, clutching your stomachs, groaning occasionally. Somehow you’d managed to not only lose track of your heating pads, but you’d also completely run out of pain relief medication, and neither of you felt well enough to drive to the store to get some.

Billie gently kisses your forehead when you press into her. She grunts as she reaches one arm over to the nightstand to check her phone, muttering out a low “shit” upon seeing the many texts and missed calls from her brother, who she was supposed to meet up with today.

You rub your eye and look up at her. “What’s wrong?” you mumble.

She swings her arm back over to hug you tighter, deciding to deal with Finneas later. “Nothing,” she whispers, starting to rub your back. You hum at the touch. “How’re you feeling?”

You grumble out something about feeling like shit, but it comes out muffled due to your face pressing further into her. Your hand finds its way underneath her loose t-shirt in search of more comfort.

This time, she hums at your touch. The weight of you laying on top of her serves as a weighted blanket, and although it’s comfortable, it doesn’t do much for her cramps. “This sucks,” she states. You hum in agreement.

Your short conversation is interrupted by multiple aggressive dings from her phone. She groans again and reaches back over, checking the new texts from her brother.

“Who’s that?” you ask.

She lets out a huff. “Finneas,” she mumbles, “I forgot I was s’pposed to meet up with him today.”

You whine and grip her tighter in response. “Mmm, don’t leave me.”

“I don’t think I could go anywhere even if I wanted to,” she says, giggling quietly at you.

She hadn’t realized that she forgot to respond to him yet again, getting distracted by you, until the sudden alarm of her ringtone and buzzing of her phone forces her to finally respond. You both jump at the sound before she answers. You can hear a faint “hello???” from the other end.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you,” Billie says, exhaustion lacing her voice. “I’ve been asleep all day, me and y/n have the worst cramps ever.” She shifts a little and waits for Finneas to respond. “Actually yeah, that would be super helpful if you have time.” Another pause. “Can I send you a list?” Short pause. “Okay, great, see you later.”

The loss of her warmth makes you groan as she flips you off of her to sit up. “What’d he say?” you ask.

“He said he has some time, so he’s gonna pick some stuff up for us,” she responds. Taking your shared blanket with her, she gets out of bed. You groan for probably the 500th time, but she ignores you and grabs your arm, effectively dragging you out of bed too. “Come on, we’re gonna go sit on the couch.”

“Just shoot me instead,” you mumble. You clutch your pillow to your stomach and trudge your way down the hall with her to the living room.

She laughs at your remark. “At least we get more time to hang out,” she says, gently bumping her hip with yours. You smile at her and bump her back.

It feels like an hour has passed by the time you make it to the couch. You flop down, immediately leaning into Billie’s side, and you feel her do the same. She sits up for a moment to wrap you in the blanket again before snuggling back into you. “Wanna watch something?” she asks, to which you shrug, and she flicks on a random channel.

You completely lose track of time sitting with her. You have no idea what show’s playing, being too distracted by her hands, which you had taken into your lap. Fingers laced together, palms pressed, her warm hands warming up your cold ones. You’re so spaced out playing with her fingers that you don’t realize you’re starting to fall asleep until she giggles at you.

“Sleepy?” she asks. You look up at her, noticing her eyes starting to droop as well.

“No,” you whisper, reaching a hand up point at her jokingly, “are you?” She shakes her head.

At some point, you had both begun to shift around, so uncomfortable from your cramps. When Finneas arrives at your place, he finds you passed out, sprawled on one side of the couch, gripping your pillow. Billie hogs the blanket on the other side, and your heads meet in the corner. He smiles and snaps a quick picture to send to you later.

He quietly makes his way over to your kitchen, careful not to make too much noise with his bags. Ice cream, chocolate, and other comfort foods are unloaded into the fridge. Despite how quiet he tries to be, the soft rustling is enough to wake Billie, who quickly sits up and pads over to him, dragging her blanket behind her. “Hey, you don’t have to do that,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Go sit back down.”

“But I feel bad,” she mutters. She plops down onto a seat at the kitchen island, resting her head on her arms.

Finneas slides her a container of pain medication over the table, which she gratefully accepts, downing a couple of pills. “If you wanna do something…” he says, rifling through the bags, “go pop these in the microwave for a minute.” He pulls out two stuffed animals, unzipping them from the back to take out the pad to be heated up. Billie audibly sighs at the sight.

“Oh my God, you’re literally a life saver,” she breathes. After heating them up, she makes her way back over to the couch, where you’re still sound asleep.

“Y/n,” she whispers, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at her. “Hi, my love. I’ll trade you,” she says, referring to the pillow you’re still clutching. You gratefully switch with her, pulling the stuffed toy to your stomach and letting out a breath at the relief it provided. “Better?” she asks, kissing your forehead softly as your eyes close again.

You hum. “Thank you,” you say to her, and, louder this time, “thanks, Finneas.”

He and Billie talk for a little longer, deciding to make up the work they were supposed to do another day, and she thanks him excessively, to which he shrugs every time. Then he leaves, leaving the two of you alone again.

As she sits back down, she pulls your head into her lap. Her hand in your hair, yours on her back underneath her shirt. A few short minutes later, your fingers stop tracing patterns into her skin, and she knows you’d fallen back to sleep. She scoots around, getting more comfortable before falling asleep too.

No matter how shitty you felt, she always made you feel better.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader

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writeriguess · 1 day

Note

Hi, could you do bakugou x reader (couple) where he forgets the reader's birthday? For work reasons I request that it be fluff ;3. ty.

It had been a long day, and you found yourself lounging on the couch, staring at the phone screen. The notification center remained painfully silent—no texts, no missed calls, nothing. Today was supposed to be special. Today was your birthday, and yet… nothing.

Your chest ached with a familiar, bitter feeling. Katsuki had been swamped with hero work lately. You understood—he was always busy saving lives, training, and striving to be the best. But you couldn't help the little sting of disappointment as the hours passed without a single word from him.

"Maybe he's planning something," you whispered to yourself, hugging a pillow close to your chest. Yet, deep down, you weren’t so sure.

The sun was already beginning to set when you heard the front door creak open. Bakugou entered, his usual scowl in place, his hair messy from the long day. He kicked off his boots and slung his hero jacket over a nearby chair.

"Hey," you greeted, voice quieter than usual.

He grunted in response, walking over to grab a glass of water. You watched him closely, waiting—hoping—for some sign that he remembered. But he just stood there, chugging the water, then rubbing the back of his neck like nothing was out of the ordinary.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

"You okay?" he finally asked, noticing the way you were staring at him.

