#and they hate every second and i enjoy it so so much

[adelliet]

Bob Reynolds x f!reader

DREAMY VACATION

Summary: You've been sent on vacation to take a break from saving the world, but there's no hiding from your emotions that will eventually take over.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, alcohol consumption, body insecurity, Sentry awakening (just for a second), erection, breast play, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hickeys

A/n: Hii! So uhm this is LONG AS FUCK, like a literal novel so I am warning you. Anyways I wanted to thank you for 1k followers?! How?! You have no idea how much this means to me. I am grateful for each and every one of you and I will try my best to improve my writing. Hopefully you will like my future projects as much as you've liked the ones I have done so far. Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

You and the rest of the Thunderbolts had been deployed to Spain on what was supposed to be a critical mission. The briefing was vague but urgent, something about a potential global threat developing near the coast.

On the plane to Alicante, you sat down next to Bob. He looked tense. Really tense. He was gripping the armrest like it might fly off on its own. His face was pale, and his shoulders stiff as stone.

“Hey,” you said gently, nudging him with your elbow as you got settled. “You okay?”

Bob didn’t answer right away. He blinked, clearly trying not to throw up, and then murmured, “Um… do you maybe wanna sit by the window instead?” He didn’t look at you, just stared straight ahead like a man facing death.

Without missing a beat, you nodded. “Sure. Come on.”

You stood up and let him shuffle over into your seat. The second he sat down, he let out a deep belch, followed by a hoarse, “Oh God…”

You were already leaning closer, scanning his face with concern. “You good?”

Your hand found his knee, giving it a comforting rub. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands now gripping the tray table for dear life.

He nodded slowly, jaw clenched. “I’m okay. Just… hate flying.”

You offered a soft smile and stayed close. “I’ll be right here the whole time, okay? Just breathe.”

He nodded again, and despite how miserable he looked, his posture softened slightly, just enough to tell you that your presence was doing what your words couldn’t.

“I’ll go get some water and a bag, just in case,” you told him gently, already sliding out of your seat. Bob gave a tiny nod, eyes still shut, lips tight as if even opening them would invite disaster. You made your way down the aisle, stopping a flight attendant with a polite smile and a quick explanation.

She gave you a knowing look. “Nervous flyer?”

“Something like that,” you chuckled.

A minute later, you returned to your row, holding a small bottle of water and one of those crinkly, shame-colored paper bags. Bob looked slightly less pale than before—his hands weren’t as white-knuckled on the armrests, and his breathing had calmed a little. But he still had that I-might-hurl-any-second look going on.

“Here,” you said, sitting back down and offering both the water and the bag. “Just in case. Don’t worry, it’s only a few hours.”

The moment the word “hours” left your mouth, Bob visibly tensed. He choked on his own spit and shot you a wide-eyed stare like you’d just told him he’d have to wrestle an alligator.

You raised your hands defensively. “Okay, wrong choice of words—ignore me.”

Before either of you could say more, the engines began to roar and the plane started rolling forward. Bob immediately slumped into his seat like a melting popsicle, shut his mouth and eyes, and gripped the tray table as if it were the only thing anchoring him to this dimension.

You couldn’t help a soft smile. He looked a bit ridiculous and miserable at the same time.

“This is the worst part,” you said soothingly, glancing out the window as the runway sped beneath you. “It gets better after takeoff.”

As the plane began to lift from the ground, your heart fluttered with excitement. A new mission in Europe. A whole new landscape, new memories. Even if you weren’t saving the world, part of you loved the thrill of the unknown.

You inhaled deeply, a soft smile on your lips… until you felt a touch.

You turned your head just in time to see Bob—eyes still closed, jaw clenched—reach out blindly and grab your hand in his. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look at you. He just held on. Tightly.

You looked down at your interlaced fingers. He was basically crushing your hand, but you didn’t pull away. If this helped him even a little, you weren’t going anywhere.

Your thumb brushed over his knuckles in quiet reassurance. You didn’t say anything. He didn’t either. But something in the weight of his grip, the vulnerability of that small action, felt more genuine than a thousand words.

Sure, your hand might be useless for the next few hours, but somehow that didn’t matter. It was Bob. That’s what made it okay.

The flight dragged on peacefully, and at some point, exhaustion won.

By the time the pilot announced the descent, both you and Bob were fast asleep. The flight attendant’s gentle voice over the intercom was what stirred you.

“Excuse me—we’ll be landing shortly.”

You blinked groggily, and as your senses slowly returned, you realized that you and Bob were still holding hands. The entire flight. Neither of you had let go, not even in your sleep.

You turned your head at the same time he did, both of you blinking at each other in a dazed, half-dream state. Then you both released your grips at once, slowly, carefully.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Bob straightened his seat and adjusted his hoodie like he could hide in it.

“…Feeling better?” you asked softly, keeping your voice low enough so only he could hear. He nodded, and for the first time that day, smiled at you—not the nervous, half-broken kind, but something real.

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.” His voice was quiet, but sincere.

You smiled back before you even realized it, heart tugging in that dangerous, stupid way it did whenever he looked at you like that.

Sometimes you wondered if Bob Reynolds was even real. Maybe he was a highly advanced hologram, or worse, a social experiment where you were the test subject. Because if he was a trap, a trick, or an illusion… well, you’d already fallen in pretty deep.

The moment you landed at the airport in a sunny seaside city called Alicante, your adrenaline was high, ready to face whatever was waiting for you.

But instead of military vehicles or local agents waiting on the tarmac, there was a giant banner reading “SURPRISE!” flapping in the Mediterranean breeze. An agent, smiling way too much for someone who usually briefed on extinction-level events, greeted you all with the bombshell: “There is no mission. You’re here on vacation for one full week. Fully paid. Mandatory.”

Everyone had a different reaction. Some of the team burst out laughing. A few gave each other looks of disbelief. Alexei screamed, “HELL YES, BEACH TIME!” and fist-pumped the air. Yelena already had sunglasses on. But not everyone was thrilled.

Bucky Barnes, for one, looked like someone had just kicked his dog. Twice. He crossed his arms and muttered, “This is ridiculous. I don’t do beaches.”

“Well, now you do,” said Ava with a smirk. “Welcome to bonding camp, grumpy.”

You were all told this wasn’t just a vacation, it was a “team-building retreat.” You were going to be forced to relax together, apparently to grow stronger as a unit. And no one was allowed to bail.

Despite the chaos of your missions and all the tension in the beginning, over the past few months of cohabitating in Stark Tower, you’d all grown… closer. There were still arguments, sure—someone was always stealing snacks, using someone else’s mug, or playing music too loud at 3AM—but you knew each other now. Knew who liked what, who needed quiet mornings, who hogged the bathroom, and who cried during certain movie scenes (spoiler: it’s more of them than you expected).

But the bond between you and Bob Reynolds stood out most.

Everyone saw it. From the moment you helped rescue him, you’d never left his side. You were the first to check if he was injured, the first to speak to him like a human being and not a walking nuclear reactor. You made sure he was okay. Like some stray dog the world had tossed aside—and you just quietly decided he was yours now.

And the team followed your lead. Despite what he’d done, despite nearly destroying the world and ripping open old wounds in everyone’s psyche, they welcomed him with open arms. Because you did.

“Vacation?” Bob raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused.

“Yup,” John said with a grin, giving him a playful nudge. “That’s when you don’t do anything and it’s totally fine. You should try it sometime.”

Bob didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked suspicious of the concept. His whole life had been built around duty, damage control, and trying not to explode. The idea of just… existing with no expectations felt foreign. Maybe even dangerous.

“Alright folks, let’s move out,” Yelena called, hoisting her bag over her shoulder with that bossy tone everyone obeyed without question. She might’ve shared the leadership role with Bucky, but she had the charisma of someone who got things done.

Like a herd of reluctant high schoolers on a mandatory field trip, the team followed—grumbling, joking, dragging their feet, but moving.

The drive wasn’t long.

A sleek black limousine pulled up to your destination within the hour. A row of elegant, private beach cottages spread out before you, nestled in a secluded cove just outside Alicante.

The sand was pale gold, soft as powdered sugar, stretching out toward the turquoise horizon. The sea shimmered beneath the sunlight, waves gentle and lazy. Palm trees lined the perimeter, their leaves rustling with every breeze, casting just enough shade to make the heat feel like a pleasant hug instead of a punishment.

The place felt untouched. Quiet.

Not exactly deserted—but exclusive. You could see why no ordinary tourists were lounging here. It wasn’t just the off-hour, it was the price. This was the kind of luxury reserved for diplomats and billionaires. For people who’d seen too much, done too much, and needed the world to shut up for five minutes.

For the first time, you felt the weight of silence around the team. Not the awkward kind—just a collective breath being held, like everyone was realizing at once how damn beautiful it was here.

The agent who’d escorted you out of the airport handed over two keycards with a charming smile. “One cabin for four men, and one for three ladies,” he said, giving them to Bucky and Yelena respectively.

“Enjoy yourselves.”

And just like that, he was gone, limousine and all, leaving you standing under the cloudless sky, surrounded by the scent of salt and coconut sunscreen.

You glanced around, soaking it all in. Then your gaze shifted to Bob. He was already looking at you. The moment your eyes met, he flinched and immediately turned his head, pretending to be very interested in a nearby bush.

You snorted quietly to yourself, lips twitching with amusement.

“This one’s ours, I guess,” Yelena said, pointing toward the cottage just a few steps away. Even from a distance, the place looked like it belonged in a luxury travel magazine. Creamy-white walls, light wooden trim, huge windows, and a little porch with hanging hammocks swaying lazily in the breeze. A dream come true.

You, Yelena and Ava made your way over with your bags. Yelena slid the keycard, and the door clicked open. The inside was even more stunning.

It was like stepping into a Pinterest board. The walls were painted in soft seafoam greens and sun-washed whites. Rattan furniture, pastel cushions, and airy curtains gave the space a coastal, boho vibe. There was a faint scent of lavender and driftwood in the air—relaxing, expensive, comforting.

Sunlight poured through the huge windows, illuminating a common area with plush couches, a breakfast bar stocked with fruits and snacks, and wide glass doors that opened directly onto the beach. You could hear the waves as if the ocean was whispering, You’re safe here.

“Holy shit,” Ava breathed out, spinning in a slow circle like she couldn’t believe this wasn’t CGI. “This is nicer than my actual apartment.”

Yelena dropped her bag on the nearest bed with a satisfied smirk. “This is acceptable.”

You couldn’t help but smile. A real, easy smile, the kind that felt rare lately. Everything about this place felt… right and peaceful.

And as you peeked out the back window and saw the boys dragging their bags toward their own cottage, you knew this week was going to be something different. Maybe even healing.

A few hours had passed since you arrived. You’d unpacked, showered, explored the fridge, which was magically stocked with mouthwatering, chef-level food, and finally settled into that post-travel stillness.

The late afternoon sun blanketed everything in golden light as you lounged on the front veranda of your cottage. Yelena had claimed the hammock and was swinging gently, sunglasses on, arms behind her head, looking like a war-hardened goddess pretending to be chill.

You and Ava had claimed two of the hanging lounge chairs, gently swaying as you soaked in the sun. Both of you had sunglasses perched on your noses, and the soft breeze kept the heat from being overwhelming.

“What are we even supposed to do here?” Ava asked, not bothering to open her eyes. Her voice was lazy, relaxed, a perfect match for the quiet waves in the distance.

It was a simple question. One you should’ve been able to answer. But you paused. Because… you honestly didn’t know.

Before you could respond with something vague, Yelena chimed in with a deadpan comment that made both you and Ava snort with laughter. It was something about team bonding meaning “not-murdering each other in close quarters,” and that this counted.

Then you added, perfectly flat, “I didn’t even bring a swimsuit.”

Ava blinked, then looked over at you. “Wait, me neither.”

“Didn’t expect this,” you muttered. “Was packing for death, not tanning.”

Yelena groaned. “Okay great. Let’s go buy swimsuits now. Or we’ll end up stuck here melting like idiots on a porch for the rest of the week.”

She was right, so without much debate, the three of you grabbed your canvas totes, wallets, and phones. None of you were wearing anything particularly beach-shopping-appropriate, but it didn’t matter. The streets near the coast would be casual, laid-back—just like the air already felt.

Of course, this wasn’t just a swimsuit run.

You were three women, unsupervised, in a beach town, surrounded by potential sales racks, accessory stands, cafés, and tourist traps. There was no way you were only coming back with swimwear.

As you walked past the guys’ cabin, Yelena suddenly veered off toward the door.

“I’m gonna see if any of the boys want to come with us,” she said casually.

You and Ava paused, hanging back by the path and watching her disappear into the house. After a beat of silence, Ava tilted her head toward you, voice sly behind her shades.

“So… are you two dating?”

You frowned, confused. “What?”

She shifted her sunglasses down her nose just enough to raise her brows. “You and Bob.”

Your eyes went wide. Your mouth dropped into a dramatic, perfect “O.”

“What— no, pffft, no! We’re just… friends. Like you and me.”

Ava laughed softly, but her gaze stayed locked on you, way too perceptive for your comfort.

“Then why don’t you look at me the way you look at him?”

The question hit harder than expected. You froze. Your heart did that thing where it picked up speed, like it was trying to run away before your brain could even catch up.

You opened your mouth to respond—but didn’t get the chance. Yelena reappeared, walking toward you like she owned the world, flanked by Johnny and Alexei, who looked far too amused to be joining a swimsuit shopping trip.

“They’re coming,” she said with a smirk. “Apparently the boys need suits too. And they want to pick out something ridiculous for Bucky.” That got a laugh out of all of you.

You glanced past them, half-hoping Bob would be in the group.

He wasn’t.

A tiny sting settled in your chest—nothing sharp, just that quiet flicker of disappointment. Maybe he needed rest. Maybe he didn’t feel like going out. Maybe… you were overthinking again.

You shook the thought away and caught up with the group, quickly weaving yourself into the casual chatter about the town, the ocean, and just how absurdly gorgeous these beach houses were.

Still… you couldn’t help but glance back, just once, at the boys’ cabin. Maybe he was watching. Maybe he wasn’t. But part of you hoped he’d noticed you were gone.

The shop you found wasn’t some cheap tourist trap. It was small, chic, and clearly catered to high-end beachgoers with taste. White walls, light wood floors, soft acoustic music playing in the background, and racks of curated swimsuits arranged by style, not size. It even smelled nice, like sunscreen and coconuts and fresh linen.

You, Yelena, and Ava wandered through the racks like hunters in the wild, each with your own goal. Ava leaned toward white or black prints. Yelena made a beeline for anything tactical-looking or black. You? You didn’t know what you were looking for, until you saw it.

A white two-piece bikini, delicate but bold.

The top had thin, adjustable straps and a soft triangle cut that showed just enough while still keeping you comfortable. The fabric was smooth, almost pearly under the light, and hugged your shape in a way that felt way too flattering. The bottoms were high-cut at the hips, elongating your legs, and dipped just enough in the front to make you feel sexy.

You held it up, biting your lip.

The fitting rooms were individual little cabins with thick curtains and full mirrors, and for a moment, you just stood inside yours, staring at yourself.

The bikini really did fit, almost suspiciously well. The white stood out against your skin like it was made for you. It hugged your waist, shaped your chest, gave just enough curve to make you hesitate. You adjusted the straps, turned sideways, checked again.

You weren’t sure if you felt powerful or exposed.

Still undecided, you pulled the curtain back and stepped out barefoot onto the cool wooden floor. Yelena was standing just outside, holding a one-piece camo-pattern swimsuit that looked like it belonged in some military-themed Sports Illustrated shoot.

When she turned to look at you, her face froze for a second. And then she blinked. Twice.

“Oh my god,” she said loudly. “Bob’s going to get an erection so hard he’s gonna pass out.”

You stared at her, completely stunned. “Yelena!”

She shrugged, utterly unbothered. “What? It’s true. That bikini is illegal. You look like someone who knows how hot she is.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. That loud, shocked kind of laugh that felt like it echoed off your ribs.

“I’m not getting it just because of Bob!” you protested.

“Sure. Of course,” Yelena said, already turning to hang her swimsuit back on a rack. “You’re getting it because of you. Which happens to be the same you that wants Bob to think about you every time he blinks.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because maybe she wasn’t totally wrong.

You looked back at yourself in the big mirror. Your fingers lightly touched the strap on your hip. Yeah, part of you wanted Bob to notice. And part of you was absolutely terrified he would.

“…Okay,” you said quietly. “I’ll take it.”

The walk back from town was filled with laughter and light teasing. John and Alexei were leading the way, both proudly swinging shopping bags, one of which contained a ridiculous pair of swim trunks Alexei had picked for Bucky, covered in pineapples and flamingos, while Bob’s were thankfully simple and classic.

You held a bag in one hand and kept your eyes on your feet, but no matter what, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting.

What’s Bob gonna do when he sees you in this bikini?

You hadn’t meant to obsess over it. The idea had just settled in your mind. Naturally. Like it belonged there. And now it was stuck. Even as Ava was telling a story about how she accidentally bought three identical sarongs, your mind wandered right back to Bob.

The moment you and Ava set the bags down on the porch with a thud, Yelena clapped her hands like a general calling her troops.

“Alright, troops! Try on your swimsuits, we’re playing beach volleyball in ten!”

You exchanged an amused glance with Ava. You were all tired, even Yelena was complaining on the way back how well she'll be sleeping. Guess that thought was gone now.

Still, the energy in the air was contagious and none of you had the heart to say no, so Yelena texted the guys while the rest of you headed to change.

When you stepped outside, the sun was warm on your skin and the sound of the ocean made everything feel like a dream. Bucky and Alexei were already out there, stretching and tying up the net between two poles. John stood nearby, casually tossing the volleyball between his hands.

But Bob wasn’t there.

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could spiral, Ava appeared behind you and gave you a sharp slap on the butt.

“Relax, your loverboy probably just got distracted picking the perfect outfit,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes with a groan, but your heart was beating just a little faster. You walked over to the group, the sand soft under your feet.

Bucky noticed you first. His eyes lingered for a second longer than they probably should have, but he kept his expression locked down – soldier mode. Alexei, on the other hand, had zero filters.

“WOW, GIRL, LOOK AT YOU!” he shouted across the beach. “YOU LOOK LIKE A GODDESS! AND YOU TOO! AND YOU TOO!!”

He even stumbled into the net and collapsed dramatically, like your beauty had physically floored him. All of you burst out laughing. It was ridiculous, but sweet.

Walker stood back, saying nothing, just calmly observing like always, the ball still rotating between his palms.

“Let me help you with this,” you offered, moving to Bucky’s side and helping him secure the net to the post. You worked silently for a moment until he glanced at you and said, in his typical stern voice: “You look good.”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

Then, behind you, you heard the soft click of the cabin door opening. Your head instantly turned.

Bob stepped out. He wore a plain green T-shirt and simple black swim shorts. His hair was a little tousled from the wind, and the second his eyes landed on you, he froze.

You gave him a small, friendly wave.

He just stood there. His brows twitched. His jaw tensed. Then, as if his legs had remembered how to move, he took a step forward and tripped a little in the sand. Your heart did a backflip.

“See?” Yelena appeared beside you, slapping your shoulder. “Told you he’d be wrecked when he saw you.”

You laughed, half in embarrassment, half in disbelief, and shook your head. “Shut up.”

“Alright, LET’S GOOO!” Alexei yelled, clapping loudly before peeling off his shirt in one dramatic motion. The dude was built like a Greek statue.

Then Bucky followed suit, revealing defined abs and a torso clearly sculpted through years of combat training. All of you fell into stunned silence for a moment.

Even Walker, who hadn’t said a word, took off his shirt and casually joined the group. His body was lean, defined, quiet strength. Bob arrived near the group, awkwardly raising a hand.

“Hey,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. All eyes slowly turned to him waiting. Expectant.

He looked around nervously. “What? Did I—?”

And then he realized. He looked down at his own shirt, then back up at the group.

“Oh! Uh… I think I’ll keep the shirt on. I’m kinda cold,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked. Cold? You didn’t believe him for a second, and you were pretty sure no one else did either. Still, no one pushed him. It was Bob. If he needed to keep his shirt on, he could.

Yelena turned to split the teams. “Alright, someone from the guys can join us, but anyone except Ale—”

“GOING WITH MY GORGEOUS LADIES!” Alexei yelled, cutting her off and dashing over to your side like a golden retriever on espresso.

Yelena let out the longest, most defeated sigh and rubbed her temples.

Teams were decided, and as fate would have it, you and Bob ended up on opposing sides. The game was lighthearted at first, filled with laughter and playful banter. But then John raised the stakes.

“How about this? Winning team gets treated to a round of rum by the losers!”

A collective cheer erupted, and the game intensified. The air buzzed with laughter, the sounds of sneakers shuffling and palms slapping against the volleyball echoing across the beach.

You were focused, at least, you were trying to be. But every time your eyes met Bob’s across the court, something fluttered in your chest. It wasn’t just the look he gave you, it was everything about him.

The way his green shirt clung to his chest, damp from sweat, outlining the gentle definition of his torso; the way his dark hair was slightly tousled, sticking to his forehead; the way he kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

And he was looking.

Almost every single time you looked over at him, his eyes were already on you. And every single time, without fail, he’d catch himself and look away. Fast. Like a startled animal. His Adam’s apple would bob slightly as he swallowed hard, clearly rattled by something—by you, maybe.

But then came the moment he didn’t look away.

You looked across the net, searching for Bob again, and there he was, watching you. He didn’t flinch this time. He didn’t look down or pretend to scratch his face. He stared. And you, feeling just a little bold, gave him a playful wink.

That did it.

Even from across the sand, you saw the way his face lit up red. Not just a hint of blush, but full-on, ear-to-ear crimson. His lips curved upward in a tiny, embarrassed smile—so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching for it.

And of course you were watching. The next serve came. Fast. Too fast. You turned just a moment too late, the ball whizzing past your shoulder and hitting the sand behind you.

Point lost.

Your teammates groaned in playful frustration, and you raised your hand apologetically. “My bad,” you laughed, even though inside, your stomach was doing backflips. Bob was still watching. Except now, he looked like he was having a different kind of crisis.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt nervously. His jaw clenched. His chest was visibly rising and falling faster than it should. His arms were tense. His fingers curled into fist, his knuckles white. His eyes were definitely not on the ball.

They were on you.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath and bent slightly forward. “Uh—sorry! I just need a… quick break!” he blurted out, turning so fast he almost tripped on his own foot. Without another word, he jogged off the court and toward the cabins, his shirt bunched up slightly at the back and clinging tighter at the front than before.

Everyone kind of paused.

“Everything alright?” John called after him, spinning the ball on his finger.

“Yeah! Yeah, all good!” Bob replied quickly, too quickly, his voice cracking slightly as he disappeared around the corner.

The group exchanged glances, some shrugged, some laughed. Yelena rolled her eyes. “He probably has bad stamina.”

But your heart dropped just a bit. Something felt off. You didn’t even think, you tossed the ball aside, murmured a quick, “I’ll go check on him,” and broke into a quick jog, sand kicking up around your ankles as you made your way toward the cabins.

Bob barely made it into the room before slamming the door shut behind him, chest heaving, face flushed and mind spinning. He pressed his back to the wood as if trying to barricade himself from the outside world, from you. His breathing was erratic. He glanced down.

“Oh no no no…”

The situation in his swim trunks was unignorable. His erection was pushing painfully against the fabric, a direct result of the way you looked—sweaty, flushed from the game, laughing with your hair a mess, skin kissed by sunlight. The way your bikini hugged your curves. The way your chest rose and fell when you ran. The way you winked at him.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned. This was not supposed to happen.

He tried to steady his breath and think about anything else, but it was useless. All he could think about was you. How close you’d gotten. How dangerous it felt to even have you in the same game, let alone within touching distance.

Then came the knock.

“Bob?” Your voice was gentle, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He froze. Your voice was the last thing he needed right now. It sent a fresh wave of heat through him. His hands curled into fists.

“Yeah! I’m—uh—I’m fine. Just a headache,” he called out quickly, praying you’d leave.

But you didn’t.

“I can come in, I’ll bring you water or—”

“NO!” he shouted. Too loud, too harsh. The silence that followed was gutting. You stood on the other side of the door, frozen in place. “…Bob?”

He could hear it. The confusion in your voice. The hesitation. He hated himself instantly.

“I just—I need to be alone, okay?” His voice was muffled now, pressed into the crook of his elbow as he paced the room. He could feel his heart pounding, his frustration mounting—not just with the situation, but with himself. “Just leave. Please.”

You didn’t speak. He imagined your face, how hurt you probably looked, how your brows might have creased, how your mouth might’ve opened to argue before you stopped yourself.

Then… footsteps. Soft. Fading. Gone.

He felt the loss immediately. Like something had been torn out of him. He let out a heavy breath and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the door.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, too late. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell.”

No answer.

“Please don’t be mad… I just—I didn’t know what to do, okay? You—you do things to me, and I panicked. Please, come back.” But the hallway was empty and the only response was silence.

As you stepped out of the cabin, your eyes burned with unshed tears. You quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand, forcing a shaky breath through your nose.

“Hey, is Bob okay?” Ava asked, glancing toward the cabin you’d just exited.

You hesitated for a second, then nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “He just said he had a headache,” you replied, your voice carefully even.

You walked toward the volleyball net and joined the opposite team—the one now short a player with Bob gone. “Let’s keep playing,” you added cheerfully, hoping no one would question it further.

To your surprise, the game was good. Fast-paced. Fun.

Even with the ache in your chest, you gave it your all. Maybe even because of it. Every hit, every run across the sand, every cheer was your way of forcing yourself to focus on something else—anything else.

And in the end, your team won.

Yelena, Ava, and Alexei groaned in dramatic defeat while you, John, and Bucky raised your arms in victory. “Winners get the drinks!” Walker grinned.

“Fine,” Yelena rolled her eyes. “But we’re picking the place.”

The sun had dipped lower in the sky now, casting a soft golden glow over the beach. The heat lingered though, a warm comfort against your skin. Everyone decided to freshen up a bit before heading out, and you slipped into something light—a black fishnet-style dress over your swimsuit, barely-there but airy enough to keep cool.

The girls whistled playfully at you as you walked out, and you returned their teasing with a twirl and a wink. But your heart still felt heavy.

The bar you ended up in was cozy, loud with laughter, music humming low in the background. The lights were warm and soft, casting shadows across everyone’s faces. You weren’t drunk—just a little lightheaded from the rum, the kind that made your thoughts buzz and your limbs a bit too loose.

Yelena stuck by your side most of the evening. She laughed with you, poked fun at Walker, and even made a show of challenging Alexei to a drinking contest. But at one point, she leaned in, her gaze a little too knowing.

“You’re smiling,” she said gently, “but your eyes are somewhere else.” You blinked and looked away, sipping from your drink.

“I’m fine,” you murmured.

Yelena sighed and gave you a long look. “I’m gonna go talk to Ava for a bit, okay? You good here?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think I need some time alone anyway.” She gave your hand a light squeeze, then disappeared into the crowd.

You sat in silence for a while, swirling your drink, the taste of sugar and burn lingering on your tongue. Your gaze drifted around the room, but you weren’t really seeing anyone. The voices blended together. The laughter felt far away. Until one voice didn’t.

“Hey…”

You froze. Slowly, your eyes shifted to the side.