You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Liar," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

You bit your lip, unsure if you should bring it up. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, but the disappointment was hard to shake. Finally, you sighed, setting the pillow aside.

"It's my birthday today, Katsuki."

His reaction was immediate—he froze, the glass in his hand clattering down onto the counter, spilling some water. His crimson eyes widened in shock, a look so rare on him that it would’ve been funny under different circumstances.

"Shit," he whispered, and the way his voice dropped sent a pang through your heart. "I… I forgot."

You nodded slightly, trying to shrug it off. "It's fine. I know you've been busy."

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He cursed under his breath again, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. "No, it’s not fine. I—damn it—I can’t believe I forgot."

His fists clenched at his sides, eyes filled with regret. "I’m sorry, okay? I’m… I’m an idiot."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. Bakugou wasn’t one to apologize easily. He was too proud, too stubborn. But there he was, standing in front of you, looking guilty, looking like he genuinely wanted to make things right.

Before you could respond, he crossed the room in three large strides and pulled you into his arms. The sudden warmth of his embrace made you melt, all the frustration you had felt dissolving at the way he held you close.

"I’ll make it up to you," he mumbled into your hair, his grip tightening. "I swear."

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. "You don’t have to, Katsuki. I get it. You’re busy, and—"

"Shut up," he interrupted, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was intense but soft, the way only Bakugou could be. "I’m making it up to you."

You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. "Fine. What do you have in mind, then?"

He grinned, that familiar cocky smirk that always made your heart skip a beat. "You’ll see. Just… give me a second."

With that, Bakugou moved quickly, grabbing his phone and disappearing into the bedroom. You heard him muttering on a call, probably making some last-minute arrangements. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself. Typical Katsuki—stubborn, but always determined to do things his way.

Less than an hour later, Bakugou reemerged, this time looking much more composed. He had changed into something more casual, and in his hands were two takeout bags—your favorite food, from your favorite restaurant.

"I know it’s not fancy or anything," he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "But I thought we could just… stay in, eat, and I dunno, maybe watch some stupid movie together."

You stared at him, your heart swelling at the effort he was making. "Katsuki… this is perfect."

He scoffed, cheeks tinged with pink. "Damn right it is."

You spent the evening eating, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. And when the night grew late, Katsuki pulled you into his lap on the couch, holding you tightly as you watched the movie. His hand absentmindedly ran through your hair, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

"I really am sorry," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I know," you whispered, smiling softly. "But you made up for it."

He chuckled, low and warm, before tightening his arms around you. "Damn right I did."

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

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starry-fame · 2 days

Text

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

#love and deepspace #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #gender neutral reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader

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nmbrtobio · 3 days

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sunaxreader

fluff, angst.

********•********•*********•*********•**********

you’re staring at him.

he’s across the cafeteria laughing with his friends being happy like nothing had happened ever since you guys broke up a two months ago.

you can’t get over him. you can’t get over this brown hair, his eyes, the hoodie he’s wearing right now. the one that he gave you. he’s not wearing the necklace you gave him a year ago on his birthday, he’s probably wearing some other chain around his neck.

you wish he texted you. you wished that he’ll make eye contact with you right now.

sometimes you swear you feel his eyes on you but when you try to meet his, his back is facing towards you.

the boy you loved, and that you think loved you, is acting like nothing happened.

“y/n cmon we gotta get to class!” your friend yelled at you, and you nodded not looking away from suna. as you stand up and look up at him one more time you guys make eye contact.

one second. two seconds. three seconds. four-

your friend yanked you away and atsumu got in sunas way. you felt a pain in your chest. and hate, because that’s the first time he’s looked at you since these past two months.

———————————————————————

you went to a club with your four friends, all dressed in pretty skin tight dresses, and all dolled up. you’re wearing the black dress suna loved on you. you didn’t do it on purpose, your friends picked it out for you.

tonight you just wanna drink though and feel something, anything. maybe cause of the alcohol stored here, or for the cute looking guys around here. maybe someone.

you’re currently now on the bathroom counter kissing… what was his name again? you weren’t sure, but you weren’t turned on by this, or weren’t interested, and didn’t feel anything. he’s kissing down your neck and he made it down to your collarbone, before you made an excuse to walk away, “hey we should do this another time you know? my friends are looking for me it’s an emergency.” he looked bummed out but he let you go.

you went to the bar, and had a drink after drink, and now on the dance floor with your girls, laughing and having fun. you’re head is pounding a bit but it’s no big deal, you’re still having fun. but now you have to go to the bathroom and throw up.

“hey i’ll be right back.”

your speed walking to the bathroom now, and suna just keeps popping back up in your head. when you guys would go to parties together and dance with him and the others, or you’ll be dancing and he’ll make sure no one will come your way. or like when you drank to much he’ll hold your hair when you threw up.

it’s all coming out of you as your leaned over the toilet, throwing it all up. and now your crying, because you missed suna and he acted like everything was fine today, because he’s not here to hold your hand, or watch you as you dance, and maybe because he’s not here as your date, and not the guy you make out with in the bathroom.

your balling your eyes out, and there’s snot coming out your nose. your mascara is running down and your wiping your tears that’s repeatedly going down.

and all of a sudden your phone is in your hands, and you click on sunas contact.

ring…

ri-

there’s silence.

“hello?” you sniffle and start sobbing harder, cause you missed his voice so much.

sniff, “hi rin.” it just comes out so naturally.

“you know rin, i’m at a club, and i really miss you- likeim crying- i’m crying next to a toilet, because i miss you isn’t that funny?” your words are a little slurred. “rin i miss you. i fucking haye you i don’t get it why-why did you have to leave me. i could hate you but i can’t i can’t hate you, why do you act like nothing happened to us like we were never deeply in love.”

suna on the other line is still quiet.

“you know- i miss you, i miss us. please suna i can’t do this without you suna.”

“i love you y/n.” now your crying even more and suna hears you throwing up in the back, crying again right after, “where are you baby?” he says as you hear his car keys and the sound of his front door closing.

“you still have my location.” you say as you begin wiping the tears again. “suna don’t leave me please i’m not ready. you’re still always in my mind.”

“are you in love with anyone else? cause i’m not in love with anyone else, and what’s so fucking crazy is that it’s always been you.” your words are getting more slurred and your getting tired. “i’m almost there, can you walk out to the front for me? or do you need help?”

you slowly start getting up still having tears rolling down, and say yes. you walk out of the stalls with your heels in your hands and head outside, and you sit on the steps waiting for suna. he’s speaking to you but you fell asleep as soon as you sat down and leaned against the wall.