Bob.

He stood just beside you, looking awkward, guilty, and entirely out of place. His hair was a little messy, his green shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d been sitting in one place too long before deciding to come. His voice was soft. Tentative.

“…Can I sit?”

You just nodded faintly and let out a small, wordless hum of agreement.

He took the seat next to you, cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he really had the right to be there. You could feel his nervous energy radiating off him. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. His leg bounced subtly beneath the bar. It was obvious he’d been overthinking every second since earlier.

There was a long pause before he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice strained but sincere. “About before. I didn’t mean to—” He hesitated, sighed. “I panicked. That’s all. I didn’t want to shout at you like that. I don’t even know why I did. I just… freaked out.”

You were still leaning against the bar, your head tilted slightly sideways, cheek resting on your folded arm. With your other hand, you absently played with the rim of your empty glass, turning it slowly between your fingers. You didn’t look at him, but your shoulders rose in a small shrug. It wasn’t cold—it just said I hear you. But I’m still processing.

He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly frustrated with himself, then tried again.

“I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Can I… can I buy you another drink? Something strong, maybe? Vodka?”

That finally got a soft sound out of you—a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. You sat up properly, brushing your hair back and meeting his eyes, just briefly.

“No thanks,” you murmured. “I don’t wanna get drunk.”

He nodded, looking down at his hands, embarrassed. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

The quiet between you stretched again, but it didn’t feel quite so heavy now. Just… tentative. Cautious. Slowly, your expression softened, even though the sadness still lingered. You could see how hard he was trying—how guilty he looked, how much he regretted that brief flash of temper. And even if it still hurt, you knew it hadn’t come from a place of cruelty. Just fear.

You sighed gently, then gave him a tiny nod. “It’s okay,” you said at last. “I get it.”

His eyes flicked up to you in relief, and he nodded eagerly. A beat passed before you tilted your head slightly. “Are you having anything?”

He blinked. “Uh… no. Acohol— I don’t really— It doesn’t go well with me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shyly. “I’m not exactly the fun drunk type. More like the ‘embarrass myself and then cry about it later’ type.”

That finally earned a genuine smile from you. A small, honest one. “Alright,” you said.

“What if we uh…drink something sweet? Like juice?” Bob suggested cautiously and you nodded with a hum.

Bob grinned sheepishly and waved at the bartender, ordering two fruity, alcohol-free drinks. When he slid yours toward you and caught the way you looked at him, smile soft, eyes warm, his ears turned a little pink. You raised your glass and clinked it gently against his.

As the conversation carried on, whatever tension had existed between the two of you earlier slowly dissolved, like mist in the morning sun. You laughed together, genuine, unguarded laughter, and it felt easy again. Comfortable.

Before long, you completely forgot why you’d been upset in the first place. Bob was being his awkward, charming self, and it was disarming in the best way. He made a silly comment about the drink being too fruity for a “manly guy like him,” and you rolled your eyes so hard it made him laugh. You teased him back, and time began to slip by, unnoticed and unchecked.

Eventually, Bucky appeared at the entrance of the bar, a little sweaty, clearly ready to call it a night. “We’re heading out,” he called over the soft hum of music and clinking glasses. “You two coming?”

You glanced at Bob and then shook your head with a smile. “We’ll stay a little longer.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow knowingly, gave a short wave, and disappeared with the rest of the group. That “little longer” quickly became several hours. The sky outside deepened into full night, the noise of the bar gradually quieted as the crowd thinned out, and you and Bob were still there, talking and laughing like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Then, suddenly, a voice broke through the moment, gentle but firm. The bartender leaned over and said something in Spanish, “Cerramos.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a soft gasp. “Oh! They're closing.” You jumped off the barstool with a flurry of movement, grabbing your things quickly and tossing an apologetic smile toward the bartender. You replied: “Lo siento!” then turned to Bob.

He was still sitting there, watching you with a puzzled look on his face. Then he glanced at the bartender, and back to you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You speak Spanish?” he asked, a bit of awe in his voice.

You laughed and shook your head. “Nooo,” you admitted, grinning. “But it’s not that hard to guess what he said.”

Bob smiled as the realization hit him. “Right… yeah. That makes sense.” He stood up, stretching a little, and pulled a few bills from his wallet to leave on the counter for the drinks. Together, the two of you stepped out into the warm night.

Outside, the air was rich with the scent of saltwater and distant blossoms. The sky was a canvas of stars, crisp and clear, glittering like tiny diamonds. The moon hung low, casting a soft silver glow over the beach. The waves rolled in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, their gentle crash against the shore creating a peaceful, natural soundtrack that filled the quiet spaces between your laughter.

You walked side by side along the sand, your bare feet leaving prints behind you that the tide would soon claim. Every so often you’d bump shoulders slightly, accidentally-on-purpose, and Bob would smile that sweet, crooked smile of his. Conversation flowed as effortlessly as the breeze around you.

Then, your tone shifted—just a little softer, more curious. “Can I ask you something?”

Bob glanced over at you and gave a small nod, already bracing himself for whatever was coming.

“Why didn’t you take off your shirt?” you asked gently. “Back when we played volleyball?”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, then scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable. His fingers tugged slightly at the fabric of his shirt. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice, and he avoided your gaze.

“I guess I’m just… not that confident. About my body, I mean.”

He let out a soft, nervous snort through his lips, something between a sigh and the sound horses make when they’re annoyed, and looked down at the sand as if it had the answers.

He paused, then looked up at you, his eyes full of something vulnerable, raw, and honest. “But I’ll get there. One day.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just… not yet.”

You nodded slowly, not saying anything at first. You looked down, watching the way your feet pressed into the sand, how your steps left soft imprints that trailed behind. You understood. Completely. And more importantly, you respected it.

Your silence wasn’t judgment, it was empathy. And as the two of you walked on, bathed in moonlight and ocean air, it was clear that even unspoken things had a way of being heard between you.

Bob walked you back to your cabin, the two of you moving a little slower than before, as if neither of you truly wanted the night to end. When you reached the steps, there was that moment, an awkward little giggle shared between you as your eyes both dropped to the ground, trying to avoid the tension hanging in the air. But it was there, unspoken and electric. You felt it in your chest, and judging by the way Bob was fiddling with his fingers and nervously rocking on his heels, he did too.

Maybe it was the rum still lingering in your system, or maybe it was the feeling of confidence bubbling up from the hours of honest conversation and gentle laughter. Either way, you found yourself standing a little taller, just bold enough to speak your mind.

“I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of,” you said, your voice soft but sure, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him. Bob lifted his gaze, eyes wide with something between surprise and fragile hope, like a puppy waiting to be told it’s a good boy.

“I think you have a beautiful body,” you added gently.

The moment the words landed, his eyes locked with yours, and the connection was intense. Warm. Heavy. It hung in the air between you like a string pulled tight.

You could see it in his face that he felt it too. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then his nervousness took over again. He let out a small, breathy laugh, looked to the side, and scratched the back of his head. His cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red, and his voice came out unsure and stammered.

“You too… you have a nice body. Not like—in a creepy way or anything! Just, uh… like, you know…”

He was tangling himself in his own compliment, flailing to land it gracefully, and it made your heart melt just a little more. Smiling softly, you lifted both hands in a surrendering gesture, giving a single nod with a calming expression.

“I get it,” you assured him gently. “Thank you.”

Relief washed over his face, and both of you started to laugh again, this time more naturally, more connected. The night felt sweet, even a little magical. You didn’t want to go inside. You didn’t want this to be the part where he left, where things faded into goodnights and what-ifs.

Something in you, maybe the remnants of courage, maybe the warmth still blooming from that last drink, refused to let him go. So, you decided to take a risk. A brave one.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words came out direct, sincere, without apology or hesitation. They hit Bob like a thunderclap. His eyes went wide and fractured with shock. You could see his heart stop and start again just by the way his chest moved. Goosebumps appeared along his arms, his breath caught in his throat, and his entire face flushed deeper than ever before.

“I-I… I mean—I… um,” he stumbled, blinking rapidly, completely overwhelmed.

You didn’t push, but you did move closer, stepping into the space between you, your hands slowly, carefully, rising to his chest. You placed them there gently, barely a touch, more of a whisper than a grip, and you could feel his heartbeat fluttering beneath your fingertips, pounding like a wild drum. The moment you touched him, he froze. His whole body stiffened, eyes locked on you, his lips slightly parted in stunned silence.

You tilted your head up, catching his gaze with a bold, flirtatious glint in your eye. Then you bit your lip, slowly and deliberately, giving him that look—the kind that stripped away all doubt.

“May I?” you whispered again, your voice lower, breathier, your fingertips brushing against his shirt as your palms moved slightly over his chest.

He inhaled sharply, the sound trembling through his lips, and after a second that felt like forever, he nodded—quickly, wordlessly, his entire body trembling with anticipation.

A sly, satisfied smile crept onto your face at his permission. You rose onto your toes as he instinctively leaned down to meet you halfway. And when your lips finally met his, it was as though the world simply fell away.

The background noise, the wind, the waves, the sound of cicadas, melted into silence. There was only warmth, only him.

His lips were soft, tinged with sweetness from the drinks you’d shared, and you felt a wave of heat roll through your body.

At first, he kissed you carefully, cautiously, almost as if he wasn’t sure if this was real. But the moment you leaned in hungrily for another kiss, something shifted in him, he melted into you completely.

Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him in closer, anchoring him to you. He responded instinctively, his hands finding your waist with gentle hesitance, holding you like you were delicate and precious, like the wrong touch might break the spell. His fingers traced small circles against your back, sliding slightly higher as he began to kiss you deeper, more surely.

And then you started to sigh—soft, involuntary little sounds escaping your lips, muffled between kisses. That was it. That was all it took to make Bob shudder slightly against you, his grip tightening just a little as he buried himself more completely in the moment.

For a man so shy, so careful with his words, his body was now telling you everything you needed to know. Your lips danced together under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies.

The kiss between you and Bob deepened quickly, the heat building with every brush of lips, every inhale that seemed too sharp, too needy.

Bob began to let out these quiet, helpless little moans—soft, desperate sounds that made your heart stutter and your core clench with hunger. His breath was hot, uneven, as if he couldn’t quite keep up with what he was feeling.

But then, just when things began to slip into something hotter, more dangerous, you pulled away.

Your lips left his with a quiet, breathy pop, and Bob’s eyes fluttered open in confusion, his brows furrowing as you took a small step back. You reached into your bag, rummaging clumsily, fingers searching for your keys. His expression was adorably baffled—eyes wide, lips parted, his chest still rising and falling too fast.

He didn’t even get the chance to ask what you were doing. Before he could speak, you found the keys, turned, and unlocked the door with a soft grunt of effort. The handle resisted for a moment—just long enough to make you curse under your breath. But then it gave way, and without a word, you grabbed a handful of Bob’s shirt and yanked him inside with you.

The door slammed shut behind you.

And then you were on him again.

You pushed him up against the wall before he could even blink, your lips crashing onto his like you’d been starved of him for hours instead of minutes. He let out a muffled gasp, taken completely off guard, but your mouth, your touch, the fire burning through you, it overwhelmed him. It shut off whatever part of his brain had been trying to stay grounded.

He melted into you, hands clinging to your waist like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. But you weren’t slowing down.

You pressed your body hard against his, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, pinning him to the wall with a surprising strength, despite your smaller frame. Your kiss was ravenous, unrelenting. Every time his breath hitched, it only drove you more.

But Bob still had some part of him trying to be responsible.

“Wait—wait, what about the others?” he asked, panting between kisses, his voice shaky, his lips still brushing yours. His hands remained at your hips, uncertain but not resisting.

“They’re asleep,” you breathed without hesitation, already leaning in again.

You kissed him hard, and he let out a startled noise in the back of his throat, half protest, half surrender. But just as your hands started trailing lower down his sides, he gently pulled back again, his eyes wide, his whole body trembling like he was barely holding on.

“I-I mean, I—” he stammered, clearly overwhelmed, caught in the tug-of-war between nerves and need.

But you were on fire. Every pulse in your body throbbed with want, and the heat between your thighs was unmistakable, impossible to ignore. You leaned in closer, placing a hand flat against his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. Your eyes locked on his and your voice dropped into something sultry, something that made his breath hitch.

“Do you want me?” you whispered, your words low, teasing, soaked in longing.

Bob’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He was frozen, wide-eyed, staring at you like you were made of fire and he couldn’t decide whether to run or let himself burn.

So you stepped in closer. Your bodies were touching now, pressed chest to chest, and your mouth hovered barely a breath from his. You tilted your head, eyes fluttering half-shut, your voice dipping into a softer, flirtier murmur.

“Do you want me, Bob?”

This time he nodded. Hard. His breath caught in his throat, and a deep, shaky sound escaped him. His hands clutched tighter at your waist like he was afraid you might vanish.

Then you gave him the final push—the one that made everything else fall away.

“Do you want me… right now?”

His answer wasn’t words. It was a low, desperate sound from deep in his chest and another frantic nod, his eyes burning with need. That was all the answer you needed. All the answer he could give.

And then your lips were on his again, fiercer this time, hungry and hot, and whatever doubts had been in his head melted away with each breathless kiss.

But the kisses between you and Bob grew messier, deeper, more desperate. There was no longer any hesitation, only raw, breathless need. Soft, pleading moans slipped from both your lips between every frantic brush of your mouths, and each sound only made the other crave more.

Bob’s hands fumbled at your waist, your neck, your hips, trying to be everywhere at once but still so careful. His swim trunks were starting to grow tight again, and the heat in your own body was unbearable. Your swimsuit clung to you, soaked through with arousal, even tho all you had done was kiss.

Stumbling into your room was chaotic, clumsy. Bob bumped into the wall, you tripped on your own feet, giggles and gasps filling the space between frantic kisses. But somehow, with limbs tangled and hearts racing, you made it to your room. You barely managed to shut the door behind you before dragging both of you toward the bed.

With one firm but gentle push, you toppled Bob onto the mattress and let yourself fall with him. You landed on his chest with a bounce, both of you breathless and grinning, and then, before he could even process it, you rolled off and stood quickly. You turned back toward the door, locking it with a soft click. Then, you turned around again and froze for a beat.

Bob was sitting at the edge of your bed, completely still, his chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. His hair was messy from your fingers, his lips red and swollen from your kisses and his eyes were glassy with lust, with longing. His pupils were huge. His face was flushed. And lower down, his erection was unmistakably visible.

You had never felt like this about any man before. Not like this.

You let your purse fall to the floor without a second thought, fingers slipping under the hem of your fishnet dress. With a slow, deliberate tug, you pulled it up and over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor.

Now, standing there in only your swimsuit, you began to approach him. Slowly, like a predator circling prey. The hunger in your eyes was impossible to miss.

Bob didn’t move. He couldn’t. He watched you the entire time, mouth slightly open, hands resting on the bed like he needed the mattress to ground himself.

You stopped in front of him and brought your hands up to cup his face, leaning in to kiss him again—but this time it was slower. Gentler. A soft, intimate prelude.

His hands found your cheeks too, fingers stroking your skin, and he tried to pull you back down onto him. But you resisted. You pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Can we… get rid of this?” you asked with a playful smile, tapping a finger against the center of his chest.

His eyes dropped to your finger, then flicked back up to your face. He swallowed hard, clearly nervous.

“We don’t have to,” you whispered, your tone low and teasing. “But how about a deal?”

You licked your lips slowly, letting your gaze drop to his mouth before lifting it back to his eyes.

“If we take this off,” you said, finger still resting on his chest, “then we also take this off…” Your hand drifted up, motioning briefly toward the top of your swimsuit.

That was all it took.

Whatever fear had still lingered in him melted away instantly. His fingers gripped the hem of his shirt and, without a single pause, he pulled it over his head in one swift, fluid movement and tossed it aside. No hesitation. No second-guessing. He wanted this. He wanted you. Badly enough to show you a part of himself he’d just admitted he was ashamed of.

But the moment your eyes dropped to his now bare torso… your jaw practically hit the floor.

He was stunning. Broad chest, strong shoulders, abs like something sculpted by a god, toned arms with just the right amount of muscle, exactly how you liked it. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. Not from someone as shy and self-conscious as him.

You looked back up at him, wide-eyed with a mix of disbelief and awe. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Bob sat there, half-nervous, half-burning, unsure how you’d react—until he saw your expression. And even though your reaction was silent, it told him everything. The look on your face said it all.

You knelt down slowly, your eyes still locked onto his body as if mesmerized, and began showering him with a cascade of kisses. They rained down over his skin, his chest, his stomach, his sides, each kiss playful, some lingering, others accompanied by soft, teasing licks or the occasional gentle bite.

It tickled him a little, making him laugh under his breath, his abs tightening instinctively. He wanted to reach out, to touch your hair, cradle your face, pull you close—but he hesitated. He didn’t want to startle you, didn’t want to break the moment or push too far. So he kept his hands behind him, gripping the mattress like an anchor.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured in between kisses, your lips brushing against his skin with every word. Your hands rested firmly on his thighs, fingers splayed out, grounding yourself as you explored him with both touch and mouth.

“So beautiful,” you repeated, almost breathless with admiration. You couldn’t get enough of him. You kissed every inch of skin you could reach, tasting the warmth of his sun-kissed body, losing yourself in the way he squirmed slightly beneath your lips.

Eventually, the hunger in you built beyond just kisses.

You looked up at Bob, meeting his eyes. He looked dazed, utterly blissed out, but beneath the surface, there was something else. He was waiting. For your part of the deal.

A mischievous smile curled on your lips.

Still on your knees, you slowly straightened up and reached behind your back, fingers deftly untying the knot of your bikini top. With a small motion, you let it slip off your shoulders, revealing your bare breasts to him.

Bob’s jaw literally dropped. His eyes widened and locked on you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hands dug into the mattress, and through his swim trunks, you could see the very visible twitch of his hard-on as it reacted to the sight.

He wanted to touch you so badly. You could see it. The craving in his eyes. But he still held back, being a gentleman, respecting your pace, refusing to make a move without permission.

“Wanna touch?” you asked, tilting your head and giving him a knowing smirk.

His face lit up like you’d just handed him the keys to heaven. He nodded eagerly, licking his lips, his hands already twitching to move. He slowly reached out but paused again, eyes flicking to yours, searching for that last bit of reassurance.

You gave him a small nod.

And then he touched you.

Gently, reverently, like you were something sacred. His hands cupped your breasts with a mixture of awe and need, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. His touch was warm, tender—curious yet careful.

He didn’t grope. He explored. Played. Worshipped. One hand cradled the underside while the other traced slow circles around your nipple, sending delicious shivers down your spine. He was in heaven, and judging by the way his breath caught every time you so much as sighed, he wanted you to feel that same bliss too.

Bob looked up at you, his hands still cradling your breasts as if he were holding something fragile and precious. Then his gaze flicked to your face, a bit hesitant.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, voice low and tender.

You smiled, nodding, and that smile alone seemed to ease something in him. You weren’t just okay—you were glowing. It felt good, the way his fingers explored you with such care, and the look in his eyes made it all the more intense.

And it definitely did something to him. You could tell from the way his chest rose with every breath, how his eyes occasionally fluttered shut like he was overwhelmed. Still, after a moment, he pulled his hands away, clearly not wanting to get too carried away without your lead.

You leaned in again and kissed him.

It was slower, deeper. Your hands roamed his body, savoring the shape of him, the tension in his muscles, the way he melted under your touch. His hands were verywhere. Moving over your back, your hips, your sides, as if trying to memorize every inch of your body.

But you remained on your knees, just slightly lower than him, even as the kiss grew hotter.

Then one of your hands started to travel—leaving his neck, gliding down over his chest, his stomach, until it reached the waistband of his swim trunks. You paused there. Not moving or rushing. You stopped kissing him and looked up at his face.

Bob’s eyes followed your hand, then quickly returned to yours. There was a storm behind those eyes—desire, definitely, but also uncertainty.

You gave him a slow, sultry smile, tilting your head ever so slightly as if to say, It’s okay. I want this too. He exhaled shakily, his lips parting, and after a moment, he nodded.

With the same care he’d shown you earlier, you hooked your fingers into the waistband and began to pull them down. Painfully slow. Your eyes never left his face, watching his expression shift—excitement, nervousness, and that unmistakable tension of anticipation.

As the fabric slid down his thighs and hit the ground, your breath caught audibly. You gasped so loud that even Bob flinched a little, startled. You hadn’t expected… that.

There it was—thick, veined, heavy, and already so hard it twitched in the cool air. The way it stood against his toned stomach, pulsing gently, made your pulse echo right along with it.

You couldn’t help but whisper in disbelief, “And you’ve been hiding this the whole time?”

Bob let out an awkward little laugh, clearly flustered. His cheeks flushed deep red, not just from arousal, but from your stunned compliment. He looked away for a second, bashful, and mumbled something incoherent.

Carefully, you reached out and brushed your fingers against him. The moment your skin made contact, his body jolted, just a little, and he let out the softest whimper, almost a sigh.

You looked up again, eyes wide and a little wicked, and bit your bottom lip.

Slowly, your hand began to move, gentle at first, as though you were still getting to know this part of him. He trembled beneath your touch, trying to stay quiet, but his hips shifted involuntarily, betraying how sensitive he was.

His hand gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles pale. He was trying so hard not to make a sound—to keep still so he wouldn’t wake the girls in the next room—but you weren’t making that easy.

The pressure, the rhythm… it was enough to undo him. But then, before he could fully process what was happening, you leaned forward and kissed the tip. Bob let out a strangled sound and tensed, as if his whole body was about to short-circuit.

You looked up at him, holding eye contact the entire time. At first, you were teasing—pressing soft kisses to the sensitive head, letting your tongue glide around it lazily, deliberately. His thighs trembled. He bit down on his lip so hard it turned white.

Then you got more serious.

You took him in slowly, still holding his gaze. Bob’s lips parted, his eyes fluttering half-shut, and a shaky breath escaped him like it had been trapped in his chest for hours. His entire body tensed as if overwhelmed by the sensation.

He tried to stay quiet, tried to keep his hips still, but sometimes his body moved on its own, bucking up just slightly, and he immediately muttered a breathless apology every time it happened.

You didn’t rush. You let the anticipation burn slowly, letting him feel everything.

“God—” he whispered under his breath, hips twitching slightly, and then—“I’m sorry,” he added instantly, as if ashamed of reacting too strongly. You didn’t mind. In fact, it made your heart race.

The way he melted for you, how his body surrendered so easily, he wasn’t trying to be dominant or in control. He wasn’t trying to hide how much it affected him. And that vulnerability? It was intoxicating.

You could hear how much it meant to him in every breathy sound, every shaky exhale, every stifled moan. He whimpered again, high and desperate, and the sound echoed in your mind like a reward.

His fingers were digging into the mattress, every muscle tight with restraint. He whimpered again, soft and broken, and your innocent gaze stayed locked on his, only intensifying everything he felt.

Then slowly, deliberately, you reached up and took his hand—guiding it to your head. He hesitated at first, breath shaky, eyes wide with uncertainty. But you gave him a sweet calm look that said it’s okay. That you trusted him. That he could touch.

His hand accidentally tangled in your hair, gripping a bit too tight, and when he realized, he gasped and immediately loosened his fingers.

“Shit—I’m sorry—are you okay?” he stammered, guilt flashing in his eyes.

You looked up at him again, lips still wrapped around him, and gave the tiniest nod, reassuring him you were fine. More than fine. You loved seeing him like this. Raw, undone, his tough exterior peeling away one soft moan at a time.

And it hit you, too. That fluttering heat in your chest. That ache between your legs. The feeling of being wanted this much. Of making someone feel this good. His reactions lit a fire inside you. Every twitch of his thighs, every tremor in his voice—it all made you feel powerful and delicate at the same time.

Bob’s hands were restless now. One gripped the sheets, the other hovered near your head again, as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch. You leaned into it, and he gently threaded his fingers through your hair, this time softer, more reverent. But his voice was breaking. Little, helpless gasps.

Whispers of your name.

And once or twice—a shaky, choked-off moan that sounded like he might cry if you kept going. But you didn’t stop. Not yet.

Because the way he trembled under you, the way his stomach clenched and his legs shifted, the way he sounded like he was falling apart, that was everything.

Bob was right on the edge, his whole body was trembling, his hands clenching the sheets like he was holding on for dear life. And when he finally came, gasping your name like a whispered prayer, you didn’t pull away.

You stayed with him. Took everything he gave you.

He let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan, overwhelmed beyond words, his hips twitching from overstimulation as you gently helped him through the last waves. You even cleaned the rest of him up with soft, careful kisses, and that alone nearly made him whimper again.

“Jesus…” he breathed out, barely able to speak, a hand running through his tousled hair as he looked down at you with wide, dazed eyes. “I– I’m sorry.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprised. “What for?”

His voice was small. Fragile. “For… everything? For that being too fast? For—” he swallowed, looking embarrassed, “—for not lasting longer. I didn’t mean to be so…”

You climbed up to him and silenced him with a kiss. Not hurried, not demanding, just soft. Tender. Full of comfort.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking his flushed skin.

“You don’t have to apologize for feeling good,” you whispered against his lips. “That was perfect.”

His eyes closed, his breath catching. He looked like he might cry for a whole different reason now.

You gently straddled his waist, not quite there yet, but close enough that the shift in energy was obvious. Your thighs pressing lightly against his sides, his hands flew instinctively to your hips. Not in a needy grip, but gentle, hesitant. Your body was warm and ready, and you were preparing to fully connect, but before you could guide him further, Bob stopped you.

“Wait,” he whispered, voice still hoarse.

You paused, blinking down at him, your brows gently furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes met yours, and something was different. The nervousness that had clouded his gaze earlier was gone. What replaced it was soft but firm, confidence built not from ego, but devotion.

“I want to take care of you now,” he said.

A small smile curved your lips, your heart skipping a beat at how genuine he sounded. “You don’t have to, really—”

But Bob shook his head. “No. I want to. I need to.”

There was something so deeply sincere in his voice it made your chest ache.

You gave him a soft nod, and he smiled, one of those rare, crooked, bashful smiles that melted you inside. Then, with gentle hands, he shifted you. Slowly, carefully, he rolled your body so you lay on your back in the center of the bed, like he was positioning you at the heart of a sacred space. His arms hovered around you, cradling your movement so you never felt dropped, never out of control.

He knelt between your legs, just watching you for a moment. You were laid out beneath him, chest rising and falling, hair fanned out across the pillow. He looked awestruck.

His hand came to your side. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, lips parted, your voice caught somewhere between breath and heartbeat. “Yes.”

His hand slid up along your ribcage, following the natural shape of you with reverence. He wasn’t just touching—he was memorizing. Like every inch of your skin mattered. Like you were art.

He kissed you again, slow, coaxing, warm. And as the kiss deepened, he murmured against your lips: “Can I take these off?”

His fingers were resting lightly at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms.

You nodded. “Please.”

Bob peeled the fabric down slowly, as if every inch was a treasure to be revealed, not a secret to be rushed. His eyes never left your body, and his hands trembled just a little.

Once the swimsuit was off, he let his fingers trace lightly along your inner thighs, but never without looking up at you first.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath brushing over your bare skin.

You nodded again, heart pounding. “Yes.”

And then he lowered his mouth to you.