Sunas pov

Suna reached the club and saw you lying against the wall sitting on the steps. he hangs up the phone and rushes out of the car. he missed you so much.

he walked over to your sleepy body and woke you up, “cmon just walk to the car for me. i’ll hold you up.” you slowly opened your eyes and saw suna, “hi my love” saying in a whisper. and then your crying, again. he smiles and helps you up to walk towards his car, “please don’t leave me again, i’ll be lonely.”

as much as he doesn’t want to, he has to. it hurts his heart so much, that when he’s looking at you you’re never looking back at him, how he misses your hair, your eyes, your voice. he’ll say everything he wants to tonight, because he knows you’ll forget it the next morning. “i wish i could bring you everywhere with me y/n, and i wish you could love yourself the way i do. maybe once we both learn to put away our pride and learn how to communicate, i’ll run back to you. i always will.”

“to answer your question from earlier, no. i haven’t loved someone else because i still look for you through a crowd of hundreds of people. sometimes i still even check if you come to my volleyball games, even when you are there, i think your there for me and not for sakusa.”

he puts you in the passenger seat, and drives you home.

you forget everything the next morning, and suna told sakusa what happened. what you think happened last night is that you drank too much and you called sakusa to come get you.

.•.•.•.•…•.•.•..••..•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•..•.•.•.•.•••…

i did not go over this, so there may be some spelling mistakes and bad grammar. should i make a part two?

-nmbrtobio

#suna angst #suna fluff #haikyuu #suna x reader #suna rintarou

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lailawinchesterr · 2 days

Text

remedy (vii) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: somethings just aren't meant to be, and you can't force them— tags: underage!reader, 22-year-old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, angst, 6k chapter (yeah, it needs a warning), daddy issues I think.

You don’t text back for two days, and he ignores you. All of a sudden, it’s ‘we need to talk’. No way, man; an idiot can see this is a breakup text if they look at it for a second too long. And you’re not stupid enough to end something that means this much to you over the phone.

If he decides you’re boring, or you’re not it, or whatever, he can say it to your face—

Your phone is ringing.

Worst case scenario, he calls you names, best case, he says it’s not you; it’s him. Maybe switch them around?

Maybe you should change your number.

Maybe you should answer. You answer. “Sam, hey.”

“Hey, you okay? Were you asleep?” Maybe if you say yes, he’ll feel stupid breaking up with you while you are half asleep.

“No.” You’ve never been good at lying to him. “Do you need anything?”

“Sweetheart, what’s with the silent treatment?” oh, great, now he wants to talk about it? It’s been two days, he didn’t bother then— God, what is happening to you! You’re acting like such a bitch, right now, like all the times you’ve yelled at your friends to stop being so annoying with their boyfriends, and now you’re doing the same.

“Sorry, uh— yeah, no, I guess I was just being silly because you didn’t call when you said you would.” Your voice is so timid, you wouldn’t believe it if someone said it was you. Sam has responsibilities, such as finding his dad and taking care of Dean, and you are being petty. Fuck this whole thing, this isn't you, why are you suddenly changing around him (without him here).

“It's not silly. I just had something to take care of that night and forgot to tell you.”

“Why'd you pretend? Why not just tell me the next day?”

“I thought you forgot, I didn't wanna remind you; besides, it was one call, I didn't think you’d care.” Where in your exterior of panic did he get ‘wouldn't care’ from? Unlike Sam's tendency to just ooze nonchalance, always seeming uniquely unbothered by this entire thing, he wasn't like this when he was next to you, in fact, he used to care more about your feelings than you did.

Is this what distance is doing to the both of you? Ruining Sam's gentleness and consideration? The things you liked about him from the start? Love about him? God, it's like your parents all over again. You love your father, of course you do, he’s an incredible dad, but he was disappointing as a husband, and you fucking swore that you’d never marry someone like him, even if you’re as physically far away from marriage as possible with Sam, it doesn't mean you’re wrong for thinking of your future with him.

“Baby?”

“Right. Sorry. It isn't a problem, you're right.” You never were as strong as your mother.

“Okay, but I'll text you next time. Promise.” You nod, noticing your nose burning and your vision getting blurry for a second before you breathe. This is not worth crying over. You've always given your entire being into every relationship and lost yourself halfway through, you told Jess that this was different, that Sam was different. But Sam is just like every guy you've ever liked, he's normal, caring, and sure, a little different in the sense that he's not a dick to other people and doesn't curse at you because of how you feel– okay so he's very different, but you aren't. You’re trying so hard to hold yourself back from thinking of those three words, from being all in for once, but you can’t help it, and you’re fucking mad at Jess for being right. Sam lost you. He went to a different state and is staying there for weeks, and it's okay with him. It should be the same way it should be for you, but it isn't. It was never going to be.

Your feelings were never going to be like his, and deep down, you knew that, Jess knew that. And you let it happen.

Fuck you’re crying. Fuck he’s calling out your name. “Sam, I'll call you back, okay?” And you hang up to his protests.

He didn’t cause this, you did by being so fucking careless with the most crucial thing in your life– your heart. And men will always be men. They'll forget to call, or they'll move to another country or state for work, they'll have girl friends that they hang around, and you will never be able to deal with it.

It's terrifying to think about because you spent your senior year of high school making damn sure something like this would never happen, you didn't breathe near a boy, and you worked your ass off both in school and out of it to have achievements you can add to your transcript. Your first two years in Stanford have been spent right here in your apartment (or the first one was in the dorm), away from anyone who could ruin your progress– then Jess introduced you to him, and so what? She's introduced you to anyone she's ever hung out with. But you knew Sam was different. You knew everything about him was different the second you were both in the car alone, and you let all your nerves go so that you could sit in the passenger's seat and talk to him.

That should've been enough to scare you the hell off. He’s older and more experienced, and you promised you wouldn’t do this– you threw it all out the window the second he asked for your number.

He’s calling, your phone's ringing, and you know it's unfair to him, God, you know it is, but how unfair is it to whatever’s left of you if you answer?

After an extensive crying session, you pick yourself off your bed and get on the desk for some serious study time. All your best studying has been done with your eyes bloodshot red and your heart broken. It doesn't take a few hours to finish and revise your assignments, and then you make flashcards for the chapter you (daydreamed during) missed last week. It's the most productive you've been this year. You're not complaining— until you are because Jess is barging through the door, and she doesn't yell, ‘honey, I'm home’, which can only mean she spoke to Sam. She knocks on your door twice before slamming it open with a frown.

“No, because what the actual fuck do you mean you're not answering any of our calls?” Oh, she's worried. You shrug, pointing to the phone that you shut off and abandoned on your bed a few feet away. “How many times have I told you to stop shutting your phone off if you're not going to keep your laptop open? What if your parents call and you don't answer? They can't exactly just knock on your door.”

“I texted them before I shut it off.” She lets out an exasperated breath, walking over to you.

“What about me? Why didn't you text me?”

“I forgot, Jess, I'm sorry, it's no big—” Before you can even finish your sentence, you're hit with an insane case of deja vu, except it's more like your brain stops working. You genuinely did forget. It wasn't like you'd hurt your best friend on purpose, but she doesn't look like she forgives you or, quite frankly, even cares. And you're repeating his words right back at her.

“No big deal? Seriously, what has gotten into you? First, you don't listen to me about Sam– you actually fight me about it, then you ruin it! Sam is racking his brain thinking of what he did wrong, and all he came up with is that he forgot to call once. Tell me you are not being bitch to Sam because he goddman forgot!”

You're not surprised by Jess saying it any more than you were scared when you did. You already knew it was irrational; you're overreacting and rounding up all the bad things happening since you've known him to justify it. But you're not stupid, you know Sam doesn't deserve it, you just– honestly, you didn't think he'd call Jess or care that much.

“I'll call and apologize—”

“No, God, no, this isn't what this is about,” she sighs, her voice quieter and pensive as she sits on your bed. You turn the chair around to face her. “Babe, talk to me. What is going on with you?”

“You were right.” You can't cry again, and you're not in front of Jess about something you're ruining yourself. “It's too much, I just can't do it, Jess. You were right—”

“Come on, babe, no, you fought for him, you convinced me he's right for you, what is this about?”

“I just can't be okay with it, every time something happens, I just— I'm scared it'll all go to shit, so I can't focus on anything, but the second I closed my phone after I hung up on him, I felt like— it was closure. I'm not scared anymore. I can focus and see everything clearly when I'm not…”

“When you're not in love with him.” You don't meet her eyes, instead, they pan to the floor. Yeah. You were scared to say it, but Jess certainly isn't. She won't shy away from the truth for your benefit; maybe that’s why talking things out with her always works for you.

“Jess, you were so right, and I'm sorry I didn't—”

“Hey, don't be stupid, no. I didn't mean it— I never wanted you to do this. Sam is good for you, and you are great for him. Me and Gen, we talk about the two of you all the damn time and how incredible Sam treats you, how thankful and accommodating you are to him. I didn't know that that's what you were thinking.”

“I fell in love with him in a month. I can't, I just can't be like this again. I can't keep doing this and–” Yeah, you can feel your tears deep in your chest, and it doesn't matter what Jess hears or sees, you just can't keep going like this, “— I keep losing myself, and I accommodate to him and I want to please him and I shut up when I'm sad because what if he doesn't want to hear it—”

“You know he–”

“I don't care! I don't care how good of a person he is, unless he pulls it out of me, I don't… God, I'm so high maintenance, and he's too comfortin– Jess, I'm done. I can't keep…” She frowns, and you notice her red cheeks as she opens her arms for you. You oblige, moving off your chair and next to her on the bed, your head on her chest while her arms wrap around you. It never hurts less, and the fact it never fucking might scares you more than you thought was possible.

You both fall asleep like that on your bed, your head on her chest and her embrace warming you, it makes you curse yourself for waking up at three. You were in a deep sleep, too. Thankfully, she still is, so you grab your phone and head out of your room, turning off the lights behind you to– oh fucking SHIT.

“Sam!” You scream, a hand on your racing chest. You're already wincing at the thought of waking Jess up, but you don't hear anything except a change of rhythm in her snores. You’re panting as you take a step back from him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We finished early,” He lies, his eyes on yours. He’s a good liar, you have to admit, even if you can see right through it. He takes a step closer, examines you, and places his hands on your shoulders as he does before pulling you in close. “God, I’ve missed you.”

That's— what on earth is happening right now? “Were you crying?” He furrows his eyebrows, fingers wiping under your eyes even though your tears dried hours ago.

“Yeah, but that— Sam, what are you doing here?” You repeat, still starstruck. You like surprises when you know they’re coming. Like not knowing where you're going for dinner or not knowing what type of party someone is planning for your birthday, but this? It's very not cool. Extremely terrifying.

“I just told you we finished the case early.”

“You— what about your dad?”

“Dad left us a clue, well, he left Dean something. We went to find him in Blackwater Ridge, and he left something for Dean there about where to find him next. It's a couple of states over, and when I saw that this isn't a two-week kind of thing, I told Dean to bring me back here.”

“Sam it's been five days—”

“I know. I know, but you— trust, right? Technically, I made it back before the end of the week, so even that promise I kept…” and it's a weak attempt to lighten the situation with his hands still lighting your body on fire. You're not angry with Sam, of course you aren't, you never expected that you'd be with him every second of every day, you even knew that in less than a month you'd have to go back home for the summer vacation— it was never Sam's fault to begin with. It's yours. Your heart, your stupid, childish feelings, because despite being emotionally intelligent like almost everyone you've ever known has told you, and a damn hard worker to get into med school a year early, your feelings are where you draw the line.

“Honey, were you crying?” He should probably stash the monikers away for the time being if you're going to be able to do this.

“No— I mean, yes but it's fine I had Jess here.” You don't mean to sound bitter but it seems as if he took it that way because he frowns and nods slowly in a manner that pains you. He doesnt deserve this. He doesnt, hes been so fucking good to you, he cares about you, he—

He’ll never love you the way you love him. If you break it off now it's better for the both of you, he won't have to deal with a crazy girlfriend and you won't feel your heart shatter every time he forgets to call or goes out with Lily. This is good.

This is for the better. You know it's for the better.

“Sam.” You say with a breath, suddenly self conscious of your hair, is it messed up? And the makeup you slept with (though you're not too worried with it being Jess's and all her stuff is waterproof). “I— uh, we should probably go to sleep. I'm still tired and you just came back, right?”

“Yeah, but if you want to talk about something, anything—” Why is he making this so hard?

“No, no, we should just… wait, did Dean bring you here, with your bags? You don't have your car?” He confirms your words and you groan, walking past him to the kitchenette, opening the fridge door to hopefully find the iced tea you hid from Jess. Thank god for blueberry iced teas.

“I can go back to my apartment, it's no problem,” And you freeze your movements as you curse yourself under your breath. That isn't what you meant, you're just very overstimulated and there's too many thoughts going on in your head, you wish you could calm them down, and now sam is staying over, and he’ll probably expect you to crash with him in Jess’s room.

“Sam, ‘m sorry, it’s just I’m so tired—”

“No, I get it. It’s fine, a cab—”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for being bitchy, I just wanna head to bed, that’s all. And I’m not hauling you into a cab, we’ll take Jess’s room… unless you wanna be alone?”