The moment his lips met your most sensitive spot, your whole body arched. But it wasn’t just the touch—it was the tenderness, the intention. Bob wasn’t careless or clumsy. He listened. He adjusted every motion based on how you sighed, how your breath caught, how your fingers curled in the sheets.

His movements were soft, exploring. He let his tongue move in long, unhurried strokes, drawing out your reactions—your sighs, your tiny gasps, the way your fingers curled into the sheets. You felt your body start to unravel under the attention, your hips shifting instinctively, needing more.

His hands held your thighs, steadying you but never trapping you. He let you move against him. Let you guide him with nothing more than the sound of your breath. His tongue moved slow, experimental, reverent. And as he began to read your body, he grew more confident.

Every flick, every gentle suck, was delivered with the knowledge that he was giving you pleasure, not taking it. He wasn’t doing this to prove something. He was doing it because he wanted to worship you.

“God, Bob…” you whispered, voice cracking as your fingers found his hair.

He hummed at the sound, and the vibration sent another shiver racing through you.

He learned quickly. How you liked it slower, how a certain flick of his tongue made your whole body twitch. How your voice caught every time he sucked softly at just the right spot.

“Yes… yes—so good,” you breathed, your hips moving almost without permission.

The way he reacted to your pleasure, how eager he was to see you fall apart, made everything more intense. He was moaning softly too, like just tasting you made him dizzy with need. He liked knowing you wanted him there. That you trusted him there. He never once looked away from you, not even when he grew bolder, more confident.

He explored every inch of you with his mouth like you were something to be adored, not conquered. And every sound you made, every shiver in your body, only spurred him on.

Your breath started to catch, your thighs tightening around his shoulders as the pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter. He felt it. Saw it. Knew it.

And he didn’t let up.

His hands squeezed your hips gently, anchoring you as he focused entirely on giving you what you needed. He stayed right there, lips and tongue working with delicious rhythm, sending shockwaves through you with every stroke.

You were close. So close it scared you.

“Bob,” you gasped, voice breaking. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even hesitate. He wanted this for you.

The wave crashed over you so suddenly, so completely, it stole the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you came—shaking, pulsing, everything unraveling under his touch.

Bob held you through it. Never pulling away, never letting you feel alone. Even as you trembled and gasped and whimpered his name, he stayed with you, riding the waves with the same quiet patience he always gave you.

And only when your body finally relaxed, chest heaving and limbs limp, did he slowly lift his head.

His mouth was glistening, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and shining. And when he saw you looking at him, completely undone and breathless, he smiled the softest smile you’d ever seen.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing along your thigh. You nodded, dazed and glowing, trying to catch your breath.

Bob slowly crawled back up your body, leaving a warm trail of kisses across your skin. He moved as if afraid to disturb the peace settling over you, like he was returning to you from a place of worship. When his face hovered above yours, he looked into your eyes for a long, quiet moment.

Then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

His hand came up to your hair, brushing it back with slow fingers, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Your heart squeezed.

You reached up to cup his face and pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss—sweet at first, but quickly deepening. The electricity between you hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger now that there was nothing between you but skin and trust.

Still breathless, you moved, shifting your hips just enough to push him onto his back. He let out a surprised little laugh as you rolled with him, your bodies twisting together until you were on top of him, straddling his hips. The heat between you flared instantly.

He looked up at you with wide, reverent eyes, his hands resting gently on your waist as if asking silently for permission to hold you there.

You leaned down and kissed him again—slow, deep, melting into each other with every heartbeat. Your fingers ran along his chest, down his sides, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his body. You could feel him against you, hard and throbbing, and it sent shivers down your spine.

This was it. The moment you’d both been tiptoeing toward.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Are you ready?” you whispered.

Bob nodded, cheeks flushed, his eyes glassy with emotion. “Only if you are.”

“I am,” you said softly, and meant every word.

Your hand found him again, guiding him with care, your breath hitching as the tip pressed against you. You moved slowly, lowering yourself with a careful rhythm, taking him in inch by inch. Both of you gasped—Bob’s hands gripped your hips tightly, trying not to buck up into you.

The stretch made your whole body burn, but it was a sweet, full ache, one that had been building from the first time he looked at you like you were the sun.

Once he was fully inside, you stilled, letting your body adjust, both of you panting softly. Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his jaw clenched, as if overwhelmed by how deep it all felt—emotionally and physically.

“You okay?” he asked, breathless, voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, your hands braced against his chest, your body trembling slightly. “You feel… amazing.”

A shaky laugh left his throat. “So do you. God, so do you.”

You started to move—slow, steady, your bodies learning each other. Every thrust, every sigh, every soft gasp between kisses told its own story. It wasn’t just sex. It was connection. It was trust. It was two people baring everything, souls and skin, just to be close.

You moved together in perfect rhythm, hips rising and falling in sync, his hands mapping your body like he never wanted to forget a single inch. And with every moan, every whispered name, every breath you shared, love wrapped tighter and tighter around you both.

Your rhythm picked up—slow and deep giving way to something needier, hungrier. The friction between your bodies grew more intense, breaths turning to gasps, gasps to moans. The sounds of skin against skin, the creaking of the mattress beneath you, the soft rustle of sheets, it all blended into a symphony of desire that filled the space around you like firelight.

Bob’s hands roamed your back, your hips, your thighs—desperate to hold you, ground you, memorize you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were glowing. You were everything.

And then he sat up, his arms wrapping around you as you stayed straddled on his lap. Your chest pressed tightly against his, your lips meeting his in a fevered kiss. He held you there, anchored you to him like he was terrified of letting you go.

You clung to him just as tightly.

Your mouths moved together like you were breathing the same air. His tongue tangled with yours, his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you even closer. But then his grip on your waist tightened.

Hard.

You gasped softly at the pressure, your hips pausing. You pulled back just slightly, your forehead still resting against his, trying to catch your breath. And that’s when you saw it.

For a split second, just a flash, his eyes glowed. Golden. Not metaphorically, a actually glowing. And then it was gone. Blink, and you might’ve thought you imagined it. But you didn’t.

Bob froze. His arms loosened immediately, and panic flooded his face. “Shit—did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I just—”

“Hey,” you said gently, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He was breathing fast, his brows drawn tight, clearly shaken by the moment. “I felt something… I didn’t mean to grip you that hard.”

You nodded slowly. “It's okay.”

He winced. “I- I'm sorry, I don’t want to scare you, or—God—I don’t want to lose control around you.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his again. “You didn’t scare me, Bob. You trusting me with that… it means more than I can say.”

His breath hitched and before he could say anything else, you kissed him again, before guiding his hands back to your waist. This time, his grip was steady. Gentle. Confident.

And then you moved again.

The pleasure hit like a wave crashing into shore, harder than before, deeper. His hands gripped you tighter, not in fear this time, but in raw need, in love, in reverence.

You kissed his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, whispering his name like a prayer.

You rocked against him, and he met every motion, your bodies tangled in something that went beyond skin and muscle, it was soul-deep. The sounds coming from him, breathy moans, quiet whimpers, your name, drove you wild.

And then it happened. You felt your climax building again, hot and fast and unstoppable.

“Bob,” you gasped, nails digging gently into his back.

He was right there with you, sweat beading at his brow, jaw tight, voice strained. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you breathed.

You crashed into release together—messy, overwhelming. You held each other through it, limbs trembling, lips finding each other again and again, clinging to the moment like it was all you’d ever need.

You collapsed against his chest, your limbs heavy and warm, your cheek pressing into the sweat-slick skin of his shoulder. Both of you were still catching your breath, chests rising and falling rapidly in sync. His arms wrapped around you protectively, and you let yourself sink into him, feeling completely safe and full.

There was a moment of perfect silence, just the sound of breathing, soft and human and real.

Then you shifted slightly, curling up beside him and resting your head against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, still racing, but slowly calming beneath your ear.

You smiled lazily. “Okay… serious question.”

Bob tilted his head to look at you, already smiling like a complete goof. “Shoot.”

You looked up at him with narrowed, mock-suspicious eyes. “Where did you learn to do that with your tongue?”

Immediately, Bob’s face flushed. He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked. “I—uh—I watched a couple things.”

You squinted. “What kind of ‘things,’ Bob?”

He swallowed hard. “Just like—like, y’know. Tutorials.”

You pulled back, eyebrows rising. “You watched porn?!”

Bob’s entire face turned bright red. “No! I mean—it was educational! There were diagrams!”

You blinked. “There were diagrams in your porn?”

He let out a strangled sound and covered his face with his hands. “Okay, I regret everything.”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet room. “Bob Reynolds, you little nerd.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, totally mortified but smiling. “I just wanted to be good at it. For you.”

You leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “You were.”

A comfortable silence settled over you again, warm and soft like a blanket. You traced idle shapes on his chest with your fingertips, still smiling, still glowing.

Then Bob’s voice broke the quiet, a little more cautious this time. “Hey… do you… remember the volleyball game? When I kinda bailed and told you not to come?”

You glanced up at him. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. “Well… I sorta… had a situation. In my swim trunks.” He exhaled, long and painful.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “You got a boner?!”

Bob winced, covering his face again. “I’m sorry! It just—happened! You were in that swimsuit and laughing and I don’t know, my brain just… betrayed me!”

You were quiet for a moment. Not judging. Not laughing. Just watching him squirm. Then you reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Bob.”

He looked at you through his fingers again, completely sheepish.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That’s totally normal.”

His eyes widened a little. “It is?”

You nodded. “Yeah…and honestly, kind of sweet.“ You smiled teasingly. He laughed, relieved, and pulled you close again, resting his chin on top of your head. “God, I like you so much.”

You nestled into him, your fingers laced together on his chest. “Good. Because I really, really like you back.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, tangled together, breathing slower now, hearts lighter. The night was quiet, soft, and full of something that felt a lot like the start of forever.

The golden morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, dancing lazily over tangled limbs and a rumpled blanket. You and Bob were still wrapped around each other—bare skin against bare skin, your head on his chest, his arm draped protectively over you. Your legs tangled, breaths slow, hearts steady.

A knock. Sharp. Three times.

“Hey, you coming to breakfast or are you dead?” Yelena’s voice chirped from behind the door.

Your eyes snapped open in panic. You bolted upright under the blanket, your heart immediately in your throat. Bob groaned quietly, still groggy, eyes not fully open yet.

You whispered, “What time is it?!” your voice barely audible and full of dread.

Bob blinked, looked around helplessly, and shrugged. “I—uh… no clue.”

You covered your face with both hands. “We’re dead. We’re actually dead.”

Yelena knocked again, softer this time. “We're going now, just letting you know.”

You scrambled to respond, “Yeah! I’ll be there! In a sec!”

Bob turned to you, now slowly realizing the situation. The blanket slid down his chest, revealing faint marks from your mouth the night before.

You stared at him. “We need to get dressed. Now.”

It was mayhem. You both jumped out of bed, frantically looking for clothes. You grabbed your swimsuit top, which had ended up halfway across the room, and pulled on a hoodie over it. Bob, on the other hand, was still stumbling, holding only his swim trunks in one hand, his shirt nowhere to be found.

“You can’t go out the door!” you hissed. “Someone could see you!”

“Then what do I do?!”

You gestured to the window. “Jump out.”

“Are you serious?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Bob. You’re a superhero. I think you can survive this.”

He groaned dramatically, pulled on his swim trunks and shirt, then paused before the window. You rushed over, stood on your tiptoes, and gave him a rushed, smiling kiss. “Go. Before someone sees you.”

He opened the window, one leg already out, then looked back with a crooked grin. “You’re chaos.”

You grinned. “You love it.”

With that, he slipped out and disappeared into the early morning light.

Later that morning, everyone gathered at a nearby rustic café for breakfast. You sat at a corner table, sipping coffee, trying not to look suspicious. Yelena sat beside you. Bob was diagonally across, seated next to John. The chatter around the table was casual—about the lake, someone’s forgotten towel, who burned marshmallows last night.

You and Bob exchanged occasional, brief glances. Not long. Just enough to pass a message between you. A silent, thrilling electricity. You could still feel the echo of last night under your skin, and judging by the way Bob nervously rubbed the back of his neck, so could he.

“Dude…” John leaned closer to Bob, squinting. “What the hell happened to your neck?”

Bob blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve got like, bruises or something. All over here.” He pointed.

Bob’s brows furrowed and instinctively reached for the spot. “What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head, clearly unaware. Your fork froze mid-air. You looked straight down at your plate. Yelena turned to you. Her eyes widened slowly. Then, lips barely moving, she mouthed with a dramatic grin:

“You. Fucked. Bob.”

You nearly inhaled your scrambled eggs. Your face heated like wildfire. You avoided everyone’s eyes, especially Bob’s. Meanwhile, Bob was trying to deflect. “Maybe I slept weird or—uh—bug bites?”

“Mmhmm,” John muttered, unconvinced.

You dared a glance at Bob. And that was it—your eyes met, and he knew. His brows lifted just slightly. His lips parted. You both quickly looked away.

Yelena leaned into closer to you and whispered, “I knew it. I heard really weird noises last night.” “Yelena, shut up.” She just chuckled into her cup of tea.

As the conversation drifted elsewhere, your face still radiated heat. Across the table, Bob leaned his elbow against the table and rested his cheek on his hand, sneaking one last look at you. You caught it—and gave him the tiniest smile.

This week was going to be… very interesting.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

HAVE A LOVELY DAY,

BYEEE📙🦋

[grotesquevi]

misc. smut prompt #24 with ellie😝😘

cw   #  18+ mdni, academic rivals, fingering, dirty talk, loser sub!ellie, choking. as usual, this comes with a music rec. this is an special celebration as i just reached 1k followers! feel free to look at the prompt list i'll be working with to get some drabbles out and send a max of 2 numbers + a character to my ask if you want to join! wc: 1.8k they will be smaller than this also. i got heavily carried away. what the hell.

“can you stop being a damn pervert for five seconds of your life?” oh man. ellie shouldn't be enjoying this so much. shouldn't be so entertained by the scrunch your nose gives when talking to her, standing tall and ready to punch her in the nose if necessary "i can see you staring at my tits. quit being annoying."

"we are sharing a cig of peace, psycho" she dares to lie for a moment, turning away to light up the stick between her lips for a second, the smoke filling the air as she exhales — "i'm not staring at your tits."

"why did you drag me here anyway?" you inquire already losing your patience "i can barely hear the music and i'm sure jesse wont like the fact we're smoking in his room."

ellie cant help it anyway, when she's blowing the smoke to your face and you sigh pissed. of course you're acting like a prick: she took the #1 spot in most of your classes, become the favorite of the teachers taking away your spot even when you actually sacrifice a lot to have the attention you have only for her to be what? barely moving a finger to say something incredibly intelligent? fucking cunt.

"jesus. i brought you here to offer a deal, one that could benefit you if you listen for once" ellie swears she can see the tension, rigid muscles even when she's giving you the cigarette and you doubt for a second to accept it: is she capable of poison it? yes. but she's far from doing that to you—. "i was thinking of letting you be the first of the class again."

"you what?"

"yeah" to be sincere. ellie williams doesn't give two shits about being the best of the class, it's a title she's not that interested in carrying, and while you smoke, she also knows about the fact she's biased cause you're so pretty it hurts to see the hate on your face every time you look down her way. how you're able to be so actively avoiding her like she has done something awful, something more than just academic reasons. "i don't care about having the best grades. i can be mistaken in a couple of answers on the next tests and you'll be back in the game."

"and what do you want in return?"

"nothing."

"nothing? you can't be serious."

"yes," she thinks about it for a second before her impulses take over, ellie will regret this later after three more beers. "i won't make you sleep with me if that's what you're wondering."

"and why not?"

her breathing hitches on the back of her throat for a second, and she can't tell if you're being serious or if you're just messing with her — "are you asking me why i'm not blackmailing you with sex?"

"no, i'm asking if you want to sleep with me" you rephrase again hitting the jackpot, and as the silence settles in like a heavy blanket, it makes your rival stay silent for a minute or two before you're adding impatient as ever: "answer me. c'mon, i know you're quick to catch up."

"i just want you to stop giving me that look."

"which look?"

"you know. that look you give me every day in uni. when you're avoiding me at all costs. like there's no one you could hate more."

you try to think about an answer that's good enough to fight her accusations, but its impossible as you shut up and instead, smoke from the cigarette she gave you. the organic tobacco she rolled in an small paper in dead silence minutes before.

"i do hate you," you reply sincerely, "you're more intelligent than me. funnier. hotter. every one i've ever talked to fucking loves you, and it makes me hate you even more."

"i'm sorry."

"no i don't think you're sorry, ellie" now you're the one staring at her tits, at the half buttoned-tucked shirt, the necklace that gets lost inside right between a bra-less chest. she's using this black sleek pants and ellie can swear she can feel the holes your eyes make when taking in every part of her body, swallowing her slowly. "all of this outfit- is because you had an important test today?"

she doesn't realize you're that close at first, too late to say anything as she gulps down and nods—. "you mean for the suit? yes. needed a beer after all the stress."

"how did it go?” you’re so quick to reply, to keep the conversation going the way you want to. should be considered a damn talent cause it helps her brain take some time out when ellie’s feeling your hand in her legs, squeezing the flesh ever so slightly that she has to try so hard not to look at the contact there, burning. “bet you got an A since you’re a smart ass.”

"well, if i'm right, then i should be getting an A- while you can have the A+ next friday when it's your turn."

"you really thought about this a lot huh?"

"i did- sorry, are you trying to seduce me?" you seemed to forgot about the cigarette now consuming on the empty glass of water close to jesse's bed, makes ellie think about how she’s not blushing, why she sounds so confident even when you blatantly laugh at her face.

"you know what i hate even more about you?" your-so-long rival is currently lost in the color of your eyes, this damn t-shirt you're wearing that gives her such a nice view of your cleavage when she's fighting hard to keep her eyes focused on your face instead of your chest, have some decency for once — "how you got me all curious about you, without even noticing."

ellie's heart beats loudly in her ear, the sound making everything else fall into silence: you are flirting with her. and she let it happen cause she's amazed when your fingers tightens around her leg, squeezing the skin with a much more noticeable force and making her unsure for a second if thats you making a move, cause she's so into letting you have all of her.

of course it's a fucking move.

your lips are soft against hers, almost unsure if you should be more demanding until ellie's pushing you closer, parting her legs mid-way through the unexpected kiss as a silent invitation, as a way of almost saying she needs you taking more, over direct skin and not the layer of her jeans.

"yeah i am seducing you. i think its working just fine" you finally accepted, looking at her through those eyes she knows already from memory, that smile you always do when things go your way—. "would you finish opening up your legs f'me so i can finger you better?"

what amazes ellie even more than your question, is the blatant way she listens to you and actually do what you ask. when she's parting her legs wide open and her weight rests over the palm of her left hand when leaning backwards, and you seemed pleased as you're unzipping her pants, taking your shirt off cause you're kind enough to give her a nice view, something to ground her and bring the astronaut back to earth.

"is this okay?" she's erratic when nodding, as your hand toys with the waistband of her underwear — "you gonna tell me if it's too much, ells?"

"god, it's more than okay- i'll do anything you want me to," she cant help but choke when saying it, you're making her sweat in her cute suit. "anything at all. you just have to name it."

"good," you reply leaving soft kisses in the crook of her neck, not near enough to be marks, but yes to leave saliva glistening in the skin that slowly burned even hotter. "you just stay where you are and don't move. got you where i want you."

so your fingers graze against her underwear, soaked already it clings into her cunt, molding to your fingers. even from over a barrier of cotton, ellie swears she can feel the warmth of your fingertips go down her folds, pushing the underwear with a couple of digits until she can actually feel the roughness of it rubbing against the sensitive flesh, torturing her, driving her to a madness she craves to feel like a fever.

"oh fuck," ellie moans, her lips part unafraid of making some noises when the music's outside too loud to care, when she already locked the door from when she invited you to smoke a cigarette under the premise of having to talk. her hips rub on slow circles and suddenly she moving against your fingers, staining her black pants with her own arousal, "is this your way of making it up f'me? for making you number one again?"

"mhm," you're too concentrated to use your words when you're making her underwear to the side, cursing under your breath about how her cute outfit does nothing but get in the way, it makes ellie chuckle at your lack of patience even when she's already overwhelmed by your intoxicating touch as she holds you by the arm afraid you'll slip away.

"you've always been the number one" she manages to say when you're rubbing on her clit, when you're touching her as a reward she deserves more than ever — "you know that. you've always been the best."

she's feeding on your ego and it's so damn rewarding, so damn good. makes your skin shiver when ellie's riding your fingers, when the chain on around her neck catches your attention and you're using the jewelry to choke her, have total control and just enough force to wrap the silver around your fist there in your free hand and pull sufficient to make her gasp.

"what else?" you ask, drunk on her words "what else you've been keeping from me? you were salivating for me like this all semester?"

her cheeks finally acquire the most intense shade of red you've ever seen, spreading against her freckles, going down her neck, and you'd like to tease her about her reaction, make fun of her when she's so lame about you, so given to whatever you ask.

and ellie's puzzled at this point cause when she cums all over your hand? you've barely fucked her with a couple of fingers, stretching her cunt patiently as she does nothing more than whine until you came across that nice spot she loves, the very same that makes her body shake in not nearly enough minutes.

is she blushing at the lack of oxygen when you're choking her with the necklace she loves? or is it thanks to the force of the orgasm that got her all flustered and shy?

"did you just cum?" you ask almost not believing it, brows furrowed, still hungry for more "hell williams. get up. we're going again i'm not really done with you."

damn right you're number one, was there ever any doubt?

[samkerrworshipper]

young and in love

kyra cooney cross x reader

you and kyra have always been together.. just not together?

probably one of my less structured fics. basically i get stressed when i write fluff. i don’t love how it’s written but cbs rewriting so here we go. might cop some hate for the story line but if you have a issue keep it to yourself xo also aware that this is short(er) for me but i struggle so much with writing fluff. hopefully you guys enjoy <3

warnings: none? that i’m aware of.

You can’t really remember a time when you and Kyra weren’t together. You’ve been a pair for your whole life, from mothers group to kindergarten to school to the Matildas to Sweden and then to North London. It’s a thing, she’s like your third arm and you’re like her third leg. It’s always been that way, you don’t remember a time or day where you haven’t been side by side.

You never really think about it, you’ve never known otherwise. The two of you are one, in every way possible. It’s never been an issue, whenever a new club or contract has always come up you’ve always been a two in one deal, the Australian midfield and forward duo that never fail to tear up whatever opponents you face.

It’s never been defined but there’s an understanding with everybody around you that you and Kyra are simply you and Kyra.

You suppose that Harper is the first person to question it all. In the same innocent way that children seem to.

“Are you and Kywa going to get married like mummy and Klara one day?”

Harper is hanging off your neck, Kobe sitting a few feet away with a duplo block in his mouth. Kyra is in the room next door supposedly making dinner for the kids whilst Kat and Klara are out for their monthly date night.

“What makes you ask that, huh monkey?”

You reach onto your shoulders and pull Harper down, laying her down on the carpet before assaulting her with tickles all over her tummy.

“Mummy says that her and Rara are getting married because they love each other very much and they live together. She says that if people want to be married then they should love each other, you and auntie kyra love each other lots.”

You can’t really argue the toddlers point, she’s right, you and Kyra do love each other a lot.

“And you kiss when you think I’m not looking, and you make fun of each other like mummy and Rara and you wear her clothes.”

You’ve never thought about it in that way, Kyra and you have always just been together, not in any way besides that. It’s simple really, or at least that’s how it feels.

“Well someone’s an observant little girl aren’t they. Would you want me and Kyra to get married?”

The thought has never crossed your mind, not for you and Kyra at least. Although you wouldn’t say no to it either.

“Only if I get to carry the flowers like I am for Rara and mummy and I have to get a pretty dress.”

You think about it for a second, white dresses and suits, flowers, an aisle, all of it. It flashes through your head like a little move and then it stops. You and Kyra aren’t like that, you don’t know what you are but you aren’t that. Or at least you don’t want to get your hopes up about it.

“Oi, munchkins, dinner is served.”

Harper scrambles off of you, as if she hasn’t eaten in three months and bolts into the kitchen, leaving just you and Kobe.

“What do you think Mister, is your sister crazy?”

Kobe just gives you a gummy smile.

“I’m talking to a baby, aren’t I? Maybe I’m the crazy one.”

Your coos at Kobe manage to elicit a giggle from the baby as you swoop him up off the ground and carry him into the dining room.

You place him down in his highchair before trailing into the kitchen, finding Harper hanging onto Kyra’s legs as she tries to plate up their meal.

“It’s not burnt, that’s an improvement.”

Kyra drops her spatula to hit you.

“Hey, not cool. I don’t see you helping with feeding the monsters.”

You smirked and reached down to pick up Harper, bringing her up onto your hip to give Kyra a moment of peace.

“That’s because I take my job as chief monster wrangler very seriously, it’s not for the faint of heart.”

Kyra snorts, picking up the two plates she’s made for the kid and leading out to the dining room.

Dinner goes by fairly well until Kobe throws a dino nugget at Harper and she retaliates by throwing her peas. Kobe’s easy enough to get into bed, two books and a warm bottle of milk and he’s out. Harper is a little bit more of a project with bathtime, three books, half an hour of cuddles and then death gripping you in her sleep. It takes you about ten minutes to pry her from your arms slowly before you’re finally free.

Kyra is already stretched out on the sofa, a premier league game playing on the TV that she looks like she’s hardly paying any attention to.

“How did chief wrangler go about getting the monsters to bed?”

You plop down on top of her, ignoring the way she groans as your body relaxes into hers.

“5 books and a lot of cuddles. It’s hard work being the favourite.”

Kyra reaches around you, her hands finding their place on your stomach and hips.

“I would be the favourite if you were injured less, not my fault that you have more free time then me.”

Kyra’s hands find their space so naturally, it’s from years of practice and muscle memory.

“What can I say, I have a talent for clumsiness.”

You roll over, stomach to stomach with Kyra, eye to eye.

“Trust me I know, it was only last week that you woke me up in the middle of the night cause you hit your head on our bedside table.”

You don’t really have a comeback in response, so you let your eyes float to the TV.

“Harper asked if we were going to get married someday.”

You expect Kyra to laugh, or say something, but instead her body just jolts.

“Funny, right? She was telling me about all the ways we were like Kat and Klara so that should mean we should get married as well.”

Kyra laughs finally, but it’s not in the same way she normally does. It’s kind of choked and stuck in the back of her throat.

“Yeah funny what kids come up with.”

You take your eyes off the TV and back to Kyra’s face, her eyes flash away as soon as yours land on hers.

“I thought about it for a minute, the dresses, our families, on the beach. It was stupid but it would have been nice.”

Kyra laughs again, the exact same way. You try to ignore the way it twists around your throat and makes you feel like it’s harder to breathe.

“Cause we’re just us, and I just love us, you know?”

You know you’ve well and truly fucked up when Kyra nods, still averting your eye contact completely. You don’t want to risk it completely though by going all in, it’s all uncharted territory.

“Yeah, it’s not us.”

You consciously ignore the way that Kyra’s face scrunches up as she says it.

If Harper is the first to question then in typical Meado fashion Beth is second.

It happens in the midst of a team bonding session at Kim’s house, it might be the midst of London winter but for whatever reason the occasion for the day is a barbeque and pizzas. Steph’s on barbeque because everyone agrees that the Australian way is the best way and Lia, Manu and Codi are all in charge of pizzas and everyone else is tasked with a variation of tasks like making drinks and for the most part having fun. It’s one of your first team bonding nights, so you’re yet to have been tasked with a specific role and aren’t quick to give up your spot lounging in Kim’s backyard. For whatever reason Beth has managed to weasel out of her own job to join you and a group of the other girls as you enjoy the very rare occurrence of the sun in the winter months.

Kyra, who should be enjoying it as well, is in a particularly pesty mood and has tasked herself with the job of seeing how much she can get on everybody else's nerves without being screamed at. So far you’ve observed as she’s stuck the clothes pegs from Kim’s washing line to whatever article of clothing or ponytail she can, pull a chair out from underneath three of your teammates and steal Steph’s tongs 6 times only for her to put them back three minutes later once Steph had gone off in search of them. It’s entertaining for you, mostly because you’re the only one who's used to her antics. You’ve seen every prank from the past 23 years of life, you basically have a detector inside of you that goes off when Kyra is plotting something.

You watch, you observe and you laugh a little bit to yourself at the obliviousness of your teammates as Kyra continues her mostly harmless attacks on your teammates.

“It’s disgusting how in love the two of you are.”

You lean over to look at Beth, your eyes still trained on Kyra in your peripherals.

“She’s my best friend, dork.”

You shrug it off like it’s nothing, because it kind of is.

“Your best friend who you sleep in the same bed with, fuck when we win, kiss when you’re drunk, don’t date or look at anybody else and have wrapped around your finger. Sounds totally like best friends, really gay, really in love with each other, best friends.”

You look away from Beth to stop her from seeing your blush, but partly to look back at Kyra.

“Kyra, no.”

Kyra in your lapse of attention has managed to somehow find a watering can and is hovering a few feet behind Vic as she watches the barbeque whilst Steph has gone on her seventh search for her tongs.

In a matter of seconds, possibly milliseconds the watering can is dropped, deserted on a bench beside her as she glares at you as if you’ve wrecked her master plan.

“And you can get her to stop her pranks. You can’t fool me, the two of you are clandestined lovers and I cannot be convinced otherwise.”

Kyra continues to pout at you, completely oblivious to the conversation happening between you and Beth. You pat down on the cushion beside you and Kyra trudges over like a kid who has just been told off even when they know that they’re being naughty. She collapses down next to you, her arms knotting themselves over your shoulders as she does so.

“Meado, why are you smiling at us like that?”

There becomes a common understanding amongst the team that you and Kyra’s dynamic is not quite like anything else. It kind of becomes an unspoken rule that most people don’t talk about it, but there are a few people who take it upon themselves to try and force you and Kyra to take your heads out of your asses and just acknowledge that you are more than the two of you seem to think. There are other people, some of your teammates, who believe it’s easier to let the two of you live. You’re both so happy, it’s so clear to see. People like Steph, Caitlin and Kat are so used to it that they hardly bat an eye at the two of you. At least that’s how it goes for the most part.

Kyra is at Steph’s house for dinner whilst you’re in London for the night at a brand event.

It’s mostly a nice dinner, Beth pops in and out but Viv’s over so for the most part they do their own thing.

Steph makes a great bolognese, life changing almost.

For the most part their conversations revolve solely around football until it somehow lands to you.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get the plus one invite tonight, huh?”

Steph doesn’t miss the way that Kyra’s lips immediately perk up at the mention of you, it’s the same way it’s always been.

“We’re not like that.”

Steph also doesn’t miss the way Kyra’s face scrunches up as she says it.

“But you want to be?”

Kyra bites her tongue, and then her lip. She doesn’t really know what to say to that. Not when you’re so adamant that you two are just that.

“We’re best mates.”

Steph wants to pick up a piece of garlic bread and throw it at Kyra, she really does.

“Best mates who spend every single minute together or on the phone with each other, best mates who can’t sleep without being next to each other, best mates who I’ve seen kiss multiple times, best friends who plan their whole lives around each other. You are not best mates, not in the way that most people are with their best mates. Beth and I are best friends, do you see us kissing and fucking when we feel like it? Do you see us bloody buying houses based on the fact that it accommodates the other person. Do we plan our whole holiday break based on which place is going to make the both of us the happiest? Look Kyra, you’re clearly in love. I’ve never seen a person more whipped in my entire life. You’ve only been like that in the few years that I’ve known you, but the two of you have been doing this your whole lives. You’re going to keep doing it, that’s fine, but it’s also okay to want more. Look, I’m not saying one way is better than the other but it seems like you’re struggling and if you need the sway I’m happy to help.”

Kyra’s whole body tenses, like she’s been caught out on the prank of the century. Except her usual cheekiness is completely gone.

“She likes us how we are. I don’t want to be greedy and end up losing her forever. What we have is good, being just us is enough.”

Kyra pushes her fork around her plate because she doesn’t know what else to do with Steph staring at her.

“You don’t have to settle for enough. I can guarantee that she is just as scared as you to say anything. The both of you will spend your life wondering what if. If you love her, more than she knows then you have to tell her, you will spend the rest of your life regretting it if you don’t.”

Steph thinks she’s watched enough romance movies to know it’s true, it’s always the case of two people being so in love that they don’t know how to tell the other.

“She-She doesn’t want me like that. She always says that we’re just us, every time anybody mentions anything else she always says no. I have enough, asking for anything else would be stupid.”

Steph’s heart throbs at the words, this really is like the rom coms she watches.

“But if the opportunity was there, if she asked, you’d say yes.”

Kyra doesn’t say anything but the twinkle in her eyes tells Steph everything.

“You need to take your head out of your ass and tell Kyra how you feel because she thinks that you don’t want her.”

You’re lying on a physio bed, half awake whilst your calf gets massaged when Leah shakes your whole body. You haven’t even had your coffee yet, you struggle to understand half of the words that leave her mouth.

“Sorry, what?”

Leah sticks her head underneath the table, looking up at you.

“All I’ve heard from Steph all morning is all the plans revolving around somehow getting you and Kyra to realise that you’re in love with each other. Kyra’s worried that you don’t want her that way, you’re a doofus, yadayada. I’m telling you now to pull your finger out and tell her that you liked her more than just being companions or whatever the fuck you are because if I have to hear another second of it I will combust.”

You don’t know whether it’s the decaffeination or how fast Leah is speaking but you still struggle to understand what she’s saying.

“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?”

Leah looks like she wants to hit you.

“You and Kyra and your stupid fucking situationship that nobody understands. Tell her you love her and not in the stupid way you do now but in a I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend even though you already are and get married and spend the rest of my life with you.”

You blink a few times because you don’t really know what to say.

“Okay?”

Leah smiles.

“Glad we have this talk, you have until the end of day or else Steph is locking the two of you in a storage closet until you can work it all out.”

You still feel like you’re in a fever haze by the time you find Kyra. She’s in a recovery room using compression boots when you come in.

“You know I love you right?”

Kyra smirks, lazily like it’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.

“I know, I love you too idiot.”

You ignore the fact that sitting next to Kyra is Vic, Codi and Lessi.

“No, like I love you because you're the person I want to spend my life with, like my girlfriend or partner or whatever. I love you like that, just not as a friend.”

Kyra’s mouth gapes, big and wide and then she clamps it shut.

“O-Okay.”

It’s kind of cute, actually, it’s really cute. It makes you feel bad for having not established this earlier.

“You’re cool with that, life, marriage, kids. All of that, if not maybe tell me now and we can like move out or whatever. Just wanted to let you know that’s how I feel. I’m sure we can talk about it at home, just thought I’d make sure before we get locked in a closet together.”

Kyra nods, her mouth still gaping a bit.

“Yeah, I’m cool with that.”

You smile in the same way you have since you were 6 and the two of you were taking kindergarten photos.

“Good to hear, I’ll see you at training.”

You’re gone before Kyra can ask much more.

Alessia is the first one to speak.

“I’m so confused, please tell me everybody else is confused.”

Everyone else nods, almost the same look on their faces as Kyra.

“Wait-closet? What about a closet?”

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Too Good to be True

Pairing: Jaemin x reader Description: Description? You want me to give you a description and ruin the fun? No way. It’s best if you just go into this one with no hints. Content warnings: None :)  Word count: 3,515 A/n: This is the epilogue to Too Good to be Fake, which you can read here if you haven’t already - thank you all for showing so much love to that fic, I swear my heart has never been so full. So, this is my gift to you in return. Please enjoy :))

“No, you know what? I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.” Your broken voice rings throughout the unoccupied space of the apartment’s living room, but you know it reached where you needed it to. 

“After everything we’ve been through?” Jaemin yells back from his bedroom. “You’re giving up on this? Just like that?” 

You shake your head as tears provide a healthy glaze over your eyes, frustrated that he wasn’t out here to actually have this conversation with you because now you felt stupid. “I’m tired, Jaemin,” you reply in defeat, trying your best not to let the tears roll down your cheeks. You hated that this was the state you were in, but you were so drained and you had to do something about it, even if each embarrassed word you spoke brought every tear closer. 

“Oh, and now I have a name-?” Jaemin shoots back in great offense as he finally leaves his bedroom and rounds the corner to continue talking, but the second he sees your figure, his face drops into worry. “Hey…angel,” he says softly, rushing to wrap you in a hug and place a kiss on the top of your head. “You are tired, huh?” He echoes in understanding, leaving you to just nod into his chest as the tears finally fall down your cheeks.

“We’ve been working all day- and I get why, and I get that we’re supposed to finish this all up soon, but I can’t,” you reply miserably. “Not today.” 

The thing was, you and the guys were throwing Haechan a surprise party, his birthday now just days away. The rest of your friend group promised to keep Haechan busy and out of his shared apartment with Jaemin for the day, and under the guise of a date between the two of you, you and your boyfriend were using the time to roughly set up decorations and start putting things together, where everything would then be kept in Jaemin’s room until the actual party. 

That being said, you both had been running from party store to party store all day today, trying to get decorations to match the vibe you had in your heads. You had spent the past two hours unpacking everything, trying to set up the space in a way that looked good so that you could take a reference picture before tearing it all down again to keep hidden for the next few days. Less of a decorator than you were, Jaemin took on the job of continuously blowing up balloons in his room to make a balloon tower. Altogether, the entire concept of the surprise party was something you were really pumped to do for Haechan…until about two minutes ago when you hit your breaking point, leaving you to cry in your boyfriend’s arms.

Jaemin gives your figure a fond look, lightly rubbing a hand up and down your back as he tries his best to comfort you, any element of playfulness now completely gone from his being. “You’re okay. We can rest,” he assures gently. Slowly, he removes one arm from around you to instead place it lightly on your cheek, guiding your face up so he could make eye contact with you. “Do you wanna go back to your place so we can be away from all this party stuff?” He suggests, and the idea of it sends more relief through your system than you could’ve imagined.

“Sure, thank you,” you say with a light nod of your head, bringing your own hand up to wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks. Jaemin does his part in swiping a thumb under your eye on the side where his hand was already placed, and then he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Anything for you, sweet girl,” he responds, pulling back to look you over again. “I’m sorry today took a lot out of you.” He grimaces as he continues, looking genuinely regretful knowing that all of this was his idea in the first place. 

You shake your head to dismiss his guilt, as if wanting to throw a surprise party wasn’t already a huge indicator of how big his heart was - your inability to decorate for hours on end was not for him to feel bad about. “No big deal,” you assure, and then a smile finally paints itself across your lips again as you stare back at him. “At least I’ve been by your side for the entirety of it.”

Jaemin shakes his head in disbelief, a breathy laugh escaping him as he smiles brightly back down at you. “I love you so much,” he states, unable to help himself from leaning down to catch your own lips in an actual kiss. Then, he fully lets you go from the hug, switching his grip to instead grab your hand in his own and lead you around to gather his things before heading out of the door with a soft, “come on.”

As soon as Jaemin started his car, he whipped his head towards you in the passenger seat. “Oh, hey, you have your key, right?” He asks seriously, but you look back at him as though he were crazy.

“Yes…? Don’t you also have your spare key, though?” You ask in return, and watch as Jaemin shakes his head.

“No, it’s in my room right now, which is why I was asking before we got on the road so that I could go get it if need be; so you can either wipe that look off your face, angel, or I’ll kiss it off you, cause I’m not as crazy as your stare would lead anyone to assume,” he answers with a playful taunt. You roll your eyes at him to combat the heat that went to your cheeks at his tease. Still, you lean over the center console and press a firm kiss to the side of his face, though Jaemin catches you before you’re all the way settled in your seat again, and instead pulls you back so he could actually kiss you, too - somehow, he never got enough of you…you thanked your lucky stars for that one every single day.

As he finally lets you go and shifts to actually start driving, you occupy yourself by playing with his hand that found its home on your thigh. Quickly, though, another thought crosses your mind and you furrow your brows. “Hey, wait-” you start, focusing your gaze back on his face and watching as he chances a quick glance back over at you to urge you to continue. “Do you not carry my spare key with your own house keys?” You ask skeptically, knowing that if it were you, having one key automatically meant you had the other.

Jaemin shakes his head in response but cuts it off promptly as he chooses to just explain himself instead. “No, well- yes. Normally I keep both keys in the same place, but my keychain broke the other day, so I only have my car keys and stuff while everything else that used to be on my keychain sits on my desk until I can get a new one.” 

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ at his explanation as you pull out your phone and add ‘keychain’ to the list of gift ideas for him that you had in your notes. Then your attention turns back to his fingers tapping rhythmically against your thigh as you bring one hand to cover overtop his own, and Jaemin risks one more fond glance at your figure before pinning all his focus on not missing the turn into your block of housing. 

As Jaemin grabs your hand and helps you out of his car, you’re instantly confused by the sight that greets you. Tons of rose petals were scattered on the pavement and seemed to lead up to your front door. You give a small shake of your head and laugh. “Was it super windy earlier today?” You question, eyeing the rose petals which you assumed had definitely made their way over to the wrong walkway. “Someone’s gonna be disappointed when they find out all their roses ended up on my doorstep,” you continue with a laugh. Jaemin lets out his own soft exhale of laughter, squeezing your hand slightly tighter in his as the two of you walk up and you begin unlocking the door.

However, as you swing the door open, all of your awkward laughter abruptly stops and you take in the state of your living area. None of your actual lights were on, but the room was filled with the golden glow of numerous candles, illuminating the rose petals that continued from your front door to eventually circle your dinner table, soft music playing from a source you couldn’t yet lay eyes on. You finally remember to breathe, and a heavy exhale leaves your gaping mouth as you turn to your boyfriend in question. “Jaem…what-” you cut off your words as you look up to meet his eyes and catch the brightest of smiles playing against his features.

“Happy five months, angel,” he says fondly, squeezing your hand in his for a moment before bringing it up to his lips so he could kiss the back of it. Realization dawns across your face all at once.

“Oh my god, today’s the 2nd,” you breathe out, your eyes wide in horror at the fact that you weren’t conscious of the date until now. You knew Haechcan’s birthday was getting close, but the last thing on your mind as you got things ready for his party was that today was June 2nd.

Jaemin throws a smirk in your direction. “That it is,” he began assuredly. “Thankfully, somehow, I was able to distract you from that fact for the entire day,” he continues, his tone as though it was the biggest accomplishment in the world. He breaks into more explanation with a small laugh. “I was terrified it’d be the only thing on your mind and then I’d be an asshole for pretending to not know what day it is.” As he continues, he squeezes your hand in his once more, turning your attention fully back to him rather than where your gaze had been wandering around the room again. A shy smile paints his lips as he continues softly. “I know it’s a weird one to celebrate so grandly, but I really wanted to surprise you, and no other birthdays lined up well enough for my plan to work.”

Of course, surprises had to be planned, but the addressing of the word sent your head spinning. This was the plan. A thousand thoughts run through your head as you look up at him in confusion. “So Haechan’s surprise party-” You begin, but Jaemin’s eyes go wide in an instant and he rushes to cut you off.

“Wait-!” His attempt is overshadowed by his own words getting interrupted.

“I’m getting a surprise party?!” Haechan questioned from the kitchen, excitement coating his voice and making Jaemin sigh. You whip your head towards where his voice came from, but still can’t lay eyes on him in just the candle light.

“You’re here?!” You question in shock, and Haechan finally steps out to where you can see him, clad in a suit and his head ducked in embarrassment immediately after making eye contact with an unimpressed Jaemin.

“Sorry,” he begins lowly as he seems to resume a role of sorts. “Don’t think of me as Haechan. I’m just supposed to be a server tonight.” His words and sure tone only serve to confuse you even more.

“Are you all here?” You ask, and at once, the rest of the guys pop up from behind the kitchen counter, all in matching suits and with idiotic grins on their faces.

“Chenle and Jeno are cooking, Renjun’s on dessert, Jisung and I are your trusty wait staff, and Mark brought his guitar over so he can play live music tonight,” Haechan explains calmly. You take in their presence, along with all the information that Haechan just recounted to you, and your head drops to the floor, sucking on your bottom lip as more starts clicking into place.

“This is why you don’t have your spare key,” you say underneath a sigh of disbelief. 

Jaemin lets out a small chuckle as he tracks your train of thought. “Well, my keychain did break but- yeah,” he cedes, continuing softly. “It’s currently in Mark’s pocket…figured he was the most trustworthy. And-” he breaks off with another exhale of laughter before looking down at you with a fond grin. “To answer your previous question, Haechan’s party is definitely a thing, but there’s no way we could’ve blown up balloons already, half of them would be deflated by the 6th. I just needed a reason for you to be out of the house…and to not question why Haechan was also out all day, so I figured setting up for his surprise party would do the trick.” He drops his head after his explanation and begins to fumble for more words, his thumb gently rubbing against the back of your hand. “Again, I’m sorry it wore you out,” he says sincerely, then popping his head back up to give you a weak smile. “I just needed to make sure they had time to get everything ready over here.”

You take in the living room again alongside his words, and being completely filled in now, you can’t help it when tears make their reappearance in your eyes. “Baby…” you manage to whimper out, and Jaemin lets out a fond laugh as he pulls you into him again so he can fully hug you.

“Hey, angel, it’s okay,” he reassures for the second time that day, placing another kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his chest in return.

Jaemin places a hand on your cheek and guides your face back up towards his slightly until he can rest his forehead against your own. “I love you,” he replies seriously, a smile straining at his lips before he just leans in to kiss you softly. 

“I can’t believe I’m getting a birthday party!” Haechan exclaims from the kitchen, with nothing but joy in his tone and a complete neglect for what was happening in front of him.

“Haechan, not the time!” The rest of the group groans in chorus, Jeno swatting at him with the back of his hand.

“Right, right,” Haechan relents, now rubbing away at the sting in his bicep. You and Jaemin break from the kiss with a laugh, but Haechan’s input did a good job at reminding you both that you weren’t exactly alone tonight, and dinner was just getting started. So, Jaemin took your hand and led you to the table, where Jisung greeted you both with water and Haechan took actual drink orders which, surprisingly, wasn’t just whatever you already had stocked in your fridge. 

As far as an actual dinner meal went, Jisung informed you both that there were two options on the menu; and when you and Jaemin ordered different meals from each other, Chenle and Jeno popped their heads up over the kitchen counter and informed you that they actually could only make two servings of one meal rather than one serving of two meals, and then when you and Jaemin decided on which dish truly sounded best, Chenle and Jeno informed you that you picked the wrong one, and it was the other which was going to be served. Jaemin dropped his head into his hand, but you just let out a fond laugh and nod of your head. Then, Chenle and Jeno got to work on finishing cooking what they had already prepped for before the two of you ever got there.

Renjun rolled his eyes at the boys, but it wasn’t as though your dessert was in a much different boat, it’s just that he wasn’t going to even pretend there were other options than tiramisu. 

As your dinner conversation started winding down and you moved onto dessert, Mark stopped terrorizing his friends in the kitchen and instead moved over to an armchair in your living area to actually start playing his guitar. 

With the last bite of tiramisu and Mark still humming a melody, Jaemin looked your way intently, rolling his lips inwards before spitting out a question.

“Do you want to dance?” He asks, a little more awkward than normal for Jaemin. You look back at him as some shock runs through you at his question, but before you even think about responding, your gaze subconsciously darts over to where the rest of the guys were anxiously awaiting your answer from the other side of the kitchen island. Jaemin follows your gaze and then drops his head with an embarrassed laugh. “Just pretend they aren’t here- except for Mark, who’s, you know…playing the music.”

You let out a small laugh of your own before shifting your gaze back to Jaemin, eyebrows raised as you give the question back to him. “Do you want to dance?”

A wide grin tugs at Jaemin’s lips as he gives a solemn nod of his head. “I’d love any excuse to hold you,” he replies softly, and you just let out a heavy exhale.

“You’re too good to be true,” you say in return, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at Jaemin across the table from you.

His smile grows to reveal his teeth, but he drops his head as a blush takes hold of his features. “Funny,” he begins thoughtfully, guiding his gaze up to eventually meet yours again. “I think the same thing every time I look at you,” he admits sincerely, and now it’s your turn to blush. “Come on,” he begs softly, standing up from the table and leaving a hand out to take your own. “Come dance.”

As you place your hand in his, the boys scurry out from behind the counter to quickly push all the furniture back in the living room and give the two of you more space; then immediately darting back into the kitchen again and leaving Mark to be the one to smile up at you guys from where he was situated on the chair before aiming his focus back on his guitar.

The two of you held each other in the living room and swayed back and forth to whatever love song Mark remembered he could play on guitar, Jaemin sometimes grabbing your hand to spin you around as an excuse to look you up and down in your entirety, your diamond necklace catching in the candlelight as you turn and he’d lose all his words trying to understand how he ever got so lucky as to have you love him. You were an absolute dream, from your smile and your laugh, to the way you looked in his clothes and the things he’s bought for you, to the way you retaught him what love looked like (the answer was simple now, love looked like you). Jaemin was sure there’d never be enough softness in his eyes to convey how fond of you he was. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. His eyes glazed over with love as he stared after you tonight, the most tender smile on his lips each time he pulled you back into him from your spin so that he could hold you some more.

A few songs in and the boys decided you both had enough time to settle into the mood that their presence would no longer affect things, and as such, they stopped hiding behind the counter and instead leaned over the island in admiration as they watched the two of you dance, their own whispered conversations being the only thing to keep them even a bit distracted. Though, for some, those side conversations weren’t enough to keep their evening light. Renjun shot his head over to his right the second he heard a sniffle. “Are you crying?” He whisper yells in shock.

“No. Shut up,” Chenle dismisses with a firm shake of his head, but then he turns his head back to you and Jaemin and throws his hands up in defeat. “They’re just so in love.”

Renjun does his best to stop his laugh from shattering the atmosphere, and instead he just raises his eyebrows at Chenle. “You used to cringe at that, you know?” He teases, nudging Chenle in the side with his elbow. Chenle can’t buy into the banter, and instead is trying his best to stifle his sob. It doesn’t get past the rest of the guys though, who make wild eye contact with Renjun before they all bear hug Chenle, able to finally turn his tears into embarrassed laughter. As for you and Jaemin, you were in your own world, completely unaware of what was going down in your kitchen. The obliviousness wasn’t your fault, Chenle was right, after all - the two of you were just so in love.

Taglist: @fullsunstrawberry @neocitytime127 @dowoonwoodealer

[soggyriceee]

oh my god would you write sub ellie taking your strap then overstimulating her with it

maybe vampire reader?

cant take it 18+| E.W

<strap use(reader) overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, vampire!ellie, porn no plot>

your calves and hips were tired at this point, swear dripping off the tip of your nose as you stared down at the poor girl. her cheeks would stain a light red from her tears as her long nails ripped holes into the mattress. it truly took every ounce of care for you to not switch roles in a literal second, knowing how much you wanted to do this to her.

Ellie was usually on top, and in the beginning you didn’t mind. you loved how she could morph her cock into whatever got you to cream all over her. she loved watching you squirm under her, she did not enjoy squirming under you. not like this. it was vulnerable for her, embarrassing even.

“nngh.. c-come on i’ve already.. came three times.” she would choke out, becoming annoyed with how wet she was. for someone who says they want you to stop, her pussy is practically begging for the opposite. but you didn’t care, you had no intention of stopping. not this early into it.

ellie would cum pretty fast with you inside hee like this. it was a whole new feeling and she hated to admit she loved it. the way you’d stretch her out, how you were patient with her. she liked being talked throufh her orgasm, way more than she thought. seeing this whole other side of you was too much. but again, you didn’t care. 

so when you’d begin to remove the strap off your hips, watching how this look of confusion took over her, you’d smile down, saying “let’s make it four?”

you sit, legs spread to either side her body, dragging the pink dildo in and out her, watching her pulse around it. a ring of her cum coats the base, your fingers getting a bit of it on them as you moved the cock for her. with a buck of her hips, she’d choke out the most pathetic of sobs, begging you to stop when your thumb went back to her puffy clit. “babe please i-i.. can’t cum again it hurt.”

so you honestly should’ve expected it, when she’d cum again and her legs pushed you off her, an accident and a reflex. the strength she used was enough to get of entirely off the bed, a loud laugh escaping from you as you hit the floor. on the bed, ellie would sob and shake, poor girl, ripping the cock out of her as her knees pressed together.

you’d both have to forgive each other that night in the bath, more so Ellie than you. nothing but a small bruise on your thigh, Ellie would never forgive herself for it. but also, don’t push the poor girl. she can only cum so many times.

[swagprincessz1yah]

cw; sickeningly sweet petnames: baby,sweetheart,bunny,doll,etc ,oral (f receiving), p in v, very intimate missionary, implied aftercare, friends to lovers(?)

Satoru hadn’t felt this way about anyone — not since suguru.

after every time he even got to be near you, you drowned his thoughts. at first, he hated it. thought you were torturing him, trying to embarrass him. after all, he never has to need someone, he’s so used to being needed.

it was so weird to develop feelings for you. god, he felt like he was back in high school — a mess of emotions and ego.

Gojo always felt so disconnected from everyone else, his family, his friends, he didn’t get the privilege of being around them since missions took him so far. that’s why it was nice to have you around, he didn’t need the help on missions. but when it was over, and you two would disappear into your hotel room…

he realised he really fucking needed you.

needed you more than this platonic bullshit. the late night conversations, the calling and texting constantly, the way he’d get butterflies in his stomach when he heard your laugh, and more importantly liked the fact it was him making you laugh.

no, he needed to feel you.

he needed you to feel him. not a lot of people can do that, not with his infinity up 24/7.

whenever he got to hold your hand, even if it was for a second, he felt like a blushing kid all over again. when you’d look at him with that smile, or lean in close to show him a video about cats or whatever bullshit you were into, gojo knew he was hooked.

Gojo had you in his arms, bridal style. the smell of your perfume mixed with a strong linger of liquor. your body was so warm, flushed against his, and you held onto his chest like it was the only thing keeping you stable.

the night was beautifully dark, a royal blue scattered with burning specks of stars. warm street lamps cast their light upon you two.

you called him because your friend ditched you and you had no way home after a night of drinking.

now here he was — where he’d always be, right by your side. carrying you to his fancy Mercedes.