You look up from your drink to gouge his expression and he shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “‘Course not.”

Great. “Okay, you wanna drink something?”

At his refusal with a short ‘thank you’, you tell him you’ll be in the room in a moment which he takes as the dismissal it is, shutting the door behind him so you’re completely alone in the living room. Kitchen. What the fuck ever this is.

God, this is— you brush your hands through your hair shutting your eyes aggressively. You’re okay. It’s okay. The earth is still spinning and you haven’t failed any of your classes— and Sam is here and he’s being a loving boyfriend saying he misses you, what is wrong with you?

You decide that enough thinking’s enough as you drown the rest of your drink and enter the room with soft footsteps. Sam’s sprawled out on your best friend's bed and you check yourself out in the mirror quickly to see that, surprisingly, you look somewhat decent. You shut the lights off before you get in the bed, lying on your back just as Sam is.

Is it rude to sleep on your side? Definitely is. You can’t find it in yourself to care as you do it, moving the covers so they aren’t all on your side, and sing yourself to sleep because what the hell else are you supposed to do after today?

Waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and maybe even food? Yes. Always. Please.

You don’t waste a second getting off the bed, not like you’re getting any more sleep with the sun filling the room with a warm, golden glow. You shut the blinds off for good measure before freshening up in the bathroom quickly, not wanting to miss whatever was happening in the kitchen outside.

The second you open the door you’re engulfed in the scent, though this time you notice how sweet it is. You smile as you look over and see— oh. Right. You forgot. That’s why you’re in Jess’s room.

Jess is sitting on the counter while Sam cooks, what you assume are pancakes, on the stove. At the sound of the door, they both face you, Jess quickly running off the counter and into your arms. You reciprocate in no time, squeezing her tighter. “You okay?” She whispers in your ear, as good of a friend as ever.

“‘M okay. Please stay today.” When you pull away, she nods at you, like it’s a given then drags you to where she was sitting, right next to Sam. His smile pulls at your heartstrings and he leans down for a kiss that— there’s no way you’re not kissing him back. Your left-hand lands on his bicep as you steady yourself. When he pulls away, he doesn’t go completely, his face inches from yours, and he steals another quick one.

He’s back to cooking as he mumbles, “Missed you.”

What’s happening right now?

What on earth is happening right now?

You’ll think about it when you’re more awake. Or at least when you have food in you.

“Jess, what do you have planned for today?” you ask, your hand still on him as you rub it absentmindedly.

“I have classes— so do you, Sam!” Isn’t Jess a year younger than Sam? you never noticed how much she knows about the graduating class despite not being a part of it. She reads your mind like she's always done, “Gen’s with him, ‘sides most of my friends are from his class.”

Right. Gen. you should probably apologize to her for stealing her girlfriend for an entire night. Only god knows how she’s coping right now. When you glance at Jess you notice her surveying you and Sam, so you quickly take a step back to remove your hand.

“What about you, Sam? Any plans?” She listens, leaning over the island that separates the small kitchen from the living room, “other than class obviously, which you will be attending— by the way, Lily is so fucking pissed at you, dude.”

Sam throws his head back with a groan, “i know. She wont stop texting.”

That’s reassuring. He continues, “But I don't think I’m up for anything today. I’ll go the classes and talk to lily about finishing the project next week. You think she’ll understand?” His eyes catch yours and you feel obligated to answer with a quick nod.

He’s back to flipping pancakes that look surprisingly delicious considering you’ve never once seen him cook before. Though, in your defense, you’ve usually eaten out for every dinner and breakfast you spent together. Which now that you think of it, isnt cost-effective. Someone should chek on your bank account. Not you, obviously, but someone should.

“It smells really good.” you compliment, gesturing to jess to bring you a brush, which she complies, leaving to find one. “Where’d you learn to make food like that?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, i used to read lots of books growing up, guess i picked up some cooking ones.”

“Really? That’s nice. Dean mustve been real lucky having you try out recipes.” you joke, dipping a fork into the batter to try it. ‘S horrible, just like you expected. It isnt cake batter, it wont taste good, and you knew that— doesnt mean you wont try it.

“Yeah he didnt really, i mean i never actually cooked or anything, just read them and when i got the apartment with Gen i started cooking more, turns out its something i like.” oh its cute to think that coming to stanford, getting his own place with gen, had opened up this kind of opportunity for him, and it has you wondering what else he did when he was younger. Youd hardly spoke of either of your childhoods— mostly because as much as you love your parents, you dont like thinking too much of how they were when you were younger, and apparently that lead to not asking about sam’s. Hes never talked about his mum, now that you notice it.

Is she out of the picture? Are you even allowed to ask? Did you want to ask considering whats been on your mind since yesterday? God, you dont even know if youre going through with it. Hes here and hes cooking breakfast, kissing you, holding you— why would you want to let that go?

“Here, whore.” jess emerges from her room, throwing the hairbrush.

“Thanks, slut.” she smirks, plopping onto the couch and you catch the look of surprise on sam’s face. “What? Whats wrong? We’re joking its just a thing we do.”

“No, i now, just didn't know you do that. Never heard it before.”

“Yeah, i don't even know how it started but it's cute.” he agrees leaning down for another kiss which you, stupidly, let him do. Your hand comes up to brush against his cheek before you remember the object you’re holding and disconnect, sitting on the counter, brushing your roots so you can tie your hair back with no fly-away strands. “You okay?”

You nod, not quite meeting his eyes as you focus on making sure your hair is perfect without so much as a phone camera. “Really?” He prodes, “you don’t look it. You’ve been weird since yesterday, did I do something?” Oh, did you ever, Winchester .

“No, Sam, ‘m fine.” He sighs but lets it go. It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for a stack of pancakes to finish cooking and Sam serves it on the counter next to maple syrup and some chocolate sauce he says he found in the fridge (you made it a few days ago but didn’t like it).

Thankfully, everyone enjoys the food, and Jess seems like she has a lot to say about him skipping out on you, then coming back all of a sudden, for losing communication with her— she doesn’t bring up yesterday at all which helps you relax since you’re not even sure what you’re going to do anymore.

It’s ten by the time you’re all done and the dishes are in the sink, you (like a fucking idiot again) kiss sam’s cheek, thanking him excessively. “I’m glad you liked it, it was my first time, I think.”

“You think?” He takes a step closer, both hands coming to rest on your waist as he nods. Why does he just love talking when you’re close to each other? Don’t people have conversations a few feet away anymore? Not possible?