“Gojooo, i’m so sorry.”

he chuckled, amused by your drunken state, “sorry? for what?”

you pouted, “for waking you up! it’s really late, ‘toru.”

he opened the passenger door, gently guiding you inside, “ah, no worries. i was already awake.” he wasn’t lying, no not at all. he was up, eyes wide and awake thinking about you. thinking about how much he enjoyed being around you, how you brightened his day.

you heard the seatbelt click and groaned, dismissing what he had just said because you still felt bad.

later that night, he tucked you into bed, pulling the duvet over your chest as your eyes fluttered closed.

he smiled warmly to himself, thinking you were already knocked out, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” before he could get to the door, “wait!” you mumbled, your hand reaching out for his. “please..”

satoru’s light fingers weaved in between yours, “what’s up? do you need anything else?—“

“please, don’t go.” your words hit him like a car. he felt his cracked heart flutter so erratically it almost hurt.

“y-yeah..” was he stuttering? did you seriously make the strongest sorcerer of current times really stutter? “yeah.” he repeated, breath more stable as he climbed into bed next to you.

you smiled, it was so raw and genuine, countless times a day would he do business with elderly sorcerers and they’d soullessly smile at him. but your smile, your drunk, tired smile, was so fucking raw. he would take a picture, but could a picture even capture everything this smile meant to him?

“thank you.” you spoke, voice softer then cashmere, “you’re so good to me.”

sure, satoru was a heavenly blessing to earth, but if there was an even greater blessing meant for only the angels, it would be you.

days passed, days of pretending this was still casual and nothing but platonic.

gojo returned home from a terrible mission — the balance of the world shifted when satoru gojo was born, curses were stronger than they ever had been for centuries. obviously, they were no match for the strongest.

but it took a toll on him when he realised they were targeting his students, he couldn’t let history repeat itself. he didn’t wanna see the students he raised be plagued with the same fatigue, the same loneliness that he had seen countless others go through.

he clenched his fist just thinking about it. you’d think the first place gojo would go after a long tough mission would be his home, right?

nope, he found him self staring at your front door.

he rang the doorbell, taking a deep breath. you swung the door open, gleaming as you see your boy, “‘Toru, hey! i missed you.”

you missed him? you sounded like a loving wife in the 1940’s, like your tough man had just returned from war after waiting so long for him. he questioned, is that what you want? you wanna be his wife?

fuck, he could imagine you with a pretty ring on your finger—

“Come in!”

you two ended up sitting on your couch together. gojo tried so hard to focus, but every time you started speaking his eyes wondered to your lips — he wanted to kiss you so bad, wanted to know what you tasted like. he wonders what you’d do… would you kiss him back? purr his name like it belonged on your tongue?—

“do you want a drink?” you asked, unintentionally saccharine.

he cleared his throat with a small cough, “yeah, do you have Pepsi?”

you got up, moving to the bar-styled kitchen area in your apartment, “sure do!”

you opened the fridge, wrapping you hands around two cold cans of Pepsi, “how was your mission,‘toru?” fuck, did you have to say his name like that?

he hummed, taking the can you passed him, “exhausting.”

“shit.” you clicked it open, taking a small sip, letting the fizziness attack your tongue.

Gojo was a fucking angel. his watercolour skin, his oceanic eyes (covered by tinted sunglasses), you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. especially right now, he was annoyed, eye brows slightly furrowed, a subtle pout on his full lips. though his voice was low and honestly candy for your ears, you couldn’t make out what your cherub was saying, too tainted by your own desires.

“—shit!” you cursed, in your state of admiration, the drink you were holding had seemingly slipped from your fingers. “fuck!”

your shirt was uncomfortably wet, sticking to your skin, cold and smelling of Pepsi.

Satoru laughed, “nice one, sweets.”

you mocked annoyance, “shut up! damn, i need to change.” without even thinking about it, you pulled your shirt over your head.

Satoru’s eyes wondered for only a second, seeing your white decently lacy bra — it’s almost like you wanted him to look?! he turned his head away, trying to pretend this was normal. he had to try and hide his rapidly growing erection now.

the white lace looked so good against your skin, he might just forever have that image burned into the crevices of his brain.

“give me your shirt.” he couldn’t tell if you were joking.

“why?”

you snickered under your breath, “because i’m too lazy to get up—“

“are you just trying to get me shirtless?” Satoru joked.

“maybe.”

he ran a palm over his face, exhaling his words. “what the fuck.” was he… angry?

he turned to face you, trying not to care that you were half naked in front of him. “what the hell is this— i mean, come on, what are we doing?”

you opened your mouth, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him how desperately you fantasised about him, but your throat ran dry, unable to speak.

“i can’t- i can’t keep doing this. fuck, you’re all i fucking see, when i close my eyes it’s just-“ he stammered, “do you even know what you do to me? are you just messing around with me?”

a beat. a beat of satoru’s heavy breath, a search of understanding on his face.

Gojo’s head was hot, he felt like he was going to burst, he had so much to say but it was so hard to assign an emotion to it. “you fucking- you’re doing this on purpose—“

you connected your lips, the feeling of his lips against yours was sacred, it felt celestial. you would dance among the stars if it led you to him, to this moment even. you started getting glutinous, leaning in like he was your last meal, shifting your weight to your knees.

you felt a hand on you shoulder, pushing you away — fuck, maybe you were too much? maybe you had took this all the wrong way?

Satoru panted, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling anymore, all he knew was that he fucking needed you. needed to touch you, to make you scream as easy as he’d make you laugh. butterflies flew around in his stomach, as if he was some virgin. without a word, his grip moved to the back of your neck, reeling you back in and kissing you like his life depended on it. he coaxed you onto his lap, wanting to drown in you. your manicured nails tugged on the neckline of his shirt, silently begging for him to take it off.

as much as you never wanted to let go, you pulled back to suck in some oxygen. it felt like such a chore for your lips to be parted from his. Satoru urgently tore off his shirt, throwing it somewhere that didn’t matter. your nails ran along the groves of his toned body — whoever sculpted gojo did so with love.

he couldn’t help but feel like a fool for snapping at you earlier, “Fuck, ‘m so sorry.” he voiced, vocals shaky and unsteady.

you tilted your head lower, leaving little love bites on his neck and jaw. “shut up.” you muttered, taking in the comforting scent of cologne. one hand cupped his cheek, tilting his jaw and allowing yourself more access as if you were some sort of ravenous vampire.

without even realising it, you started rocking your hips against his lap, holding onto him like a needy child. your core pulsed with lust, feeling his eager erection underneath.

the motion was driving him insane, your lips might as well be sucking his soul out of him, and your hips were clearly just torturing him.

“ah- fuck.” he exhaled, whimpering slightly.

something about him and his vulnerable state made you want to fucking conquer him. in the most passionate, intimate way you wanted to absolutely devour him. make him know you and only you.

you wanted him to need you.

to yearn for you.

the confession about your overwhelming desire was on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be said — yet, you didn’t utter a word. you had never been good with words, however you fully intended on expressing yourself with your actions.

Gojo’s rough hand held your hair possessively, bringing you back to his lips. your arms wrapped around his neck, locking yourself onto him — slithering around him like a minacious serpent.

he pulled away, denying your need for more, a small smirk washed across his face. “you have no idea how long i’ve needed you.”

you bit your lip, an innocent flash in your pupils, “oh yeah?”

satoru was lost in you. gaze dancing all over your face, senses filled with nothing but you. he nodded, “damn right. since the fucking day i met you.”

you felt the heat rush to your cheeks, your gummy smile growing wider. “stop it.” you buried your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your mess of emotions.

he chuckled, mockingly. “oh getting shy now? you weren’t shy when you asked me to undress~?”

“stopp!” you squealed, bringing your face back in front of his. fingertips gracing the sides of his sunglasses, “you should take these off too.”

the diamond gaze of his met yours once the glasses got discarded. you pushed his ivory strands up from his forehead, lost in the ocean that is his eyes.

his face was washed with a light pink hue spanning from his cheeks, satoru gojo really was a swirl of watercolour hues, a museum painting meant to be a drop of heaven. “so beautiful, baby.” you muttered, vision moving to his lips. his gleaming lips, meant to be hooked onto yours forevermore.

his hands moved under your ass, hoisting you up in his arms, holding you like a delicate piece of work. gojo carried you into your messy bedroom, laying you down like a predator preparing its meal. your back hit the soft sheets, an angel hovering over you.

he kissed along your collarbone, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark. he moved to your chest, finally unhooking your bra, wanting you to be completely exposed to him. he dropped the lacy material somewhere on the bed - somewhere you didn’t take note of - as he kissed in between the valley of your breasts.

“s-satoru-“ you moaned.

“shh, doll. let me take care of you.”

his touch moved to your tummy, then your abdomen — every kiss felt like a tear from heaven drowning you. not to mention, a throbbing wetness growing in your core.

“please, i want you.”

“want me?” he ran a finger along your abdomen, travelling lower and lower, “want me here?”

you nodded blindly, feeling his finger graze your skin and his pulled your shorts down, leaving you in just your panties.

he rubbed you through the soaked material, brushing your clit with the tip of his fingers, earning a small whimper from you. mercifully, he hooked his fingers under your panties, sliding them down your thighs.

Gojo’s fingers ran smoothly through your folds, wetness pooling on his fingers. one pale hand pushed on your thigh, keeping you open for him, the other spread your pussy lips, exposing your core to the cold air of the room.

“nngh-!” you were getting impatient, satorus slow movements driving you insane.

that’s when something switched, gojo finally let his burning desire loose. his tongue swirled all around your sensitive heat, kissing and sucking. Your hand reached for his hair, white locks weaving in between your fingertips. your eyes squinted together, barely being able to keep yourself stable.

Gojo was eating you out like you were his favourite meal, like he was trying to suck the soul out of you. he wasn’t just playing with your pussy, he was marking you, making you untouchable for another man. that pink tongue was probably spelling his own goddamn name on your tight cunt.

your thighs clenched, satoru prying you open like a book. the room was running off the moans that spilled out of you and the sloshing slurps of your needy pussy.

he hummed, vibrations running to your clit, “mmm so sweet, baby.”

it’s not his fault he’s sucking you up like he’s being timed, he has a sweet tooth after all !!! and you might just be the sweetest meal he’s ever lapped up.

a pressure builds up in your core and you rut against his face, desperate to let it all out. it’s so dirty, he’s swallowing the taste of you on his tongue, your juices coating his gleaming mouth, you’re covering him.

“ah- ‘toru, i cant-!” you cry, knuckles tensing and eyebrows furrowing.

he moans against your pussy, “oh sweetheart, you can.” you can feel his attention on you, his drive to please you — it shakes you to your core. “let go, let go on my tongue.”

you let out a soft, “ooh!” when satoru’s slick tongue prods at your sloppy muscle. he brings a thumb to your clit, applying just enough pressure to rip your orgasm out of you.

you're screaming out his name, letting loose on his tongue as he eats you through your climax. a warmth grows throughout your torso, you can’t tell if its love or ecstasy— but whatever it is, it feels so fucking good paired with gojo’s tongue working on you like a lollipop.

his movements slow, “good girl, so good.” his hand embraces yours and it feels so intimate. holding you like he’ll never leave, like he’s keeping you safe from the dangerous elements of the shattering world.

his six eyes watch the shaky rise and heavy fall of you breathing chest. for a small second he’s worried if he really did fuck you dumb with his just tongue, until you speak up, voice a light whisper. “satoru, you really are a gift from heaven.”

gojo laughs, standing up and towering between your legs. “i’m the honoured one for many reasons.” he bends his muscular back lower, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, gripping your thigh.

once more, his lips kiss the skin of chest, “don’t tap out on me now, sweet girl. we’re no where near done.”

you steady, recovering from your cool down, “i know.” you nod, “i’m ready, give me more, please.”you sound almost whiny, almost desperate, like you’d perish without his touch.

he snickers, a small smirk appearing upon his lips, “you don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

you bring you hand up, caressing the side of his cheek lightly. your galaxy swirl of a man, so enigmatic, at the tips of your fingers.

this was it.

satoru was right there, begging for you in every way he could. silk strands falling down to frame his face, lights reflecting into the depths of his retinas.

he wanted to be yours.

and you could feel it, the magnetic pull of you souls. the beats of your hearts creating a perfect melody that was only meant to be together. you ran your thumb across his plump lower lip, feeling the fragility of the strongest.

“satoru.” you purred, “i’m not asking, baby, i need you.”

gojo’s weak willed, impulsive — and who is he to deny his star?

with urgency, he unzipped his denim jeans, sliding them down along with his boxers. finally freeing his wild erection from its containment.

cock in his hand, lazy strokes. he bent down, chest meeting yours - electric skin to skin contact - plotting glowing kisses along your jawline. “you sure you can take it, sweets?” a subtle worry echoing through his words, the only goal he has is to please you.

you nodded, exhaling, “yes, fuck satoru—“

he eased the tip in, a stinging stretch enveloping you. your eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip tucked under your teeth. he was just so big. it hurt and made your tummy flutter at the same time, mixtures of pain and pleasure contradicting each other.

“shit, doll— you’re fucking squeezing me.” gojo said, vocals strained.

he could feel the pulsing of your walls as he gently eased himself in further, bottoming out.

“fuckfuckfuck, ‘toru-!” your nails marked all over his back and neck, not that he cared one bit.

he ducked down to give you open mouth kisses, travelling from your lips to your neck, “s’alright sweet girl, you’re okay. ive got you.”

you squirmed just a little, rutting your hips onto his, “oh my god- you can’t just say that…”

he laughed, breathily and curious, “why?”

“its so.. so intimate.”

a look of intent washed across his face, satoru never did anything without a reason. every word, every action - especially now - was meaningful. “this is intimate, isn’t it?” an all-knowing simper etched on his features.

you retorted “but-“

he withdrew his hips, only the tip inside of you — leaving you empty and yearning. “shh, let me take care of you.” with that, he rolled his hips forward. you whimpered as he continued this rhythm, as if his dick was made to fill you up.

you felt every vein on his pretty cock hit just the right spots, the pink tip kissing your cervix with every dive into your heat.

you moaned into his mouth, “hahh- fuuuuck, f-faster.”

satoru flashed you with that familiar look of arrogance — you wanted faster? oh he can give you faster and more. “oh yeah?” he cockily gazed down onto you, like you were his to tease, his to protect.

as requested, he gradually increased the pace, watching you jolt a little back onto the bed with the impact. he laughed at you, a whimpering squirming mess for him.

“you’re so fucking perfect, sweetest thing on earth.” he rasped, fucking into you with a dirty speed.

you smothered your hand half on his open mouth and half on his flushed cheek, swiping his bottom lip, “sh-shut up.”

god he loved that about you, your bite was so fucking adorable — especially when your pussy was clenching around his thick meat like it never wanted to let go.

your thumb pushed past his lip, his tongue swirling on your skin, the sight alone was addictive. it was amorous: watching him buck into you blinded with pure desire — watching the strongest fall apart inside of you.

that smooth voice moaned your name like it was a better cursed technique than purple. he twitched inside you, hitting spots deep inside of you that no man could ever reach.

the same hands that have a kill count took yours out of his warm mouth, holding your hand and feeling the bleed of your souls into one another. his fingers weaved between yours, trapping you between the bed and him.

the pleasure was overwhelming, the intimacy was sickeningly intense. your moans became more erratic, and you starting fucking yourself back onto his cock — chasing the sensation of his problem-solving cock slamming back into you again.

“ah-!” your head was fogging up, tears pricking in your eyes, “ithinkiloveyou��“

for once, gojo was completely astounded, you could tell by the stutter in his hips and the eye-widening shock on his face.

you didn’t even mean for that to slip out. what if it was too soon? what if you just killed the mood?—

a kiss to your mouth, “i love you too, sweetheart.” gojo started snapping his hips towards yours harder, with a roaring passionate drive, “now cum on this cock like you mean it.”

you cried out his name, feeling unbearably full of his dick. “ah-! ohmygod, ohmy-“ your orgasm drowned you like an tyrannical ocean, your legs quivered as gojo kept pounding into you.

your whole body went weak, “‘toru cum in me, please-“ you wailed, wrapping your arms around him.

gojo satoru had never felt so human before in his life. you grounded him, brought him back to earth, treated him like a person and not a god. for that, he respected you more than anyone else.

he buried his head in the nape of your neck, thrusts getting more desperate. “fuck- i love you, love you so much—“ there was a buzz of cursed energy in the air, unmistakably gojo’s.

he kissed your cervix once more, feeling you cunt tighten around the base of his cock and spilled ropes of thick cum into you. you whimpered at the sensation, feeling his seed drip out of you when he eased out.

you were both flushed, sweat glistening on your skin, and heat radiating off your bodies.

he rolled over next to you, heavy breathing.

“… can i ride?”

god, he loved you, “yeah, bunny.”

you woke up in with sore legs and a hazy mind, only clothed by satoru’s big shirt and clean panties. you felt the muscular arm of satoru wrapped around you, pulling you close into his chest. you turned over, facing him and watching his eyes flutter at you.

“hi.” you smiled, saccharine like you had gotten away with something.

“hey, sweets.”

a/n

“BOO BORING ENDING” SHHHHH 🤫🤫🤫🙏 this took me so fucking long to write ,APOLOGIES!!!! depression is a torture i cannot escape but at least i have lover boy satoru

very very very loosely inspired by the song, “a little death, the neighbourhood.”

[vampzity]

sfw alphabet with felix

pairing: bf! felix x f! reader

💌: i seen this on my feed and wanted to give it a try! the sfw ones are soo cute, maybe ill do a nsfw one later hehe. this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit so enjoy!

a — affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

felix makes sure you’re loved every second of the day. he goes out of his way to tell you he loves you, send you sweet messages when you guys aren’t together and bake you brownies for absolutely no occasion. he gets shy expressing how he feels at first, but it eventually becomes 2nd nature to him.

b — beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

believe it or not he’s very honest. i mean he’s a virgo, what do you expect? whenever you need advice, he’ll give you the honest truth but still supports you no matter what decision you decide to make. you’d start being friends after being partnered up in culinary and he’s telling you that you’re baking the brownies all wrong haha

c — cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

felix loves to cuddle; whether that’s in bed, on the couch. he loves to be spooned by you as it gives him a sense of security. though he has no problem spooning you either. he’ll give you small pecks on your back and shoulder, snuggling his head into your back. even on the couch, he loves laying his head in your lap so you can play with his hair. it puts him to sleep so quickly.

d — domestic (does he want to settle down? how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

yes!!! felix has waited for the day he’s met “the one” to which he thinks that’s you. he’s sweating, hes nervous, he’s a hot mess trying to propose to you, but in the end it’s all worth it. he’s gotta be the best cook— in fact, he gets mad when you cook for him as he believes it should be the other way around. he’ll clean when needed and when asked, though he always feels you do a better job of it than him. He absolutely hates washing dishes after cooking though, which is why you do them.

e — ending (if he had to break up with you, how would he do it?)

he wouldn’t want to, it would literally kill him inside just thinking about breaking your heart. he would make sure you were comfortable, and that this is a decision the two of you truly wanted. he’d let you down easy, but still showing and giving you as much comfort as you need then and there. he knew it was hard for him, but it may be even harder on you.

f — fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

felix tends to be clingy to the one he loves. however he doesn’t want you to feel rushed into committing either. he’ll take it at your pace, understand what you do and don’t want, and accept if you aren’t ready for such a big step at all. although sometimes, nothing is holding him back.

g — gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

felix cares a lot for the people he loves. if you’re crying and need a shoulder, he’s there. when you want a hug, he’s there to wrap you like a blanket. he’s sure to lay soft kisses on your forehead before he leaves, he’ll run his thumb across your hand whenever you to sit in front of the tv he’s never been the aggressive type or the overly outgoing boyfriend. being home with you was his favorite type of night.

h — hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

oh he LOVES hugs! before you leave, before he leaves, before bedtime, even when either of you get home. he’s quick to hug you and he’ll hug you tight, like he hasn’t seen you in days. sometimes he just hugs you for no reason, just so he can bury his head into your neck and take in your sweet scent

i — i love you (how fast does he say i love you?)

it takes him a bit to say it, as he doesn’t want to push you or make you feel rushed in your relationship. however, he can’t hold himself back. he’s emotional, and he feels so much love toward you that he just can’t help but tell you right away.

j — jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

felix doesn’t like to show his jealousy. when he does get jealous, he keeps it to himself, however has no issues making snarky comments. a guy is offering you a drink from the bar? “can you even afford her taste?” a guy is complimenting your outfit? “thanks i paid $XXX.XX for it.” he didn’t like others thinking they coukd have their way with you. not when he already had it.

k — kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

felix loves giving you small pecks. anywhere. the nose, forehead, cheek, collarbones, palm. it was his way of showing you he loved you genuinely. sometimes they’re more sensual, the biting of your lip, a small tongue graze. he loves it when you kiss his cheeks and collarbone. his collarbone is so sharp, how couldn’t you admire it.

l — little ones (how is he around children?)

oh he loves them! it makes him feel like a child himself as he runs around playing tag, drawing on the side walk with chalk or even playing video games with them. he’s very soft with kids, and often lets them get their way as he can feel bad for them. he’d make a great dad— we’ve all seen that one video with him and chan..

m — morning (how are mornings spent around him?)

felix makes it a task to wake up earlier than you. especially when you work; he’ll make sure to have breakfast ready for you and your lunch already packed so you had enough time to eat breakfast with him. a few minutes before you wake up, he’d start running the shower to make sure the water was warm and on cold days he’d start your car so it was warm when you got in. most days, he’d even offer being your chauffeur. even if you didn’t work, it was the same cycle; making breakfast, taking care of the pets/children, and letting you sleep in.

n — night (how are nights spent with him?)

felix loves to eat dinner with you. it makes him feel closer with you as you two can share how your day was with each other. he even loves to shower with you; it doesn’t have to be anything sexual, it’s just the intimacy that makes him feel close with you. he loves to clean you, letting you stand there as he does all the work. however, he respects you wanting to shower alone too. he often offers to start running the water for you everytime. you two would lay in bed together, cuddling, speaking as either of you drifted off the sleep.

o — open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

it takes him a bit of time to open up— as he doesn’t wanna burden you. when he eventually does, it comes in small waves, things that perhaps trigger him to open up to you as he’s getting comfortable. and when he finally is? you cannot get him to shut up about his vulnerability LMAO

p — patience (how easily angered is he?)

felix can be pretty patient with you. he doesn’t like to start arguments or even argue with you. however when it comes to things that genuinely upset him, it can set him off just a bit. felix doesn’t like to take it out on you, but if he does he apologizes immediately.

q — quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail or is he forgetful?)

oh he remembers everything! from your favorite color, to your favorite holiday dish. even the name of your first pet. it’s important to him— cherishing the little things about you.

r — remember (what’s his favorite moment in the relationship?)

the day you both planned to tell each other how you felt. you both met up in a park— hands sweaty, clouds just a bit grey as you stood in front of each other. you both stuttered, insisting the other went first. just for you both to say it at the same time.

s — security (how protective is he; does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

felix doesn’t let anyone hurt you. he’s always looking out for you— not afraid to speak his kind when someone is rude to you or hurts your feelings. he’s usually a few steps ahead, making sure to keep anything you may need on hand. felix is a little sensitive, so expect to protect him quite often. there may be times where you have to reassure him and keep harmful comments away from him.

t — try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, everyday tasks etc?)

felix loves to plan dates! however anniversaries stress him out compared to normal dates. he still tries to put in his effort and make it as memorable as he can. He does the most to make sure you only have to do a little— cleaning up, making dinner, taking care of the kids/pets so you don’t have to. especially on days where you’re tired or on your monthly. if he had extra time, (either dates or anniversaries) he’ll make it a little fun game for you to find him. leaving you small notes or picking out the outfit for you to wear.

u — ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

he tends to spam you with pictures. and not jsut any pictures, literally random pictures. selfies, food, nature, random things on the street— there’s no telling what he’ll send you. he also tends to be hard on himself about his diet but you try to remind him that he’s perfect the way he is constantly. sometimes he just needs a little extra reminder.

v — vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

he tends to worry a lot about his body, wondering if he’s slim enough, if he’s gotten too fat. he’ll wonder if his face is too puffy and often come to you for a lifting of his spirits. of course you always do— you tell him he’s perfect the way he is, that he doesn’t need to change for anyone and no one should be forcing him to.

w — whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

100%!! you’re like his other half and he feels like a better version of himself with you. you keep him grounded, you make him feel things he’s never felt before. if he didn’t have you, everyrhing would feel out of place.

x — xtra (random headcanon for him)

the sweet quiet blonde boy who helps run his family’s bake shop. he absolutely adores you, infant always looks forward to seeing you come in to try something new. he has the biggest crush on you, and tries to find subtle ways to show it. acknowledge his feelings please !!

y — yuck (what are some things he wouldn’t like in general or in a partner?)

he doesn’t like liars, or people who try to pretend they’re someone they’re not. felix wants 100% honesty in his relationship, and doesn’t appreciate it when his partner tries to hide things behind his back.

z — zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

felix loves to cuddle. he’ll turn over and wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body for some comfort and warmth. It helps him sleep better. when you’re not here he’ll take one of your plushies— because of course it smells like you, and sleep with it. it brings him some comfort, but of course not the same as if you were there. he usually sleeps through the night, waking up early to make you breakfast. though he never minds a small nap time with you either.

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[sydnikov]

could we get some andrei smut where he gets rough in bed and takes his frustrations with the team’s losing streak out on you 😵‍💫🥵

a different kind of frustration || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov / fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, sports injury mention (torn ACL/ligament), cursing, I don’t think I proofread this at ALL I am so sorry

A/N: I got this request about a month before the trade deadline I think, when the canes were on their awful losing streak, but was just too lazy to finish it. Timeline is thus set around that time, even though we just got eliminated from the ecf (again)... In honor of his second career playoff hatty, though, this is dedicated to him! Went in a slightly different direction with this request but, enjoy 😏

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Losing grates on Andrei’s nerves like nothing else.

He hates it more than anything, especially when he can’t contribute. Nightmares of tearing his ACL still haunt him, creating noticeable apprehension in every stroke on the ice. There’s hesitation and fear that hinder his every movement, limiting the physicality he was once known for.

He hates it. Hates that he’s still nervous of making one wrong move, hates that it reflects in his play.

Now, Andrei does know he’s not solely responsible for his team’s production. He knows it takes every man, that they win as a team and that they lose as a team. Every conversation with his head coach assures him of this, and yet he still can’t help but wonder if it’s his fault.

“It is like,” He struggles to find the right words, clicking his tongue in frustration. “It’s like I know I can be physical. I know I’m better. But there is this block, and I can’t even lay a good hit anymore.”

You rub his arm sympathetically, a soft frown on your face as you listen to him vent. On an early Saturday afternoon in February, where the team had no practice and only a morning of film, you find yourself answering Andrei’s call to come over to his house.

Your relationship is still relatively new; just shy of three months, you’re very much still wrapped up in the honey-moon phase. Every part of him calls to you—his voice, his body, his gentle vulnerability he only shares with you…

And the sex. You flush just simply thinking about it, how he dominates you so sweetly in his bedroom. Andrei is the first man to ever make you come, and you hope that he’ll be the last, too.

“It doesn’t hurt, though, right? It’s not still giving you trouble and that’s why you’re nervous?” You ask, lightly scratching his bicep. Any physical touch you know he appreciates, so you try your best to comfort him in this way when he needs it.

Andrei shakes his head quickly. “No, no, it is all healed now. No pain or anything,” He reassures. “It’s just the thought of hurting it again, I think,”

You’re at a loss for what to say, you can’t lie. You don’t play competitive sports and don’t have much knowledge of mental blocks to give him good advice.

“And now the team is losing, and I can barely get a point per game to try and help.” He huffs, agitated as he runs his hand through his hair. Even as you’re sitting on the couch with him, a place where he should be relaxed, you can practically feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex every few seconds as if preparing for action.

“I’m sorry,” You murmur sympathetically, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder as you fully hug his arm to your chest. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Andrei turns his head to look at you, tilting his chin down slightly to press a gentle kiss to your lips. His smile is slight, deepening the kiss for only a moment before pulling back and looking at you fondly. “You help just by being here.”

There’s nothing but earnest devotion in his eyes as he looks at you, and you can’t help the blush that takes over your face at his words. His smile grows, if anything, and he wraps his arm fully around your waist to press you firmly into his side. His fingers stroke the skin revealed by your shirt riding up, an innocent motion as he turns back to look at whatever plays on his TV.

Despite having nothing but pure intentions, your body doesn’t get the memo and immediately heats up at his touch. You want to slap yourself, tell your brain ‘not now’ as you fight the urge to rub your thighs together.

He’s being vulnerable by opening up to you and you’re getting fucking horny, you groan to yourself, even though you can’t help your urges. You bite your lip as you try to follow along with whatever is playing, though that quickly turns futile when you begin to hyperfixate on his hand still rubbing your waist.

Suddenly, an idea comes to you in the midst of your horny-ness.

You and Andrei have a very, very healthy sex-life in your relationship—a week never goes by without your bodies tangled together, drawing out of you toe-curling pleasure that no one else ever has before. Some of your most memorable times are after games, though. Wins, losses, whatever emotion he’s feeling is amplified by the result of the game played.

Wins are passionate, drawn-out, and deep. Losses are frustrated, rough, and powerful. Both leave you satisfied, always craving more.

Recently, he’s been holding back in how he manhandles you in bed. You thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe he was into being more gentle now, but now you can’t help but wonder if his nervousness of being physical on the ice has somehow translated into fucking you, too.

You think you know how to help. Your heart races, now you the nervous one, as you take a deep breath to speak.

“Andrei,” You start, hesitant. “You’re nervous about being physical on the ice, basically, yeah?”

He turns his head to look at you, confused at the apprehension in your voice. “Yes,” He replies slowly, unsure of what direction the conversation is going.

This is where you freeze. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, eyes looking anywhere but at him, as you try to find the words to speak. Your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest, and you flinch when Andrei’s hand takes your chin, angling your head back up to meet his eyes.

He says your name lowly, thumb rubbing at the corner of your jaw. “What is it?”

The breath you let out is shallow, a little rough as you finally just blurt out what you’re thinking. “You can take your frustration out on me,” You quickly say. “It might make you feel better? Enough to do it in a game. Show yourself that you can be rough again,”

Andrei’s face is blank. There’s no clue at all to what he’s thinking which would definitely freak you out if you couldn’t see the way his eyes darken in real time, pupils swallowing brown as he thinks of a response. His grip on your chin tightens imperceptibly as if fighting the urge to hold you tighter.

He finally speaks after a long moment, licking his lips which immediately draws your attention to his mouth. “You want me to be rough?” He sounds almost pained, as if you were asking him to indulge in something he forbade himself from.

“Yeah,” You say, practically a whisper. Your noses brush together, the proximity sudden. “I think it’ll help.”

Andrei exhales, warm breath brushing against your cheeks. Your heart beats for a totally different reason now, your stomach tingling. “Yeah?” His hand slides from your chin to your neck, fingers large and thick as they gently bare down against your pulse.

“Let you do whatever you want to me,” You take initiative and swing your right leg over his hips, settling down in his lap as both his arms now move to wrap around your waist. “How does that sound?”

“Like you are trying to kill me.” He laughs roughly, looking up at you like you’re forbidden fruit. You rock your hips into his when he doesn’t say anything, smirking at the groan that comes from his chest. He reflexively bucks into you but his hands still don’t move from their spot at your waist. You huff, grabbing the hair at the back of his neck to tug.

“You don’t have to hold back, ‘Drei—s’just me.” Your hips find a slow, steady rhythm as you rock back and forth, his eyes now squinted shut, his cock eager and erect beneath you.

Andrei finally takes action at your words, large hands sliding down to grope your ass before roughly pushing you down onto him. A startled moan escapes your lips, and you quickly look to meet his eyes only to find him already looking at you.

You quickly lower your head to kiss him, molding your lips together with a sigh as he quickly takes over. One hand remains on your ass to help you keep rocking while the other slides up your spine, leaving tingles in its wake, before grasping the back of your neck to keep you pressed against him. You nip his bottom lip when he doesn’t do much else, seemingly content to merely dry-hump and kiss you, but now you want more.

Between your thighs is a slick mess, the steady friction to your clit making you desperate. You whine into his mouth at a well-timed thrust, the head of his cock hitting you just right even through the fabric of both your pants. “Andrei,” You hiss as his pace stays the same, squirming restlessly on his lap. “Fuck—okay, I know this is about you but now I—”

His chuckle interrupts you, all deep and masculine and it sends a shudder through your body. His lips move down your neck, leaving a wet trail in their wake of little bites and kisses. “What, baby? Need me to touch you now?”

Your plea is muffled when his lips meet yours again and you can barely muster the focus to kiss him back because now his hand is pushing your sweatpants down, so oversized they come down easily because they’re his. Large, calloused fingers find your pussy with ease, sweeping through the wetness that’s thoroughly soaked your panties.

Andrei pulls back from you to curse, lips kiss-swollen and flushed red. You’re sure yours mirror the same state. “Fuck,” He says, following that with Russian you can’t understand. “Lay down for me?” He asks, though doesn’t wait for a response before he’s moving you off his lap and onto your back, horizontal across his couch. Your sweats come off the rest of the way, now left in nothing but your panties and longsleeve top, though the latter is quick to join your pants.

His hands carress your legs, squeezing at your calves before finally arriving at your thighs and pushing them apart. His fingertips push under the hem of your panties, looking to you briefly before pulling them down your hips. At the sight of your bare pussy, glistening so pretty for him, he lets out a long breath.

“You’re soaking,” He says, enraptured at the sight. “Is this all for me? Been thinking about this for a while?”

Andrei chooses this as the moment to fully touch you, one of his hands leaving your hip to drag down your navel until his pointer finger finds your clit, touch feather-light. You jerk up into his hand, but he merely pushes you back down before moving lower to where you’re aching for him. There’s no resistance when he finally pushes in, two fingers curling upwards against your walls just to hear the whimper that comes out of you.

“Just want you to, fuck, feel better,” You gasp, once again pushing upwards with your hips until his remaining hand on your hip moves to your lower stomach and pushes you back back down, stronger this time.

He hums at your words, briefly looking to your face before dragging his eyes back down your body, landing on his fingers thrusting in and out of you. His tongue lays heavy on his bottom lip, hypnotized at the sight.

He wonders how many times he can get you to come with just his fingers before you can’t take anymore.

Andrei strokes you lazily, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Look at you, pretty thing,” He practically purrs. “Letting me do whatever I want to you. Good girl,” He inserts a third finger, pushing in to join the other two. You groan, shuddering around him, but his pace doesn’t pick up. He keeps the same, slow, patient movement, driving you utterly insane.

Perhaps you should’ve thought about what you were agreeing to… Andrei loves to tease, bring you to the brink before abruptly pulling back. He’ll do it so many times until your head goes blank, when the only word able to leave your mouth is his name.

“Andrei, please,” You beg, squirming under his steady hands.

“You want my cock?” He asks, pulling his fingers out of you just to lick off the taste of you. He murmurs something, too quiet for your ears to pick up on, then looks back down at you. “Or my fingers? My tongue?”

He’s firing all the suggestions rapidly, giving you no time to truly process what he’s asking. All you hear is ‘cock’ and it’s like a switch in your brain flips off, rendering you speechless. A pathetic whimper is all that comes out of you, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy clenches around nothing. You don’t realize how close Andrei is to you until you can feel his breath against your cheek, chest ever so softly brushing against you.

“Words, baby,” He says, almost patronizing. “I know you can use them,”

“Um,” You lick your lips, struggling to keep your eyes from shutting with pleasure. “You choose? This is for you, remember?”

Andrei pauses for a moment, as if he’d completely forgotten what you’d said to him to begin with now that he had you sprawled across his couch. He considers having you suck him off, loving the feeling of your warm, wet mouth moving up and down his cock, but then he looks down at your pussy again and quickly makes up his mind. There’s nothing that feels better than feeling you squeeze so perfectly tight around him.

“This is for me,” Andrei echoes, his words quiet and thoughtful as he begins shoving his own sweats down his hips. “And do you know what I want?”

You open your eyes to find him already staring at you, his pupils blown so wide you can't even recognize the brown in them anymore.

You swallow roughly, licking your lips. “What do you want?”

“I want to fuck you,” He answers assuredly, suddenly grabbing a hold of your legs and moving them to curl around his waist. His shirt comes off next, leaving you drooling at the hard lines of his abdomen on display.

All that’s left are his boxers, but those too are quickly removed and then he’s looming over you. He finds his favorite spot on your neck, sucking a harsh mark into your collarbone while grinding against you. Your tits are given attention too, sucking your right nipple into his mouth while one of his hands plays with the left. His free hand grasps your hip tightly, keeping you pressed against him.

His cock, now free of all barriers, rubs against you with a slick sound that has your face flushing red. You whine as Andrei finally takes his cock in hand, guiding the head towards your throbbing pussy.

The sigh that leaves your lungs is shaky with pleasure as he slowly spreads you open. You open your legs wider to make the intrusion more welcome, your walls fluttering around him as he takes his time sinking to the base. When his hips are finally flush with yours, you buck your own upwards to encourage him to move. 

“Fuck,” Andrei mutters under his breath. “You feel so fucking good.”

He slowly rocks into you, his pace teasingly gentle. “Please move,” You gasp, your left hand incessantly tugging his hair. Your other hand holds onto his right bicep, sinking your nails into the thick muscle without thought.

He merely chuckles at your begging, humming low under his breath as he kisses up the side of your neck until reaching your ear. “Baby I am moving,” Emphasizing his words with a quick thrust of his hips, he grinds into you at a maddeningly slow pace.

Andrei starts to move his head back down your body, but at this point you’re past caring about keeping your composure and grab onto his hair even tighter, dragging him back up until your lips are just barely pressing together.

“Too scared to get rough?” You taunt, though you’re careful to watch his face to make sure you don’t overstep. “Thought that’s what you wanted to do?”

Apprehension dawns on his face, directed towards himself rather than you. You realize he needs more help getting past whatever mental block he has left, and quickly decide to just go all out.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you squeeze his hips tightly and jerk him towards you. “Andrei please,” You whine dramatically, arching your back which indirectly puts your tits closer to his face. “Please fuck me, I need it so bad,”

His face quickly turns from apprehensive to almost pained instead, like he’s still trying to resist letting go. You’re well past the point of desperation now as your voice quickly grows in pitch. “Please please please please please—”

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Andrei is quick to interrupt, immediately shutting you up with a bruising kiss that takes your breath away. “Fuck you’re desperate, aren’t you? Need me to fuck you that badly?”

You nod your head rapidly, feeling your pussy clench tightly at the mere suggestion. “Need it so bad,” You breathe into his mouth, moaning as nips your bottom lip.

A noise that resembles a laugh escapes his mouth then, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath before sliding his hands underneath your ass, hiking your hips up and off the couch so there’s no empty space left between you.

The sound you let out is totally out of your control when he finally starts moving, a harsh thrust that drags against your clit when his hips finally slam back down. The slick sound of his cock sliding home has your face flushing red, your pussy only getting wetter as his tip hits your g-spot.

“‘Drei,” You say, both hands now dragging down his back and leaving harsh lines in their wake. “Please don’t stop, feels so good,”

Andrei stutters out a groan, hips bucking involuntarily at the pleas falling from your mouth. His pace picks up instantly, so fast and solid you’re unable to stop from crying out as he drills into you. He hides his head in your neck, sucking at a spot on your shoulder while you lay there helplessly and take it.

It’s good. It’s so good; the angle, the way he feels inside you, and you’re close so close so close so close but then he’s pulling out, the wet sound of your pussy following his abrupt exit drowned out by your protests.

“What the fuck—?” You cry out, momentarily forgetting that you cumming came second. You’re not left wondering for long, however, for Andrei’s hands are grabbing your hips and flipping you over onto your stomach before you even have a chance to blink. “Oh,” You lament, a pleased sigh turning into a moan as his cock enters you again, this time from behind.

He’s deeper, and hits so much harder when he leans over you and presses his chest to your back. You arch your ass upwards to feel him better, hiding your face in the couch cushion when his voice makes its way to your ear. “I love this view,” He whispers. “You look so hot, baby,”

“Fuck,” You say, biting down on said couch cushion. “Fuck, I’m close.” Your lower stomach tingles, your pussy beginning to squeeze him harshly while your toes curl into your feet so hard it hurts.

Your words somehow unlock a new wave of determination in Andrei. His eyes shut in concentration as he focuses on railing perfectly into your special spot. His cock burns with pleasure and his arms curl around your stomach tightly without concern if you can breathe, only wanting to make you cum before he himself can follow.

He’ll never let you leave without an orgasm. He’d die before letting that happen.

Words of encouragement soon start falling from his lips, almost too sweet for how dirty the act of fucking each other truly is. “Pretty girl,” He coos. “I know you’re close. Can feel it, you’re so fucking tight around me,”

All you can respond with is a quiet whine.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” Andrei doesn’t expect a response, just listens to your breathing and feels how tense your muscles are beneath him, preparing for release. You’re wound so tight he wonders if you’ll even let yourself come—maybe you just need a little extra stimulation.

He gets a sudden idea and doesn’t hesitate before sliding one of his hands down from where it’s been pressed against your stomach, easily finding your clit thoroughly soaked in your wetness. You jerk so hard when his fingers brush against it that he has to crush you against him and you can barely breathe in his tight hold but find that it only makes you wetter, being forced to take it.

“Come on, baby, come for me,” He whispers in your ear, practically begging. “You can do it. I know you can—there it is, what a good girl…”

Andrei’s voice in your ear, in your head, in your heart, and you come. You come so fucking hard you aren’t aware of anything else but pure ecstasy shooting through your veins, lighting every one of your senses on fire until you’re nothing but jelly underneath him.

Your body twitches at every touch against your skin, your high slowly coming down all while he talks you through it. You can’t muster the energy to respond until his hand is brushing your hair out of your face, stuck to your face from sweat.

The next thing you know he’s moving your bodies into a sitting position, his back against the couch while your back rests against his front. You finally open your eyes at this, a long, heavy breath sucking life back into you. “There you go, take your time,” he says. “Are you okay?”

How he’s able to go from dominating and powerful to sweet and nurturing never fails to amaze you, and you’re obviously appreciative for it as your body comes down from the high he brought you to in the first place.

“Yeah. But I think I saw God there for a minute,”

“There’s no God, baby, just me.” Andrei replies cockily,  the smirk in his voice so obvious you can’t help but roll your eyes.

The two of you sit in silence, letting your heart rates slow and your bodies cool. It isn’t until you begin to feel uncomfortable with the remaining wetness between your legs that you finally make the movement to stand, though not without a teasing shake of your hips just to hear his quiet groan.

You tell him you’re off to pee, ignoring the Russian muttering under his breath he’s prone to do when you leave him wanting, only taking a few moments to clean yourself up. You then walk back into the living room, still naked as the day you were born before grabbing your shirt and sweats off the floor. Your panties remain abandoned, because… Yeah, you aren’t putting those back on.

Andrei has slid his own sweats back on - still shirtless though - by the time you join him back on the couch. He opens his arms for you without word, tugging you close to him with a sigh as you relax against him.

“Did that help?” You ask quietly, a little meek. “Being rough, I mean. I know it felt good for me, obviously, but the whole point was for you—”

“Baby?”

“—yes?”

“Hush.” He states, then without a moment’s notice is turing your head towards him to capture your lips in a long, deep kiss. It’s lazy the way your lips move against each other, slow and messy yet anything but passionate. His appreciation comes through in the soft moans you hear coming from his chest, his beating heart you’re able to feel through his body, and the thank you’s he gently whispers in the space between you.

Later that night, when you’re curled up in bed next to him about to fall asleep, he asks, “How did you know that would help?”

Luckily, you don’t have to think about your answer for long. “You were just frustrated, baby. Just had to find a different way to work it out of your system.”

Andrei hums, contemplating your reply. He doesn’t reply verbally, just holds you tighter, but the smile on his face is anything but innocent. Despicable, so full of mischief that he knew if you saw would immediately result in a smack on the arm.

“I think I will be frustrated more often, yeah?”

The smack on his arm, at that point, was imminent.

A/N: Lowkey uni has actually destroyed all of my creative writing desire but I’m trying so hard to fight back 🙏 this one isn’t my favorite but I hope y’all liked it, as always pls reblog & comment :)

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[astrakim]

The Space Between Us

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

enemies to lovers | slow burn | bed-sharing | fluff, angst, emotional smut

>genre: childhood rivals to lovers,

friends-forced-to-share-a-bed, emotional tension,

slow burn

>word count: 17.9k [combined]

>summary: They started as neighbors. Then came a stupid night - and suddenly, Heeseung and Y/N were enemies. Years of rivalry, endless tension, and a thousand unspoken feelings between them.

When a group trip forces them to share a bed, everything changes. Jealousy flares. Secrets unravel. And the line between hate and desire blurs in ways neither of them expected.

What if the enemy was never really the enemy?

>series warnings: suggestive tension, mutual pining, soft vulnerability, swearing, kissing, a lot of staring, protected sex (wrap it yall), oral (f.rec), fingering, heeseung is a flirt, misunderstanding, Sunoo lowkey OR highkey being a menace matchmaker, thats all ig let me know if I should add anything.

Reblogs and likes are really appreciated!

Enjoy your read!

Day 4:

The group decides on something calmer for next day: A lakeside picnic spot about thirty minutes from the cabin. Sunoo insists it’s “aesthetic and peaceful,” but I know it's just an excuse for another million candids and stories for his socials.

The van ride is chaos again. Sunghoon tries to DJ, Jake eats half a pack of gummy worms before noon, and someone’s foot ends up on my thigh — again.

“Can we not do this every time?” I mutter, shoving Heeseung’s leg off me.

He just smirks. “You didn’t mind yesterday.”

I don’t dignify it with a response, but the flush crawling up my neck gives me away.

When we arrive, the lake shimmers under the sunlight, trees swaying, and a few boats bobbing on the water. Everyone scatters — some heading for paddle boats, some for hammocks, some to set up the food.

I think I’ve escaped into peace until I hear:

“Y/N and Heeseung — you’re on firewood duty!”

“Why us?” I groan.

“Because watching you two carry logs and not kill each other is entertainment,” Sunoo yells from his picnic blanket.

Heeseung’s already beside me, smug and ready.

“This feels like punishment,” I mutter.

He falls in step beside me as we walk into the shaded woods. Our steps are quiet. So is the air between us.

I pick up a branch. “Don’t even think about throwing leaves at me.”

Heeseung grabs one anyway. “But your hair would look good with them.”

I squint at him. “Was that a compliment?”

“Wasn’t, not a compliment.”

And just like that, we’re bantering again. But it’s lighter. The jabs don’t hit like they used to. Every teasing line is dipped in something softer, like we’re testing how much of our old friendship still exists beneath the sharp edges.

Later, back at the lake, I’m standing near the dock when Jake comes up beside me. We’re laughing at something — maybe a squirrel stealing food — when I feel it.

Eyes.

I glance over and see Heeseung across the water, sunglasses perched low on his nose, arms crossed, but he’s definitely watching. When Jake nudges my arm, Heeseung tilts his head and turns away, just a second too late.

He’s jealous.

Not the tantrum kind. The quiet, seething kind. The kind that doesn’t ask for attention but demands it anyway.

It weirdly makes me... smile.

---

We’re roasting marshmallows later— again, everyone circling the campfire. The mood is golden and warm, literal and emotional. Heeseung sits beside me this time, not across. Our knees bump once. Neither of us moves.

When I try to toast a marshmallow and it falls in the fire, he slides his perfectly roasted one onto my stick. Doesn’t say anything. Just... does it.

I turn to him. “You’re being weird.”

He shrugs. “I’m just being nice.”

“No, you’re never just nice.”

He grins, leans a little closer. “Maybe I’m trying to impress someone.”

The air shifts.

My stomach flips.

I swallow. “Try harder.”

Heeseung laughs, low and real, and then — he bumps his shoulder into mine. Not hard. Just enough to make me sway.

“Cute fox looks good on your bag, by the way,” he says, pointing at the plush I’ve kept tied to the strap.

I roll my eyes. “Stop flirting.”

“I’m not,” he says, grinning wider. “You’d know if I was.”

—

That night, the bed feels too warm and not wide enough. We’re still not touching — but we’re closer than we’ve ever been.

I lie awake a while, listening to the soft rhythm of his breath.

He shifts. “Still awake?”

“Mmhm.”

“Thinking about how you stole my marshmallow?”

I smile into my pillow. “Thinking about throwing another one at your face.”

He chuckles, then after a pause: “You’re easier to talk to now.”

“Is that an insult?”

“No,” he says, softer. “It’s a relief.”

My heart does something stupid in my chest.

I keep staring at him

“What?” he asks, quirking a brow his tone suddenly teasing.

“Your hair. You look like an anime character.”

He tosses the pillow at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I grin. “You’re not the main character, Lee.”

“Right. I’m the misunderstood rival. Girls love that.”

I throw a pillow back at him. It’s playful. So is the grin he sends back.

Eventually, we settle into bed. Only one pillow between us this time. The silence is a little thicker, not with tension — but with something else. Awareness.

“I bet you dream about me,” he says suddenly.

I turn to glare at him. “Why would you say that?”

He smirks, rolling onto his side to face me. “Just a hunch. You talk in your sleep.”

“I do not.”

“You do. Last night? Mumbled something like ‘shut up, Heeseung’ in your dreams. Kind of sweet, actually.”

I stare at him. “I will kill you in your sleep.”

But the corners of my mouth betray me. I'm smiling again. He sees it, and for a beat, the room quiets.

He doesn’t break eye contact. “You’re not that hard to read anymore.”

I blink. “Is that a challenge?”

“No,” he says, soft. “It’s a compliment.”

And with that, he rolls over and turns off the lamp.

I lie awake a little longer, wondering when his voice started sounding like a memory I missed.

Thinking about how her little crush on her stupid rival neighbour who also had the power of making her heart do somersaults or her nights a little intense ( which she will never agree to) when she stared at him through her window —not staking accidently grazing her eyes at him, his hands, at the way he’s……

She snaps out when she feels heeseung move in his sleep, fluster to even think about him like that when he’s right besides him close, too close.

Cursing herself she starts to fall asleep trying not to think about how good he smells besides her.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Day 5:

Sunoo’s voice was practically vibrating. “Okay, listen, I found this place online last night—it’s like a secret riverside town or something. Boats, food, a forest trail. All cute stuff. We’re going.”

No one objected, especially not Y/N, who was just glad for a distraction from the awkward energy that still lingered after last night’s shared-bed tension. She kept her eyes firmly away from Heeseung at breakfast, but she could feel him looking. Of course he was.

The riverside was annoyingly pretty. Colorful little boats bumped gently along the docks, and the air smelled like grilled shrimp and damp stone. There were tiny shops tucked between wooden cabins, and vines growing wild along hand-carved bridges.

Y/N walked with the group until someone slowed beside her. She didn’t have to look to know.

“You always stare at the water like it stole your dog?” Heeseung said casually.

“Do you always sneak up like a serial killer?” she shot back.

He just smirked. “Only when the victim’s cute.”

She blinked. “Are you—”

“Flirting? Yeah.” He turned ahead again, hands in his pockets. “Try to keep up.”

And she did. Except her thoughts kept circling. This wasn’t how it used to be. They used to bicker like it was war. Now... it felt like he was teasing her. Pulling at something soft. And she hated how her chest reacted like a traitor every single time.

The others eventually broke off to check out a bridge market while Sunghoon and Sunoo went scouting for the so-called “secret fireworks hill.” Y/N sat on the low stone wall by the river, catching her breath, watching the gold glint of water.

A shadow fell over her shoulder.

“Mind if I—” Heeseung didn’t finish the sentence, just sat beside her.

They were quiet. Long enough for her to forget they were supposed to hate each other.

“You’ve got something on your face,” he said finally, and she looked at him in time to see him reach out—slow, deliberate—and swipe a grain of sugar from the corner of her mouth.

She froze.

He didn’t pull away.

Their faces were close. Too close. That look in his eyes—Y/N had seen it before in mirrors, late at night, when she swore she’d moved on. But it was here now, right in front of her, and it made her stomach twist painfully.

Before anything else could happen, Sunoo’s voice called from a distance. “You guys coming or are you gonna have a whole moment down there?”

They jumped apart. Y/N stood too fast. “Yeah—coming! Not having a moment!”

Heeseung just laughed softly behind her, and she hated that it made her want to smile.

The sky was cotton blue with frayed white clouds hanging like lazy thoughts. The morning breeze rolled off the river, carrying a coolness that nipped pleasantly at Y/N’s skin as she stepped out of the van.

“This place is unreal,” Sunoo practically squealed, spinning in a full circle as the group filed out behind him.

It was a quiet riverside town tucked into the folds of a wooded valley. Not touristy — more like something you stumbled on by accident and didn’t tell anyone else about because it felt too precious. There were cobbled paths, floating food stalls, tiny bridges laced with vines, and the faint smell of charcoal-grilled seafood in the air. The river moved slow and wide, mirroring the sleepy rhythm of the town.

Heeseung stretched with a yawn, shirt riding just enough to make Y/N’s gaze flick away too fast. Unfortunately, she caught Sunghoon smirking at her.

“I’m fine,” she blurted before he said anything.

“Didn’t say a word,” he said, smiling knowingly.

Y/N turned to Sunoo instead, pretending she hadn’t just been caught thirsting over her mortal enemy. “What’s the plan, captain?”

Sunoo grinned, clapping his hands. “Alright, split into pairs or something. Float market’s that way. There’s a forest trail with a lookout point, and apparently fireworks happen at sunset — very spontaneous and romantic,” he added with a not-so-subtle look between her and Heeseung.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You people are exhausting.”

“You’re welcome,” Sunoo chirped. “Go fall in love or whatever.”

She slipped off toward the riverside with her hands shoved in her pockets, walking just far enough to feel alone — until a voice came up from behind, cocky and warm.

“You always stare at the water like it owes you money?”

She didn’t turn. “You always follow people like a stray?”

Heeseung stepped beside her anyway, way too comfortable in his loose cream tee and that godforsaken smirk. “Only when they look like they’re trying not to cry in public.”

“I’m not crying.”

“I said trying.”

She looked at him properly then — the sunlight catching on his lashes, hair wind-mussed, face open and unreadable all at once. He wasn’t smiling now. Just... watching her.

“What?” she said flatly.

“You’re quieter today,” he said. “Almost feels illegal.”

“Maybe I’m tired of arguing.”