“Yeah, I’m not sure if the first time counts, ‘nothin like what you had today, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, it was amazing.” You wish you could say you missed the faint blush on his cheeks, but you didn’t, and it did nothing but make you want to kiss him more. “When do your classes start?”

“Two hours.” You frown, looking behind him at the clock you have hanged up.

“Seriously?”

“Dead.” You groan, looking around to find his bags on the floor on your front door, “I already packed.”

“I didn’t know you unpacked.”

“I didn’t exactly, just got some stuff out for this morning, but I’m ready to go, I’ll see you later today?”

You tilt your head after he kisses it, and you watch him walk away. “Today? What’s today?”

He shrugs, carding the duffel, “nothing specific, just thought I’d see you. If you want.”

If you want. Do you want? “Sure, we’ll see.” He nods, uncertain, before he yells out for Jess who rushes out of her room to hug him, muttering about ‘not being sure if she’ll ever see him again considering he likes to disappear’.

Couldn’t have said it better, Jess. You don’t have any classes today but some studying would do you good so you lock yourself in your room for an hour before Jess barges in and you’re more confused to find she’s not at Sam’s than you are to see her in lace lingerie. Because. What. The. Fuck.

“Jess!”

“Do I look pretty?” She teases, twirling around like a Disney princess, before going for something more R-rated, playing with the waistband of her panties. “Was gonna wear it last night for Gen, so I wanna surprise her but I’m scared black isn't my color.”

“Slut! Absolute slut. You’re showing me your girlfriend’s outfit? Sluttiest whore there ever was.” She giggles, walking over to your desk, “black is definitely your color, babe, you know that, don’t worry about it, Gen’ll love it.”

She still seems hesitant, but because Jess would rather kill herself before ever giving you reason to comfort her, she changes the subject, closing your books, “okay, tell me about Sam.”

“What about him? He’s in class— or has class in an hour, just like you do.”

“You’re breaking up with him?” You shrug, leaning back in your seat, “what do you mean,” she repeats your gesture mockingly, slapping your shoulder, “man up and choose a side.”

“Not a man. And besides, he doesn’t know so—”

“Stop being like this,” she scolds, crossing her arms in front of her chest, though it does nothing for her modesty, not that you care, “I know you and you can’t even fucking focus on anatomy. Come on, you need to do something. Talk with Sam or stop trying at all, there’s no other option and you know it.”

“Yeah well the two options suck.” You groan, slamming your head down on the desk. “I—”

“You love him, yeah.”

“Do you… think he does too?” You mumble against the desk before hearing her sigh. And it fucking breaks your heart to hear it indirectly. She hasn’t said anything even yesterday. She didn’t deny it, but she didn’t confirm that your fears are valid— she is now. She’s telling you again, as if you haven’t repeated it like a prayer in your mind, that you’ve just gone too fast.

“Sam cares about you, you know that, baby. I mean, he just cooked breakfast after staying the night. You guys shared the bed— he wants you, loves having you around.”

“But doesn’t love me.” You look up at her, already being sure tears will stain your face any moment now.

“It’s not even about time, it’s just— you’re scared and you’re letting it affect everything else in your life.”

“Isn’t that normal—”

“It isn’t. You know it isn’t. Me and Gen spend almost everyday together, but I know my place in her life, as her friend, girlfriend, lover, that’s all I am. At least for now, till we’re done with college and then me and her will figure it out. You’re different, you’re thinking of the future all the time and you’re overthinking what he says when he’s not here, and Sam's been doing things that don’t sit right with you— I know he has, don’t tell me he hasn’t. The first night you spent at his apartment when we told you about Lily I knew something was off. You don’t deserve to live in fear and anxiety because of a man being in your life. And it isn’t Sam’s fault, maybe— it’s not yours either, but it’s just not the right time.”

What’s worse, hearing what you want to hear or hearing what’s honest?

“Hey, Sam. I know you’re in class right now so just, call me when you’re done, we need to talk.” You wince at the last phrase, regretting it already. You’re about to put the phone down when it starts to vibrate with a call from him. Huh.

“Hey, baby, I’m done with class, I was just speaking with the professor. I haven't listened to your voicemail yet, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes at the lie, your breathing heavy, “just need to see you. Or actually,” you can’t bring him in blind, “it is something. Just, when can I see you?”

“Oh. I have a few classes then the project with Lily, so maybe eight?”

“Is there— when’s your next class?”

“Few hours.”

“Can we meet up now?”

“Is it important? because I don’t wanna cut it short and I don’t want to be late for class.”

“It’s important but it won’t take long.” He sighs, probably at your vague answers before deciding to meet up with you in your apartment. Like the gentlemen he is. That you’re leaving.

You call Jess the entire twenty minutes it takes him to knock on your door and she helps your through it all, the same way she has the second this started.

He greets you with a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and somehow that eases your worry. At least he knows something is coming. You close the door behind it and gulp before you let go of the knob and lean against it, not sitting down. He’ll probably want to leave anyways.

“What’s wrong? Is this about why you’ve been acting this way since yesterday?”

Maybe. Why does your mouth stop fucking working the second you actually have to say something? How on earth is that fucking fair. “It’s not fair.” Oh, great. There goes your speech.

“What’s not—”

“It’s not fair to us, what’s happening right now so I think we should just, you know, like not be together.”

Like, not be together? Way to show off how much of a seventeen year old you actually are.

“What?” He— Sam looks genuinely confused and that’s not something you anticipated.

“Breaking up. I’m breaking off what we’re doing because it’s just not working.” And that seems to register for him, finally and lets out a defeated breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “What?”

“I knew it was coming, I just have no fucking idea why. Why you’ve been so— I just need an explanation.”

“It’s everything, okay? It’s my fault, I started this knowing I wasn’t ready for a relationship and you’re great, Sam, but it’s not what I need right now.” You’re not sure what you’re saying half way through, this is not the script you rehearsed and he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you, shaking his head as if to say ‘bullshit’. “It’s a lot of things that we just can’t change about you and about me, we’re just not supposed to be together.”

“Don’t give me that crap, what can’t we change? And why can’t we change it?” He’s frustrated, not exactly angry and you wish you could gauge more of his feelings than just that but the truth is you’re radiating fear and anxiety that you can’t focus on anyone else’s emotions. “And why are you so tense?”

“Because I’m—”

“Breaking it off doesn’t mean you have to be shaking.” His voice is slightly raised so he cuts himself off, taking a breath before taking a step towards you, “You shouldn’t be shaking, okay? It’s fine, I respect your decision, but talking about this is also important.”

“But it’s over, right?” He tilts his head in confusion. “I mean, because, you’re not trying to convince me or anything, you’re just asking.”

“I’m not, what does that even mean? Do you not want me to fight for us?”

“Fighting for us would entitle fighting me, so I don’t think so. I’m sure this is the right thing to do, Sam. I’m very sure—.”

“Why?”

“Because of a—”

“Real fucking answers.” You flinch at his tone, supporting your weight on the other leg..

“A lot of what you think is okay and normal just isn’t with me. Like hanging out with Lily or leaving out of nowhere with Dean—”

“We talked about both of these things before I decided on them! Do you just keep a list of all the things I’m doing that you slightly disapprove of?”

“No, but it’s still early and this just shows we’re not for each other.”

“What about the things that show that we are? Studying at the apartment, the dinners, what was all of that? If you’re gonna make a list at least make it fair.”

“This isn’t a list!” You huff, angry at this point and you move away from the door so you’re not standing face to face, “it’s what I think is right. And I can’t live like this if I’m going to have to be okay with all of these things.”

“Live like this? You’re making thsi sound like—”

“—that’s just the way I see it, Sam.” You’re not sure what you would do if you hear him mock your overthinking. Mock marriage and your future.

“Well it’s wrong. I think we’re good for each other when you aren’t getting in your head about everything. You don’t have to think about things so intensely, and I’m not brushing your feelings aside, I get that they’re there, but if you keep giving them more than they deserve they’ll eat at you.”

“So will being with you.”

You’re a lot of things, but weak isn’t one of them. You’re starting to think that just isn’t true. And it’s starting to sink in as you watch Sam scoff out a breath, his hands covering his eyes as if he’s willing the entire conversation away.

And you’re starting to think it’s not true when he makes a move to leave the door.

And you’re sure it’s not true when you let him leave without a word.

part eight (epilogue); honey, you're familiar.

title: all my habits came back around (calgary by tate mcrae)

as we near the end of this thing I made that you guys decided to care about, I want to say thank you. I wrote the first chapter as a one-shot, and here we are over thirty thousand words later. I'm so grateful to this fic for how much it has allowed me to interact with the fandom and the amazing people in it.

on another note, this is not the end— don't worry— though this is exactly how I wanted the fic to go because when I wrote this, I had a very specific character in mind: one who is self-sabotaging and constantly struggling with an internal battle, she's complicated. While, of course, she will figure that out, it won't be now, and it won't be with Sam.

this doesn't spoil anything for the last and final chapter, but I did want to give some of my thoughts + I'm a sucker for reusing the first words of the first chapter in the end if you guys noticed + swear this series is a happy ending just wait!!

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sammy #Stanford Sam Winchester #stanford sam #laila writes!!

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callsign-muffin · 3 days

Text

Heal Together: Chapter 6

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Sorry this chapter took much longer than usual. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share this on the page but y'all might already know... I'm a nurse. So my schedule is nice because I only work 3 days or nights a week but... sometimes those days/nights knock me on my ass. This week was no exception.

I really appreciate every single person who has liked, reblogged, and commented on my work. It means EVERYTHING to me. I hope you all enjoy this part!

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 2.2k+

You had been flipped to nights this week and your body was suffering from the sudden change to your circadian rhythm. You and Carly walked to the parking garage in exhausted silence together as the sun rose over the hospital. It was a hard night to say the least, you both were assigned to unstable elderly patients that seemed to be circling the drain. It almost felt cruel to keep them from dying peacefully because there was no way they were ever going to get better. The life sustaining care you were forced to give was just prolonging the inevitable. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Bradley tried to text you when he woke up at 5am for work to ask how your shift was going. You quickly responded that it was crazy and that you couldn’t talk until you got off at 7:30.

Bradley Bradshaw: Please tell me you’re out of there and able to see this incredible sun rise

You: I am, thank God! I love San Diego sunrises

“Who’s that?” Carly peered over at your phone and saw the name, “Oh my god! He’s checking in on you post shift?!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s his second time checking in on me, he texted me when he got up earlier but I said things were too crazy on the unit to talk.”

“What happened between you two then?” She asked, “You said he didn’t stay the night or anything.”

You knew she was going to ask for more information soon enough. You two were on your feet caring for your patients all night so there was no time to catch up at the nurse’s station. “He didn’t. But we hung out for a while, talked, drank a lot of wine, and he couldn’t drive himself home. So he took an Uber and then took me to brunch when he came to pick up his car.”

“He didn’t kiss you?” She asked.

You shook your head, “Nope, didn’t after brunch either.”

“Huh,” she looked puzzled, “He’s obviously so into you, we could all see it at the bar. And he took you out on a date. And he’s texting you first thing when he wakes up… he obviously likes you. Why hasn’t he kissed you?!?!”

You shrugged, “I mean, maybe he isn’t and he just wants to be friends. I also feel like dating a former patient probably breaks some kind of nursing ethics code.”

It was something that occurred to you after brunch with Bradley the day before, the possibility of this flirtation messing with your professional life.

Carly’s face dropped when the two of you stopped at your car, “Oh my god… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, “Yeah… so I’ve gotta ask you and I’d like you to pass it on to Madi and Sam too, not to discuss Saturday or my… friendship with Bradley at work.”

She nodded, “Of course, I’m sorry I even brought it up briefly when we got on the unit last night.”

“It’s okay, no one was around to hear. I’m just not very well liked by the senior nurses and some of the providers. I just don’t want to give them something to talk about, you know?” You explained.

“Absolutely. When is your contract up?” She asked.

“4 weeks, they asked me to extend though.” You rubbed your eyes, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Are you gonna do it? Or is it too early in the morning to talk about this?” She giggled.

You nodded, “Bingo. Let’s leave this as ‘to be continued’.”

“Alright, get home safe.” She waved you off and headed towards her car a few spots away.

Once in your Toyota Corolla and buckled, you blasted loud music and freezing cold AC to keep you awake and alert on your commute home. Once there you peaked at your phone.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now that you’ve enjoyed the sunrise, you gotta get your ass to bed.

You: Yes sir, I’ll be out of commission until 1500 hours.

When you arrived home, you looked at your phone again to see Bradley replied with the saluting emoji. You dragged yourself out of the car and up to your apartment, in front of your door was a plastic takeout bag. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up, it was clearly left there just minutes ago. You blinked through your exhausted blurry vision and saw a note typed in the comments on the receipt… it was from the same place you had brunch with Bradley two days before.