“Or,” he said, angling his head, “you’re scared I’ll win.”

She snorted. “That’s generous of you.”

But still, she didn’t walk away. And neither did he.

They wandered the market with the others — or at least near enough. Heeseung always seemed to drift close whenever she stopped. They kept bickering, of course, about whether mango is a superior fruit (it is), or whether she looked weird walking with her hands behind her back (she didn’t). But the edge was missing. Somewhere, in the space between shared marshmallows and late-night pillow fights, the fight had dulled into something... tentative.

Like they weren’t enemies anymore. Just two people who didn’t know what to do with all the tension left behind.

Y/N stood near a vendor selling steamed buns when a grain of sugar got stuck at the corner of her mouth. She went to wipe it—

Heeseung’s fingers beat her to it.

She froze, eyes darting up to meet his. His hand moved slow, wiping the sugar like it was deliberate — like he wanted her to notice his touch.

She did.

“You’re staring again,” she murmured, voice suddenly dry.

“You’re letting me,” he said, not moving.

“Guys!” Sunoo’s voice broke the spell like a hammer. “Come on! We found the lookout. Fireworks start in like— 3 hour! We have to have our lunch before. Move your asses!”

Heeseung stepped back. His hand fell away.

Y/N swallowed. “I wasn’t—”

“No, yeah,” he said quickly. “We should... yeah.”

They followed the others towards their lunch spot.

—

After lunch, the group decided to explore a scenic hiking trail Sunoo had found online — full of lookout spots, wildflower fields, and riverside photo ops. Everyone was buzzing with excitement, and Sunoo was already mapping out where to get the best selfies.

Y/N was chatting with Jake near the trailhead, laughing as he mimicked Sunghoon’s grumpy morning routine. “He literally walked out with one eye open and cursed the sun,” Jake said.

“It was way too early,” Y/N giggled. “You looked like a zombie, too.”

Jake gave a mock offended gasp. “Excuse you, I looked like a charming, forest-dwelling prince.”

“You looked like you needed three espressos and a reality check.”

As they laughed, Heeseung’s eyes followed them.

He had been leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, sipping water and pretending he wasn’t watching her. But his jaw tightened slightly. He wasn’t stupid — Jake was charming, easy-going, and worse, comfortable around Y/N in a way that didn’t make her roll her eyes every five seconds. She smiled differently around him. And even if it was probably nothing, Heeseung hated it.

Sunghoon called, “Let’s get moving before Sunoo turns into a GPS again.”

The group started walking, Y/N still by Jake’s side.

Heeseung casually walked faster, slipping between Jay and Sunoo until he was right beside her. He matched her pace like it was effortless.

“You really hanging around Jake all day now?” he said under his breath, just enough for her to hear.

She looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t realize there were assigned seats for trails now.”

Heeseung smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just saying. He’s not that funny.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You’re jealous.”

“Of Jake?” He scoffed. “Please.”

She leaned closer, taunting, “You so are.”

He turned to her fully now, walking backward with a smug grin. “If I wanted your attention, Y/N, I wouldn’t have to fight Jake for it.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow. “Confident today, are we?”

“I’m always confident,” he said, winking.

She was about to fire back something biting when a butterfly fluttered past them, and Heeseung — smug bastard — gently caught it on his palm, holding it out to her.

“See?” he said. “Even nature wants me to be your favorite.”

Jake, up ahead, yelled, “Y/N! Come take a selfie!”

Heeseung immediately stepped closer, his hand grazing hers as he brushed past. “Nah, she’s busy.”

She blinked. “I can answer for myself, you know.”

He just tilted his head. “Can you, though?”

Her heart flipped in her chest. He was so close — that familiar teasing tone back, but there was something new behind it. An edge. A silent dare. A new tension.

And when Jake looked back, confused, Y/N just waved him off and kept walking.

Heeseung smiled to himself.

Point, Lee Heeseung.

They followed the others up a stone path that led into the trees, the air turning cooler and dimmer as branches wove together overhead. The tension didn’t disappear — it wrapped tighter around them, quieter now. Like something alive between the spaces where words used to go.

—

By the time they reached the trailhead, the sun had dipped low enough to set the river ablaze in gold. The trees filtered the light into a haze, casting long shadows across the mossy path. It wasn’t steep, but the walk made everyone slow down, breath syncing with the rustle of leaves overhead.

Y/N was walking just ahead of Heeseung when she heard him mutter behind her, “You’re not gonna survive the climb in those shoes.”

She turned. “I have survived this far.”

“Barely,” he said, nudging a rock with the tip of his shoe. “Not my fault if you sprain an ankle and end up rolling back down like a dramatic rom-com montage.”

“Oh please. If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.”

He smirked. “Promises, promises.”

The trees around them stretched higher, the canopy thickening. The others were chatting ahead — Jay and Sunghoon deep in some debate, Sunoo yelling at Jake to stop picking wild berries unless he wanted to hallucinate in front of everyone.

Y/N slowed down, letting her fingers trail against a branch. “You flirt a lot, you know.”

Heeseung glanced sideways at her, unbothered. “You’re the only one I do it with.”

She blinked.

His eyes twinkled, smug. “What? You think I talk about people rolling down hills with Jay?”

“No, I—”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “Special treatment, sweetheart.”

God, she hated how fast her cheeks warmed at that.

He didn’t say anything more. Just kept walking beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. They didn’t touch, but their arms brushed once or twice — accidentally, but not entirely.

The lookout was a clearing of flat stone, surrounded by a ring of pine trees. The river glittered below, the town just distant enough to look like a watercolor. Someone had already left old benches and a few foldable stools, probably for tourists who stumbled on this place.

The group dropped their bags, half sitting, half sprawled on the grass.

Jake tossed a soda to Y/N, then another to Heeseung. “You two are finally not arguing,” he said. “Weird.”

“We’re maturing,” Heeseung deadpanned.

Y/N added, “Or we’re planning each other’s assassinations. Who knows.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Just kiss already.”

“What?!” she and Heeseung said in unison, nearly choking on their drinks.

Sunoo burst into laughter. “Oh my god, that was so synchronized. I swear your mouths are always in sync except when your brains are.”

Y/N turned to glare at him, but he was already grinning like a gremlin, fully enjoying the chaos. Jay muttered something about “a decade of tension,” while Jake pretended to be a wedding officiant.

“I’m going to kill all of you,” Y/N announced, standing.

But she couldn’t shake the way Heeseung had gone quiet beside her. Not awkward — just... thoughtful.

When the group started heading toward a nearby field where the fireworks were supposed to be, Y/N got momentarily distracted reading a sign about local bird species. She was only ten seconds behind, but the trail split ahead. And when she followed the wrong fork, she didn’t realize until she looked up and saw a clearing — and no one else in it.

Just Heeseung.

He was already there, sitting at the edge of a wooden dock that jutted into the wide river.

“How are you here?” she asked.

He turned slightly. “Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Everyone else went the other way.”

Heeseung shrugged. “Guess we took the better detour.”

The quiet settled thick again, not awkward anymore — just dense. Like neither of them could breathe the same way when they were alone like this.

He nodded to the dock. “You coming or what?”

She hesitated, then sat down beside him — feet dangling just above the water. It was still warm from the day, but the breeze had turned cooler. Distant voices echoed somewhere upstream, but here, it was just them.

The first firework cracked open the sky with a low boom — red, then silver, exploding across the clouds.

Y/N gasped, leaning forward. “I didn’t think we’d get to see them from here.”

Heeseung glanced at her — not at the sky, not at the river.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered.

“It is,” he said.

She turned to him. His eyes were already on her.

And he hadn’t been talking about the fireworks.

Her breath caught.

She knew this look. She’d seen it in flashes, stolen glances, late nights in their shared room when neither of them were asleep. But this was different. This wasn’t teasing or smugness or games.

This was bare. Open.

“You’re looking at me like I’ll disappear,” she whispered.

“I don’t want you to,” he said simply.

Her heart hammered in her chest — loud enough that she was afraid he could hear it. Or maybe he did, because he leaned closer, just a breath away now.

And when she didn’t move — didn’t stop him — he closed the gap.

His lips met hers like they’d been waiting years.

Soft at first. A question. A touch that asked, are you sure?

And her answer was in the way her hands moved to his chest, not to push, but to pull him closer.

The fireworks exploded again, louder this time — a fanfare of gold and blue behind her closed eyelids. She didn’t see them. She felt everything else.

But then she broke away.

Just slightly.

Heeseung’s breath was ragged against her cheek.

They stared at each other, too many thoughts colliding all at once. Her fingers still clutched the fabric of his shirt. His hand was still at the back of her neck.

“I—” she started.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, standing.

She blinked. “What?”

“We should go find the others,” he said, voice tight.

The fireworks continued in the background, bright and loud and completely wrong now.

“Right,” she murmured. “Yeah.”

Neither of them looked at each other the same way the rest of the walk back.

And when they returned to the group — who were too distracted by the fireworks finale to notice their shift in energy — neither of them said a word.

Jake threw an arm around Heeseung’s shoulder, saying something about sparklers and snacks.

Sunoo asked Y/N if she had fun. She said yes. Lied easily.

But when she glanced over, Heeseung was already looking at her — and then he looked away just as fast.

Something had changed.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.

—---

They didn’t walk too close on the way back.

Every time their hands accidentally brushed, one of them would flinch. Every time they tried to speak, nothing came out.

The fireworks had ended, but the tension lingered in the air like smoke—dense and unspoken.

By the time they reached the campsite, their friends were still up—laughing over card games and late-night snacks like the night hadn’t just cracked open for two people quietly falling apart.

And Heeseung—he smiled. He laughed at something Sunghoon said. He passed Jake a marshmallow like everything was fine.

It made Y/N’s stomach twist.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe for him to look at her differently. Maybe for him to pull her aside, to ask if she was okay or if she felt what he felt. Maybe for something—anything—to make that kiss make sense.

But he didn’t.

And she didn’t ask.

Instead, they ignored each other. Just enough to be obvious. Just enough for everyone to notice.

“Okay,” Sunoo whispered, brushing his teeth beside her in the bathroom later that night. “What happened?”

Y/N stared into the mirror, silent.

“You two have been walking around like you kissed and now regret existing.”

Y/N scoffed. “We didn’t— I mean… nothing happened.”

He gave her a look. “Right.”

“Talk it out with him, at least try to yeah?”

Y/n just nodded not able to say anything.

After some time Sunoo dragged everyone to go to the lake for stargazing.

The lake shimmered quietly in the moonlight. Y/N sat on the edge of the dock, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes fixed on the black water that rippled with every passing breeze. She could feel Heeseung behind her, close enough to feel the weight of his silence, but not close enough to touch.

He sat down beside her without a word.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

The air was heavy.

Not just with tension — but with everything they hadn’t said for years.

“You wanted to talk,” Heeseung finally said.

Y/N exhaled. “Yeah.”

She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

They sat by the lake, where the moonlight shimmered on the water and the rest of the world faded into silence.

It had taken days to build up to this. Days of shared beds and near-misses. Of one kiss under fireworks and an ocean of confusion since.

Y/N drew in a breath, staring at the rippling water. “Why did you stop talking to me back then?”

Heeseung flinched like she’d slapped him. “I didn’t know how to explain it.”

She turned to him. “Try.”

Heeseung’s shoulders dropped. His voice was rough, quieter than the breeze. “That night we hung out — before high school started… the movie, the snacks, that stupid blanket fort. It felt different. Like... more.”

Y/N’s heart ached. “It did.”

He looked at her then, eyes sharp with surprise. “You thought so too?”

“Of course I did,” she said, almost angrily. “And then you ghosted me.”

He looked away again, jaw clenched. “I thought you didn’t feel the same. I thought… if I stuck around, I’d ruin it. Or make it worse.”

She stared at him. “So your solution was to vanish?”

“I was fifteen and stupid,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what I was feeling, and then I overheard you—by the lockers.”

Her breath caught. “What did you hear?”

“You told your friend it was a weird night. That it didn’t matter.”

Y/N blinked. “Heeseung, I said it was a weird night because you ghosted me. Because I didn’t understand what I did wrong.”

He froze.

“I was hurt,” she whispered. “You were suddenly cold. Like none of it meant anything to you. I said it was weird because it was. You acted like we never meant anything.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then— “So I messed it up twice.”

Y/N gave a small, broken laugh. “Yeah. I guess we both did.”

They sat in silence again, softer this time. The space between them wasn’t angry anymore — it was filled with something that almost felt like mourning. Mourning the years lost to a misunderstanding.

Heeseung looked down at his hands. “I thought you hated me.”

“I thought you forgot me.”

Their eyes met.

And it finally made sense — the tension, the years of bickering, the careful distance that never let either of them move on.

Y/N exhaled shakily. “It was never hate.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched into a sad, crooked smile. “No. Never.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers. He didn’t move away this time.

For the first time in years, the silence felt okay.

And when they walked back to the cabin that night — still not quite holding hands, still not quite ready to say what was blooming between them — the weight between them felt lighter.

Like something old had finally healed.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

By the time they made it back to the room, the others had all gone quiet. Lights were dimmed. A few whispers and laughter trickled out from the hallway, but their room was still.

Y/N stepped inside first, the weight of their conversation still settling in her chest. Heeseung followed behind her, his movements quieter than usual.

She reached for her bag, voice barely above a murmur. “I’m gonna shower first. That okay?”

He nodded, already turning toward the bed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Her fingers paused on her towel, heart flickering. He still said things like that — softly, without thinking, like it was second nature to put her first.

In the bathroom, the hot water did nothing to settle the way her chest felt twisted. Not quite hurt, not quite healed. But lighter. They’d said the things they’d never dared to say — finally peeled back the years of silence and seen what was still there beneath it.

When she stepped back into the room, towel around her shoulders, she found him lying on the bed — this time on his back, one arm resting across his forehead.

He turned his head toward her. “All yours.”

She climbed into her side of the bed — though it felt strange calling it sides now. The line between them had been crossed, erased, and redrawn so many times she didn’t know where it even existed anymore.

They lay in silence for a moment, the fan humming gently in the background.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Thanks. For talking to me earlier.”

Heeseung let out a breath. “I should’ve said something a long time ago.”

She looked over at him. “You’re not the only one who messed up, you know.”

He turned toward her now, propping himself up slightly. “Yeah. But I was the one who ran away.”

She gave him a small smile. “You’re here now.”

And for the first time in days, Heeseung smiled back — soft, hesitant, but real.

“I won’t run again,” he said quietly. “Even if it’s weird. Even if we don’t know what this is.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered. She nodded, pulling the blanket a little closer. “Okay.”

They lay there, facing each other, inches apart.

Neither of them said anything else.

But this time, when their hands brushed beneath the blanket, neither of them flinched.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Part 3???

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

taglist: @m3wkledreamy @chadiyuu @kittympirty @elairah

[rhaeverie]

was not, were not, is (pt. 2) — ldh

      alt title: anything, everything, always

pairing. haechan x reader  genre. best friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, angst if you squint, he fell first and harder wc. 4.8k summary. Donghyuck's stuck dwelling on your drunken confession from the night of the wedding. That is, until he finally puts his foot down and decides that he needs to do something about it (or else he'll go crazy); alternatively, a glimpse into Donghyuck’s feelings for you over the past few years warnings. nothing horrible, just hyuck yearning for 4.8k words if i'm being honest, a drawn out (!!) confession scene (but it's cute), winter cameo, hyuck’s love language is still very much acts of service, ?excessive use of italics and long sentences an. HAPPY EARLY HAECHAN DAY!! aint no way I just wrote a part 2 that’s longer than the first part LMAO—some people asked for part 2 so i said why not (this was so self-indulgent too),,, wrote this all while listening to yearning music (aka laufey and OPM) bc i needed to channel tht mindset ykwim? i think it worked ^‿^—pls enjoy!

read part one!

Donghyuck thinks that it’s utterly ridiculous that he’s losing sleep over this.

But he’s already replayed it a shameful number of times in his head, and he still isn’t sure how he’s supposed to approach it. 

He can’t just act like you didn’t confess what could possibly be the confession he’s been waiting his whole life for. 

But he can’t just bring it up to you so carelessly either. 

Donghyuck’s afraid that if he casually pulls up to your house, drops that bomb that you drunkenly spilled your (maybe) feelings for him, that he’d be putting you in a vulnerable position that would harm your friendship (or worse, you). 

And that’s the last thing he’d want to do. 

But let’s say your feelings were real, and he doesn’t confront you about this? Then, what will happen? What if nothing else happens between the two of you and a game of waiting continues until you’d have to end up with a love you wouldn’t want and you both end up old and die of old age and—

Donghyuck gasps out loud, shooting upright in his bed as he shakes the overthinking out of his head. 

No, he can’t let that happen. Not when he’s in the position to change something.

Donghyuck glances at the clock—3:28am—and he curses under his breath. It’s late, and he remembers you have work later this morning, but there’s no way he’s going to let another night pass without acting on this.

He has already fucked up letting a week pass so, no, another night can’t wait. 

Pulling on the nearest sweater he could find, Donghyuck slips his glasses on, grabs his car keys and leaves the house in his house slippers without a second thought. There’s a little bug in his ear that’s telling him that if he were to pause for even a second, he’d change his mind and turn back.

Should he be warning you that he’s on the way to your place at fuckass o’clock to get things straight? Yes. But in Donghyuck’s mind, his priority is to get to you first and figure it out from there. 

Besides, he knows you. 

You’ll let him in, no questions asked. 

A tune on the radio causes Donghyuck’s head to pulse, and he’s quick to push the button to turn it off. He refrains from playing music on the way there. And instead, his thoughts are plagued by the words you had confessed the night of the wedding.

      “It’d be weird if it wasn’t your hand I was holding…”

Donghyuck is sure that his lip was bleeding. 

He could taste it, something metallic mixing with the aftertaste of the fruit punch. But he couldn’t care any less when he’s busy watching you and what’s-his-face sway slowly to the cheesy Ed Sheeran song. 

His eyes twitch at the way he’s gripping your hips, as if you’d run away if given the chance. But judging by the look on your face, you were far from uncomfortable, a pretty smile gracing your face. 

Donghyuck wants to hate the sight with every single living cell of his being, but how could he hate a sight if you were a part of it?

“So, do you regret it?” 

Minjeong’s voice cuts through the music, catching Donghyuck’s attention almost instantly. He feels grateful that his friend has come to distract him from his current fixation. He needed it, especially when he could feel that green monster fighting to break out of his chest.

“Regret what?” Donghyuck falls back to chewing his bottom lip, letting his gaze settle to the floor between his and Minjeong’s feet. He already knows where the conversation was going, but Donghyuck feels that choosing to avoid the topic as long as possible would save his heart from harm.

Minjeong turns to look at you and the other guy, “Oh, I don’t know… not asking her to the dance? Not asking her to dance?”

It’s funny because Minjeong doesn’t even feel the need to even ask Donghyuck. Though knowing him, having Donghyuck talk through the problem was the only way for him to process the situation.

“I’m scared to say that I do regret it,” Donghyuck almost winces, frowning.

Regret was the ugliest feeling that a person could feel—a close tie with frustration and nostalgia. They all remind you that time was a bitch and there was absolutely nothing you could do to go back and change the past.

Minjeong sighs, using her thumb and index fingers to pinch Donghyuck’s hand, “Then, why didn’t you?” 

And although Donghyuck truly, genuinely wants to answer Minjeong’s question, understanding that she was just here to help him out, he couldn’t—there’s that frustration. He couldn’t answer even if he was held at gunpoint, not accurately, at least. He could chuck words at Minjeong and hope they’d make sense. 

He figured you’d have more fun like this, anyway, going to prom with someone who wasn’t afraid to cross boundaries. He wanted you to live the night to the fullest, something you were droning on and on about for the past few weeks. 

The way he pieced his thoughts together was odd, but it made sense in the moment. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, and in return, he could keep his own heart safe from jumping out of his chest throughout the entire night, which then means he wasn’t at risk of ruining your friendship.

It was a win-win. 

Well, at least that’s how he wished he could confidently interpret it.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck whispers, “But it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay if you look like you’ve been dragged through dirt, not once, but twice,” Minjeong points out, letting out a short snort. “You need to consider your own feelings, Hyuck. Be selfish for once. I say this for the sake of you and Y/N.” 

Donghyuck takes one more glance at you, your hands now linked with this other boy. Then he blinks down at his own hands, Minjeong having taken the lead because Donghyuck had initially refused to even step foot on the dance floor. 

He wonders how it feels to hold your hands like this. He was sure that it wasn’t the same as you taking his hand and dragging him through the halls, or him taking yours and guiding you through a busy street. 

He wonders how it feels to hold your hands like this. When it feels like it’s just the two of you and the music nudging at you both to dance to its tune.

He wonders how it’d feel to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

He wonders if they’d fit like puzzle pieces. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, “If she’s okay, then I am too.”

      “If it wasn’t you I was waking up to…”

The first thing that plagues Donghyuck’s head the second he wakes up is the memories of last night’s sleepover and you. 

Just you. 

He hasn’t even opened his eyes, and all he could think about was you. 

He quickly concludes that he’s certainly gone crazy. 

Well, maybe not mentally crazy, but crazy over you. 

He remembers falling asleep, missing your guys’ nightly sleepovers during the summer as kids. The games you’d play in an attempt to go to sleep, only failing because it’d lead you both to tears from trying to hold in your laughs. Midnight snacks tucked under his bed despite his mom’s disapproval. Parents sticking to check up on both, only to find you both wide awake…

He compares it to you guys now and how it’s been rare because of life and how busy it's gotten. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Donghyuck hears you giggle quietly, sun bleeding through the blinds soon covered by the shadow of your figure. He feels a tap on his nose. “I know you’re awake, sleepyhead.”

He draws his eyes open, though slowly, just so it isn’t too obvious that he was already awake. He suppresses a smile at your hyperfixation on his nose, the tip of it burning from making contact with your finger. 

“Good morning, Hyuck,” you squat next to him at his bedside, bringing your face down to his level, “Well, it’s more like late-morning, but still.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes flicker to his clock and reads that it was nearing noon. Then he settles his gaze back on you. You’re smiling down at him, eyes still a bit droopy and a bit puffy from waking up not too long before he did. He watches as they light up at a thought, and you settle comfortably on the floor. “I had a crazy dream last night…”  

And that’s all Donghyuck manages to hear because soon he’s distracted by your messy hair, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, your chapped lips, the sleeve of your shirt hanging loosely off your shoulder, your exposed collarbone, the way you’re somehow so talkative just minutes after you’ve woken up…

How could you be so perfect after waking up? 

Donghyuck doesn’t notice the way his eyes soften, brows relaxing and sinking to a neutral state. His jaw lies slack, but the pillow underneath his cheek holds it closed. And then there’s a familiar flutter in his chest, one that he’s grown accustomed to every time he looks at you.

His mind leaps to a new thought: what would it be like to be able to wake up and see you? You being the first sight he sees when he’s just woken up from a dream or a nightmare or a dreamless sleep? 

God, he would never get tired of that. 

And Donghyuck was a lover of sleep. Knowing he could wake up and see you the second he did? He’d look forward to waking up if that was the case.

But that’s likely something he could only imagine.

“And it’s funny because Renjun… Hyuck?” 

Donghyuck lies there, taking in your appearance. 

One day, he’ll gather up the courage to tell you how beautiful you were—are—a genuine compliment that wasn’t followed by an affectionate insult. 

“Hyuck? You okay?” You question. Holding a hand up, you wave it in front of his face and watch the way he blinks and shakes his head, almost as if you’ve taken him out of a trance. You frown, “Was it that boring?” 

“No, sorry, Princess,” Donghyuck replies, the rarely used nickname slipping out, “I was just… processing everything.” 

“Yeah… shouldn’t have bombarded you like that, huh?” You say sheepishly.

“You didn’t—you never bombard me. I like hearing your crazy dreams,” Donghyuck shakes his head, reassuring you, “I’ll cook us brunch and you tell me what happened? I’m hungry.”

      “If the kisses I was getting weren't from your lips…”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

The entire room chants, some wedding-goers use the nearest utensil to tap lightly on the wine glasses. The room was buzzing, and it was difficult not to get caught up in the excitement. 

Donghyuck, himself, was cheering along, throwing a fist up as if he were protesting. He feels like it was appropriate at a time like this, the two newlyweds having just shared a heartfelt speech to sum up the day, and ending it with a kiss would tie it together. 

You’re seated at his side, all danced out and far past tipsy. You’ve mentioned to him around once or twice that your head was spinning, your feet were hurting, and that you were thirsty. So he’s dragged you off the dance floor to let you rest and get you hydrated. 

Now you’re clinging onto his arm so you don’t topple over, still aware enough of the situation to chant along with everyone else. You’re giggling, watching as your cousin and her now husband shyly turn to each other before leaning in. 

Donghyuck’s heart swells. He’s known your cousin for so long, and has only been familiar with her partner for a fraction of that time, but he knows how long they’ve been together. He can’t help but admire the idea that two people can still be so in love after so long—he wonders if he can find love like that, too. 

You squeal when the couple shares a kiss, the room erupting in whoops and cheers. They smile into the kiss, eyes lulling shut out of instinct. It was a cute kiss, not one you’d cringe and want to look away at, but one that could shake jealousy out of you. 

Donghyuck turns to look at you amidst all that was happening, eyes melting when he sees you resting your head against his shoulder. You’re unaware that his attention has shifted to you, completely distracted by the stars of the day. The softest look occupies your face, as if you were in a dream state. 

Out of curiosity, his attention stumbles down onto your lips, which look just as plush as he’s imagined. 

Sure, Donghyck’s stolen glances of your lips before, and sometimes he lets his mind wander about what it would be like to press his own against yours. Then he lets his thoughts drift even further, knowing that it’s been long established that he could not for the life of him imagine himself kissing anyone else.

He’s a terrible friend for thinking this about you—at least that’s what he believes. But he can’t help it. Tonight, they look so tempting to just bring his head down and just… 

“Donghyuck?” 

Donghyuck turns to find your mom, “Hi, Auntie.” He fixes a smile on his face and gestures to you, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her from drinking too much.” His cheeks heat up, slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t fulfilled his promise to your mom.

Your mom shakes her head and laughs, “Sometimes it’s okay to let go like that. Besides, I trust you watching her. Thank you, by the way.”

Donghyuck nods his head before your mom takes his hand, “Can you please take her home? Knowing her, she'll pass out soon. I need to stay here and help the hosts clean up a bit.”  

He doesn’t hesitate to say yes, gathering all your things before he carefully guides you out of the venue.

      “I just feel like it’ll all be wrong if it wasn’t with you…”

“Hyuck? What the hell?!”

You tug Donghyuck into your apartment, brows furrowed because it was just shy of 4 AM and your best friend is standing in your living room, out of breath. Questions are racing through your mind, having absolutely no idea what could be happening. 

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” 

Donghyuck cursed under his breath. He hadn’t gone that far into saying what he had to say. He’s still hung up on your confession, playing in his head like a broken record. 

“Y/N…” There’s a lump in his throat and he feels as though he wants to cry, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe he was overwhelmed, or maybe because he’s scared that his spontaneous decision to show up here could ruin your friendship, and it’d be his fault. “Y/N I…”

Say words goddamnit. 

Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut, scouring the depths of his mind for the perfect thing to say, something that would work in his favour. His lips part, but only air comes out.