“After working through the night, you deserve a true Californian breakfast and a nap. —Bradshaw”

This may be one of the most thoughtful things anyone had done for you in a while. You were so exhausted, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of the parcel. When you entered your apartment, you threw your bag down and went straight to the kitchen. You opened the bag to find a breakfast burrito neatly wrapped in aluminum foil, Bradley’s go to menu item. Maybe it was because of the surprise of it waiting for you at the door or because you were absolutely starving, but that thing tasted better than sex. You started your post night shift ritual with a shower. After brushing your teeth, doing your skin care, and changing into comfy clothes, you drew the black out curtains in your room, turned on the sound machine, and set an alarm for 2pm before popping a melatonin gummy. After many years as a nurse and often flipping between days and nights, you had this sleep ritual down to an absolute science.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N <3: thank you so much for breakfast. That may be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.

Rooster’s heart fluttered when the message flashed across his phone around 8AM. The Dagger Squad had just finished running a drill that ended with 200 push ups. That small rush made him forget how his muscles were screaming at him. He went to reply and saw the “do not disturb” icon was on. He was so glad since that meant Y/N was most likely sleeping. So he left a reply for her to wake up to.

Bradley: I’m glad it came just in time! Hope you’re taking the best nap ever :)

“Is that sexy nurse?” Natasha inquired as she peered over his shoulder.

Rooster rolled his eyes, “Phoenix, she has a name… and that’s none of your business.”

“So yes,” she smirked, “you are texting her.”

“I’m replying to her,” he corrected, “she worked all night last night and is on again tonight. So she won’t get it until she wakes up.”

She stood on her tip toes to get a better look at the screen, “You sent her breakfast?!?!”

Bradley was not loving this line of questioning but he knew he had to answer or Phoenix would never lay off, “I sent UberEats for her to come home too.”

“You are down bad, my friend.” She shook her head.

“Am not.” He quipped back.

“ Are too!” She shoved him.

“That’s not fair Phoenix, just cause you’re one of the boys doesn’t mean I’ll stoop low enough to shove a woman.” He groaned.

She chuckled, “You’re just scared to get your shit rocked, Bradshaw.”

Hangman suddenly appeared beside Phoenix, skillfully placing her in a headlock. “Is this little lady giving you trouble, Rooster?”

She squirmed and screamed, “Hangman, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Ya know Phoenix,” he sighed, “Forever the bully.”

Phoenix reached over and Hangman a firm tap in the junk, causing him to jump and release her.

Rooster couldn’t help but smile as the two of them fought like siblings.

“I was asking him about the hot nurse from the other night.” She explained, “He’s texting her and sent breakfast to her place for her to come home to after work.”

Hangman’s face lit up, “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley… I never thought I’d see the day. You’re courtin’ a fine lady.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Courting is a strong word. I’m showing her that I’m… kinda interested.”

Hangman and Phoenix gave each other knowing looks.

Natasha nodded, “Uh huh, yeah. Sureeeeee.”

2pm rolled around and Bradley was wrapping up his work day on base.

Y/N <3: Not the best nap ever but pretty damn good. I’m gonna walk on the beach and get some sunshine before it’s back to the dungeon for the night. What are you up to for the rest of the day?

Should he shoot his shot? She wouldn’t keep engaging with him if she wasn’t at least a little interested, right?

Bradley: Joining you for a walk on the beach if you’ll allow it.

Y/N <3: I would love that. What time can you be at my place?

This was good. This was really good. She’s invited him back to her place.

Bradley: I gotta change out of my uniform and stuff, how does 3 sound?

Y/N <3: Perfect, I’ll see you soon :)

Rooster had an extra skip in his step as he packed up his things, grateful for the 6am start allowing his work day to have an early finish. Once in his Bronco, he sped home to change into some casual clothes. He decided to really shake it up and not wear his usual Hawaiian shirt and jeans combo. A UVA t-shirt and some gym shorts seemed a lot more appropriate for a casual beach walk. Bradley really couldn’t believe he was putting that much thought into what he wore for something so casual.

When he walked up to her door he could hear music through it. Whatever Y/N was listening to, she was clearly jamming. When he knocked, she quickly called out, “It’s open!”. He got a better listen to the music once the door was open, it was high energy with a… saxophone? It was kind of lit.

“What is this?” Bradley asked, “It’s awesome!”

“Modern Woman by Bleachers,” she entered the living room wearing a similar outfit to his, a university t-shirt and gym shorts, “Isn’t it great? Kinda gives me Springsteen vibes.”

He paused and listened a little more, “Yes, that’s spot on!”

“Let me just make sure I have my life together for work, so I can just change and leave later.” She said, heading toward the kitchen.

He took another good look at her as she took her lunchbox, water bottle, and an energy drink from the fridge and set it out on the counter. Fresh faced from her nap, hair in a bun, shorts and a t-shirt… he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Y/N paused for a moment and looked over at Rooster, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my face?”

He shook his head, “Yes, everything’s great… you look great.”

She smiled shyly and continued her task, “Thank you, Bradley… are you ready to head to the beach?”

“Hell yeah,” he asked, “which beach are we headed to?”

“Nothing fancy, just the beach a few blocks away.” She shrugged, “Hope you don’t mind tagging along on my normal, boring jaunt.”

He shook his head, “Y/N, nothing with you could be boring. I’d have fun watching paint dry.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

The two of you walked along the shoreline; the waves ebbed and flowed across the sand and towards your feet. The wind whipped across your face and through your hair, making it dance wildly. Bradley looked so handsome beside you, you couldn’t help but stare and hope that maybe it would be less obvious since you had sunglasses on.

“I should start doing this more, it’s much more pleasant than running.” He chuckled to himself, “It’s so peaceful.”

You giggled, “Drinking bleach is more pleasant than running, in my opinion.”

“You’re not a runner?” He asked.

“Not unless something’s chasing me.” You quipped.

A smirk slowly crept across Bradley’s face. You weren’t exactly sure what was going through his head but you felt the sudden urge to start sprinting. Next thing you knew he was hot on your heels and you couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, running on sand was so freaking hard! Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease.

“BRADSHAW!!!” You cried out through your giggles, leaning your head back on his shoulder behind you.

His face burrowed into your neck, “You say you’re not a runner but you’re pretty speedy.”

You turned your head to look at him, nose to nose, still giggling breathlessly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said simply.

It was like two magnets, your lips crashed into his, there was no force that could stop it. Once you realized what you did, you quickly pulled away, “I’m so sorry.”

He placed you gently back on your feet, “Y/N, the only thing you owe me an apology for is stopping.”

Your stomach fluttered, “Soooo… you wanna do it again?”

“Kiss me, you fool.” He chuckled, grabbing you by the cheeks and stroking them sweetly with his thumb.

You stepped closer so you two were chest to chest and gently brushed your lips against his. With a jolt of pure electricity, you pressed deeper into his kiss. It wasn’t until this moment, when you tasted his lips, that you realized how fucking starving you were.

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