Then you yawn, simply because you’re tired. But you fight fatigue and wait patiently for Donghyuck to say something. The man has always been like this. His actions were always greater than his words. “Do you want tea, Hyuck? I’ll make us so—“

“No,” Donghyuck hastily refuses, “I mean, thank you… but I’m okay…” 

Regret scratches at the nape of Donghyuck’s neck. How could he play out this scenario in his head millions of times but not run through what he was supposed to say to you? How could he bring the problem up without putting you on the spot about what you had said? 

“You know what? I’m sorry for barging in like this, you’re tired and you need sleep and—“ 

“Lee Donghyuck, if you need help with something, then literally fuck sleep,” you scoff, smoothing your bed head out. 

You begin moving to the kitchen, the idea of tea now sounding appealing, but Donghyuck is quick to stop you. “No, Y/N, I’m actually fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you counter, “It’s obviously bothering you if you came here at this hour.” You lean forward and squint at your best friend through the dim lighting of your apartment. It’s easy to make out his eye bags and his beaten-up bottom lip from all the chewing. You know damn well… “And it even looks like you’ve been going through it. You can tell me, you know that, right?”

Donghyuck nods, still at a loss for words. He’s afraid to make eye contact with you for too long, letting his eyes flicker between you and the floor.

“But,” you follow up, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, too. I’ll still be here to listen then.” 

Silence dances in the air while you wait for Donghyuck to say something. He doesn’t know that you can see the way his eyes shift back and forth in deep thought, or the way his teeth cling onto his lip for comfort. 

Then Donghyuck says, “Can I stay over?” 

A tired smile rises onto your lips, “I wasn’t letting you out at this hour, anyway.” 

“Are there blankets and pillows in the extra closet? I’ll grab them—“ 

“Hyuck, you can sleep in my bed like always.” 

Shit. 

Donghyuck nearly panics, eyes growing wide. Sure, it wasn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, but sleeping with you in the same bed with his current state? When the only secret he’s kept from you was waiting to be hacked out after years of lingering in his chest? 

“You have no choice,” you protest, reading his mind. Huffing out a loud sigh, you reach for Donghyuck’s hand, instinctively slipping your fingers in between his before you yank his taller figure to your room. Donghyuck can’t find it in him to protest, words stuffed down and trapped in his throat. 

When you let go, Donghyuck almost reaches back out to keep your hand in his. 

You’re quick to settle back into your bed, letting out another yawn as you watch Donghyuck expectantly. Almost like you were going to start throwing a fit if he didn’t fill the spot next to you.

And that’s how Donghyuck finds him laying right next to you, heart damn near breaking his ribcage and defeaning his ears. He’s thankful that you have your back turned to him, completely oblivious to his state. It feels like he’s going to implode if he doesn’t say anything. 

It was kind of funny—maybe to an audience, but not to him. 

“What would it take for you to stop being my friend?” Donghyuck blurts out. The mattress shifts underneath him, and he feels your body turn to face him, peering at him through the darkness. 

You raise a brow, but it’s hidden in the darkness. You scoff, “What kind of question is that?” 

Donghyuck sighs, “Please, just answer it.” 

Sensing the tone in Donghyuck’s voice, you press your lips together and think, what would it take to stop being friends with Donghyuck?

“Everything,” you say simply, “But even then, I think I’d still forgive you.”

“I call bullshit,” he murmurs, “What if I killed someone and pinned the blame on you? What if I broke something special and irreplaceable to you? What if I purposely broke your leg or… or…”

“Those are all so stupidly unbelievable, Hyuck. You’d do none of that,” you chuckle, “At least make it believable.” 

Donghyuck almost chokes, his heart fighting to escape his chest. It’s like it was pushing up his throat as if he were ready to throw it up. “Or what if… my feelings for you changed and yours didn’t change in the way mine did?”

“Hyuck… you’re scaring me… Did I do something wrong?” you frown, heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “Fuck, it was when I was drunk wasn’t it? Did I say or do something wrong?”

      “I want you to love me.”

Donghyuck panics. Now he wishes he had worded his last question differently, one that didn’t have you misinterpreting it. 

“N-no!” He hurriedly answers, “No, never. I could never hate you.” Never. 

He nervously swallows the spit pooling in his mouth because now he’s sure that he needs to be upfront about his feelings. There’s no other way he could go now. He’s taken the final path down whatever road this was. 

“What if… I fell in love with you and you didn’t love me back?” He exhales a shaky breath, both out of relief and anxiousness, afraid that he’s ruined everything. There’s silence, and it scares Donghyuck. There really was no telling what you were thinking, whether you were thinking of ways to reject him or dodge the question. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t like it.

Then, through the darkness, he hears you laugh nervously, “Hyuck… Hyuck, I said you have to make it believable.” A pause. “You can’t love me… not like that at least.” 

You finally sit up and go to turn the lamp on. Donghyuck finally sees your expression clearly in the yellow glow. Your brows are furrowed, a look of confusion stuck on your face. It looked as though you were processing what he had just said.  

Donghyuck immediately sits up, almost mirroring you. He’s ready to reach out to you, but he holds back for now. He can’t take anything back now. 

“But I do, Y/N.” His tone is sprinkled with desperation, hoping you’d hear it and understand that he’s being dead serious. 

And when it’s your turn to lack words, Donghyuck quickly musters up what he can, piecing things together under pressure in his head. He doesn’t have much time before you overthink, and he knows it. “Do you remember what you told me the night of the wedding? When I was taking you home?”

You shake your head and your heart skips a beat. Your mind tries to reel back to that night, but all you remember is Donghyuck urging you onto his back. Everything after that was a mess, like a fever dream you’re trying so hard to grasp but can’t for the life of you remember. 

“Well… I do.” Donghyuck isn’t sure if he feels dejected or relieved that you don’t remember your confession. Because if you did forget it, did it mean anything? 

Still, he continues, keeping his head down to avoid your gaze, “You said that…” He’s unsure if he should tell you everything you said, or if he should be straight to the point. He doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it feels like finally bringing this up will help him get to his point. That he really, truly, loves you. 

“You said a bunch of things, and I was reflecting on them and… and even though I’ve known my feelings for you this whole time.” Exhale. “I realized that I was pretty much thinking the same thing.” 

Donghyuck lifts his view in the slightest, enough to put your fidgeting hands in view, before he gently grabs them. He takes them in his, rubbing his finger along the bumps of your knuckles. And though he feels like he’s mainly doing this for himself, he knows that he’s comforting you, too. 

“I can’t imagine myself being with anyone but you,” Donghyuck says carefully, as if the words were fragile on his tongue, “In fact, I think I hate the idea of being with anyone but you.” He squeezes your fingers, chewing his bottom lip out of habit. 

“You told me a bunch of things,” he repeats, “But you ended it all with how you wanted me to love you. How you feel like it’s too much to ask for me to love you back every day…” Donghyuck shakes his head, frustrated when he recalls that last part, “And I hate thinking that I’ve been making you feel like that this whole time.”

“And I’m cringing at what I’m about to say… it’s pretty fucking cheesy… but… you don’t even have to ask me to love you, Y/N,” Donghyuck concludes, nodding his head, “I love you so much and… I’d do anything just to make sure you know it.” 

Donghyuck had not noticed that he was crying until a tear fell right onto his thigh. He looks up to keep more from dripping, but that’s when his eyes finally catch sight of you, eyes drowning in your own tears. 

“Shit,” he’s quick to catch them before they fall off your face, letting your hands go and wiping your cheeks with the heels of his hands, “Shit, Princess, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I—” 

“It’s okay, Hyuck,” you interrupt, shaking your head. Donghyuck continues to frantically wipe your cheeks, frowning. You can’t help but laugh, reaching for his hands and bringing them to your lap, “I’m okay.” 

“Then, why are you crying?” Donghyuck is taken back to your conversation on the night of the wedding. If this wasn’t deja vu, he wonders if there’s another word for it. 

“You’re so annoying,” you sniffle, dropping one hand and lightly hitting his knee, “You say all that and expect me not to cry?” You slip your hand back into his. 

Donghyuck’s gaze drops to your hands, thumbs tracing over his knuckles, “I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I didn’t know if your confession was real, but after I heard what you said, I couldn’t not do anything about it.” 

There’s a brief pause as you process his response. Then, just above a whisper, cutting through the thick, but comfortable, air in the room, he hears you say, “I love you, too, you know.” 

He feels his heart stutter, almost leaping right out of his chest and straight into your hands, where it belonged. But of course, now, he’d let it if it chose to do so. 

“Hyuck, I—” You let go of his hands, and this time, Donghyuck lets himself reach out back for them, a subtle flash of panic in his eyes. 

And as soon as it came, that frantic feeling dissipates when he feels your hands cup his face. You nudge his head up to look at you.

He’s confused, lips parting to say something in objection, but then he reads a look in your eyes that he’s never seen before. You’re peering at him through your lashes, and Donghyuck swears he sees the glow of your lamp dancing in swirls right in your irises. They grow big, melting into his own, and despite being unfamiliar with the emotion, he immediately understands what you’re trying to say. 

Or, better yet, what you’re trying to do.

Donghyuck’s doe eyes, as red and puffy as yours, flicker to your lips and back to your eyes. A flutter in his chest confirms what he’s feeling. He wants this—he really does. 

So he nods carefully, thoughts of finally kissing you making him dizzy as his hands instinctively travel up to your arms to draw you in… closer and closer and…

Donghyuck’s hands found their way up to cup your face, using his pinkies to angle your head so he could easily press his lips against yours. And then your arms instinctively slide up and around his neck before they fall limp and hang loosely around him. 

The kiss wasn’t passionate. 

But it was tender, and it was perfect. 

It was a kiss that perfectly suited your relationship with Donghyuck, a love that’s gentle and comforting, one that didn’t hit you both like a truck. 

Donghyuck’s head was spinning, lips moving against yours as if he wanted to memorize how they felt on his. And though he’s imagined—dreamed—about how it would be like to kiss you countless times, the raw feeling of having your lips pressed against his was nothing compared to all of that. 

He nudges his nose against yours for one final push before you both finally come up for air. Your foreheads stay connected, eyes still drawn closed and basking in the feeling of finally getting what you wanted. Donghyuck’s hands have slipped down to your waist, forearms resting against your crossed legs. You both were out of breath. You could feel Donghyuck’s air tickling the skin under your nose. 

“You don’t…” Donghyuck sighs, catching his breath, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that.” 

You giggle, eyes fluttering open before you steal a peck from his lips and pull away, “Was it worth the wait?”

Donghyuck quickly catches your wrists, tugging you back to repeat your actions. You can’t bite back a smile. 

Of course it was, he thinks. It would have been worth it no matter how long he had to wait. 

It was you, after all. 

And as far as he knew, anything and everything that had to do with you would always be worth it. 

But Donghyuck knows that he’s been cheesy enough for one night. And after noticing your tired, half-lidded eyes, though his mind floods with so many things he wants to tell you, for now, he settles for a simple answer. 

“Always.”

an: ngl i think this was one of my fav fics tht ive written ever :(( i loved writing these two so much,, likes and reblogs and comments are soso appreciated, i wanna know if u guys found this as cute as i did! thank you for reading!

[fairytsuk1]

tie me up, pin me down | (s)

synopsis: husband!alex indulging his wife´s request to dom him then taking over when she teases him too much

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 4k

warnings: husband/wife dynamic, dom/sub dynamic, teasing, cowgirl position, reverse dynamic, sub!alex

“You wanna—what?”

Alex kneads your hips in his hands, eyes searching yours for clarification. You were nestled in his lap, arms slinked around his broad shoulders as you stared deeply into his dark eyes. Alex held you easily, your body molding to his in a practiced motion the two of you had perfected over the years of being together.

 “Are you serious?”

A throb between your thighs leaves you aching as you roll your hips into Alex’s lap. Your husband lets out a soft sigh at the feel of your plush ass pressing so deliciously against his bulge. 

“Of course,” you grumble, hands twisting his wedding ring delicately. “I wanna top you, seriously.”

Alex takes in your words as a slight grin works its way onto his freckled face, urging you harder against his growing erection while humming lowly. The two of you enjoyed a little power play every once in a while.

Though you had never outright asked to top him, you and Alex always fell into an easy rhythm; you’d take what he gave you, and he’d give you all you could need. It was fun, it was easy, it was sexy. 

“Hmm, are you sure you want to? Maybe I’ll be super bratty, like you!”

Your hand slaps his chest, a mewl escaping you when you grind just right; your clit pulses as you bear down on your husband’s arousal. Your lips peck at his jaw and neck, your hips growing greedy as they rocked again and again against him. He already had you losing yourself in him, and it was just so unfair how weak he made you.

“First off, I’m not bratty—“

“Sure, you’re not.”

Lips press into a thin line, and the first move is made when you press manicured nails into the soft skin of Alex’s jaw. His cheeks are mush against your fingertips. You deliciously squirm at the feel of holding him in place, panting against his lips and keeping him still.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Alex’s eyes give the green light, and you continue. “Second off, I can handle anything you throw my way.”

“Can you?”

It’s muffled against your fingertips but doesn’t stop the smile from crawling onto Alex’s lips like a Cheshire cat. You scoff, releasing his jaw and pouting in his lap while you look at him. 

“I can, and you better believe me. I’ll tease you till you’re crying and begging me to stop.”

Your husband is non-threatened, chuckling and unable to hold back his smirk as his hand skims your sides and comes to massage your chest. His deft fingers easily find the curve of your tits. His thumb runs over your nipple, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning and arching into his chest. 

“We’ll see. That’s usually you, you know.”

“Just watch me,” you say, leaning in and capturing Alex’s lips in a hot kiss. 

He groans and pulls you closer, already growing desperate as he gathers you in his arms to lift you and take you to the bedroom. Your legs wrap around his waist effortlessly, and you giggle when he hoists you up into the air. 

“C’mon, no more games!”

The two of you are a mess of tangled limbs and panting breaths for the rest of the evening.

Days pass. Alex is busy with work, and you’ve got your own thing going on: cooking, shopping, relaxing. You’re secretly plotting and praying Alex doesn’t know. He saunters around like he’s innocent. A stretch in the living room here, a towel wrapped around him there. Post-shower, mind you. Your husband was making you hot under the collar, and you hated it. You need to get under his skin and make him feel crowded and needy.

Oh, you were plotting. You make his favorite. Tamales Rojas. Red tamales. It’s labor mixed with love as you tenderly make each one with a smile on your face. Alex greets you with a pleasant sniff and arms wrapping around your waist. “Smells good in here. What are you doing, trying to convince me of something?”

“No, I just wanted to do something special for you.” 

You whisper and turn in his arms to wrap yourself around his shoulders. You get close enough to kiss, and you can see his eyes darting down to peer at your lips. He pulls you closer to his body by your hips; he’s familiar with you, and he knows you can’t resist crumbling before him when he towers over you just like this. Yet, you’re still standing, and your grin has turned into a full-blown smirk.

“Ready to eat?”

Alex’s eyes are dark and stormy, and they drink you in like a full glass of red wine. He hums lowly, thumbs rubbing at your hip bones before skimming your waist and tugging you closer by the small of your back. “I’m ready for something else.”

Despite the aching call for submission that comes from your gut, you manage to resist and worm your way out of Alex’s shocked arms. He stares at you curiously and follows like a dog to the kitchen. Alex doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s wondering why the two of you aren’t fucking right on the kitchen table.

You plate the tamales for him, the spicy pork making your mouth water as you set his plate in front of him.

“Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” and you’re sitting opposite him with crossed arms and legs.

You weren’t expecting the retaliation from Alex, though, who corners his plate like a man starved. He looks the exact same as he would, as if he was going to eat you out, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he crowds the plate like it was your sweet pussy. Your mouth runs dry as Alex starts to feast, making soft groans of pleasure as he tears his teeth into the masa and pork. 

Alex’s eyes are dark when they drift up to yours. He looks hungry. His eyes watch you for a moment before he wipes his lips and takes a sip of water. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No I–I am,” you mumble, cheeks flushing and eyes darting away as you try to conceal your shy gaze. “What do you think?”

“It’s fucking delicious, babe. I’ll do the dishes tonight,” and he drawls his words out in a way that makes your thighs squeeze together. “You really outdid yourself, didn’t you, mi amor?”

He knows he’s hitting all your weak points. He absolutely knows what he’s doing with the praise that sends heat down to your throbbing clit. You take a tentative bite and nod, not dignifying him with a response. Alex smirked before crowding his plate and beginning to eat even more voraciously. 

Alex groans, licking his lips and smacking them as if he was devouring you. It’s too much, and you’re standing abruptly with your half-full plate. “I’m done. I’m gonna put this in the sink.”

“Okay, baby,” his eyes linger as you cross the room. 

Even in the kitchen, you can feel his piercing gaze. You stay where you are, listening as your husband stands and approaches you. He’s quiet as he draws close, humming a random tune as he rests his chin on the junction of your neck. Then, a sharp smack echoes in the small apartment.

“Alex!”

“I know what you’re doing,” he drawls into your ear, hand taking a handful of your ass before smacking it again for emphasis. “Trying to ignore me? Even when I want you so bad…”

“I’m not ignoring you,” you whisper and try to keep the shake from your voice. “I made your favorite.”

“As if that’s not when you want something. Come on, let me have you.”

Was that begging*? Oh, it was definitely begging. You must bite your lip to prevent a smirk as you turn in his arms.

“Get to washing.”

Just like that, you leave him shell-shocked in the kitchen. You lounge in the living room, listening to Alex vigorously scrub pots and pans. You can imagine the pouty look on his face as he meticulously cleaned every dish. You had won this round.

Alex did not like to give up, though. It was one of the things you loved about him. When he was into something, he was into it. It all started with a casual Saturday morning, two days after the tamales rojos incident–as you liked to call it. It was two days of bliss, of married life with your husband. Yet, on this particular day, Alex seemed different.

He did all the chores early. He made you breakfast and carried your cup of coffee to you in bed. Usually, these sweet gestures and over-the-top affectionate moments were saved for more meaningful occasions, not just ordinary Saturday afternoons.

“Any reason for this?”

“Just wanted to do something special for you,” Alex murmurs. His eyes stare deep into yours with an intensity that makes you hot under the collar. “What’s your plan for today?”

“Oh, nothing,” you lie easily.

You were ready to put your plan into action and absolutely dominate him.

“Well, have fun with your lazy day,” Alex teased, and you leaned forward for a syrupy kiss.

But it was denied. Alex swiftly turns his head, and your lips plant a full kiss on his cheek. He smirked, and you could see the intensity of his gaze mingle with the boyish playfulness of his personality. This wasn’t any ordinary Alex. No, this was bratty, submissive and downright infuriating Alex.

If you wanted to top him, he would not make it easy for you. You put your big girl boots on, opting for a different avenue to get what you desperately wanted. Alex goes about his day like usual. You pay him no mind. You merely watch him, observe him like a zoo animal. He’d dodge a kiss here, pretend he wasn’t listening there.

He was pretty good at being a brat. It just wasn’t enough to get you to back down. You crowd him after dinner, taking steady, measured steps up to his seated form. He keeps his eyes on the TV as if he sees through you. You cock a hip and lean down to get face to face.

Alex’s breath quickens. You can feel the soft puffs on your face as you force him to meet your gaze. He holds it for a moment, and before he can swiftly turn away, your hand darts out to grip his fleshy cheeks between your fingers. You caught him.

“You haven’t been playing nice,” you murmur and shake your head as Alex tries to open his mouth, prevented by the way the pads of your fingers dig into the groove under his jawbone. You pin him in place.

“No,” you drawl. “Don’t try to speak. Just look at me. I’m already making you do it. You might as well comply.”

Alex’s cheeks lift into a smushed smile, and your lips form a flat line. Your hand tilts his head up farther, enough to see the redness float into the apples of his cheeks.

“Lemme go,” he mumbles, voice hollow and wet with spit.

“No.”

“Why not?”

You hold him for a moment longer before releasing him, your hand traveling to cup his throat. His breath hitches then, and you’re smirking at how your husband so easily enjoyed being put in his place.

“Because, I want you to go upstairs and lie flat on your back. I want you pliant, open, spread just for me. I want to devour you.”

Alex dashes up the stairs, an excited yet breathless laugh escaping him. You wait till you hear nothing before making your way upstairs. Photos of your wedding, the two of you together, and the life you had built together pass by your form.

He’s spread out in his boxers for you. A teasing smile lingers on Alex’s face as he rests on one arm.

“Hey, pretty,” he quips your usual nickname as you climb over him and settle your clothed self on top of his form. “You look good, baby.”

“I always look good,” you tease and hold a finger to his lips. “But I’m not your baby tonight.”

“Oh? What happened to my good girl?”

Your hips roll against his half-chub, a hiss escaping him as you drag your clothed pussy over the length of his cock, teasing him slowly with every circle of your hips. It’s already hot in the room, your lips parting to puff soft breaths as you worked your hips over Alex’s dick. Alex’s thighs tense with need, and you can see how he struggles from pinning you to the bed and absolutely ravishing you. 

His fingers flex, and you’re sweeping his wrists into the grip of your palm and pinning them over his head. Your man playfully gasps, and your lips quirked into a smirk. 

“I’m not your good girl. Tonight, I want you to surrender to me. I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow,” and you drag out your words to punctuate them with a grind of your hips. “I’m telling you, Alex, you’re gonna be begging me to cum.”

“We’ll see about that. For now, why don’t you just show me, hmm?”

Your lips meet in a fiery, hot kiss. It’s sloppy and wet with how your tongues glide together, lips sucking at the pink muscle while Alex squirms beneath you. Your fingers press his wrists further into the plush of the mattress, and Alex groans for a moment of breath.

“So unfair, I wanna touch you,” he whines softly.

“Be patient,” you utter against his lips, grinding your pussy against his hips. You were already soaking through your panties, but you kept your clothes on. “I’ll let you touch me if you’re good.”

Alex makes no real move to push you off, though you know he can. Instead, he lets you in him. Lets you kiss his lips till they’re pink, swollen, and bitten. He looks up at you with lowered lids, chest heaving as your manicured nails rake across his skin. He looked downright delicious. 

You’re gentle in the way you plant kisses from his sternum down to the waistband of his boxers. You let go of his wrists, and he quickly tucks his arms behind his head to prop himself up and watch you. Your lips are plush, soft and warm as they drag over his clothed cock. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as you palmed him over his boxers, a low moan escaping him as he shifted.

He was already so hard, so wanting for you. Your fingers scrape against the sensitive skin of his tummy as you peel his boxers off, his dick leaking and flushed against his navel. You’re still fully dressed, and you can see your man eyeing you with annoyance.

“I wanna see you,” he says after a beat of silence. “Please?”

“Please, what?”

Alex’s face contorts, and while you know he’s not entirely against calling you mommy, he was certainly not used to it. It comes out quiet, meek. His eyes are shy as he glances away at the pictures on your nightstand before returning to your form. You smirk and lean so close that your noses touch.

“Say it, and I’ll take all my clothes off.”

“Please, Mommy?”

“Of course, you’re so good for me.”

An exquisite look of pleasure crosses Alex’s face when you compliment him. He leans into your palm that smooths his hair out, his eyes wide as you slowly lift and pull your shirt off. Your husband has seen you a million times like this but never got that awestruck teenage boy look off his face.

Your breasts grow exposed, nipples hardening in the cool air. You sit atop him, hands roaming over your torso as you give him a show. You huff and whine when your palms drag over your tits, and Alex’s eyes grow to saucers as he watches you. Pathetic little pleas are spoken by him, his eyes raking over your form as you pleasure yourself.

“Can you take the rest of it off? I wanna see you so bad,” Alex gives him, his voice betraying him as he begs for you.

“Oh, yeah? Want me to take all of it off?”

“Yes, I just fuckin’ said–”

You’re pinning him down again. Your eyes are dark, lashes fluttering against your flushed skin as you stare at him.

“You’ll take what I give you with no complaints. Do you hear me?”

Alex’s lip quivers, and he thrashes for a moment before relaxing. You sat on your knees above him, sweatpants still adorned, as Alex arched up to try to get some friction. You watch him squirm, humming lowly and leaning down to plant peck after peck on his sternum. 

Your lips trace his pecs, softly gliding over his right nipple. A squeak escapes him, and then a moan when you take his nipple into your mouth and suck. He always did this with you. Teased you till you couldn’t take it anymore, and well, you understood, given how satisfying it was to watch your husband pathetically whimper for your body. 

Sitting up, you untie your sweatpants and tug off your panties. Alex’s eyes rake over you with pure need, his wrists sitting pliantly and obediently above his head. The two of you look at each other before you’re sinking down and slotting your pussy over his cock.

“Oh fuck. You’re so wet, baby. Fuuuck, can you–ngh, y’know.”

“Not yet, honey,” you purr, dragging your soaked folds over the curve of his dick. “You feel so good, so warm against me. Oh god, fuck, wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Please fuck me,” Alex’s voice is hoarse. Desperate. “Ohmygod, pleasepleaseplease. Wanna feel your pussy, I wanna be inside you. Mommy, please?”

It’s so fucking tempting. You ground yourself faster, harder, growing near delirious as you felt his pre-cum mix with your slick, making the glide that much wetter. You’re on your forearms, hips working back and forth against Alex, his eyes rolling back and lips parting to expose the delicate expanse of his throat. Little moles dotted his skin, and a sharp moan floats past your lips.

“Fuck, I-I’m, fuck. Okay, oh god, okay.”

You’re caving and sitting up in an instant. His words just made you even hornier, and you needed to feel him now. Your hand grabs the base of his cock–a strangled wail coming from Alex–before you line him up with your pussy. He was twitching in your hand, gripping the headboard as you sank down.

“Holy shit, ngh, yes! Fuck me, please. Just move!”

“Hush, I’m moving–okay?”

It’s so hurried, and you’re immediately bouncing like a bunny in his lap. Alex can’t take it anymore, and his hands come to grab onto your hips eagerly, pulling you flush against his cock as he buries himself deep inside you. You let him, greedily bouncing up and down on his dick. He was so hard, throbbing inside you, and you couldn’t get enough of how he handled your hips and tugged you down with every bounce.

He’s so thick that his dick stretches you out with every long glide. You pant, eyes fluttering as your hands fist the sheets. Alex is privy to how you writhe and grind against his hips. Pathetic mewls are pushed from your lips, and you’re looking at him with wide eyes that beg for him.

Your thighs ache. The burn is so intense that you’re pausing above him with a trembling lip. Alex drinks you in, his thumb rubbing circles on the muscles of your legs before smirking.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I-I can’t,” you breathe, and you try so hard to keep moving, to keep grinding, but your thighs give out on you, and you slam back down onto Alex. “‘M too tired, can’t keep up…”

“Oh, you can’t? Sounds like you need some help,” and he’s fucking crooning at you in that soft voice that makes you melt.

You’re nodding before you even know it, hips weakly rocking back and forth as Alex sits on his forearms. The two of you stare at each other, the wet squelch between your bodies the only thing audible as you hold your gazes.

“I want you to say it,” he rasps slowly.

“Just fuck me–it doesn’t matter! I-I’m still in charge, and I’m demanding you fuck me.”

“Yeah, you’re demanding like a little brat. What you really want is for me to take control. You’re such a needy little thing. You can’t lie to me.”

“That’s not true!”

“Is it not?” Alex’s hands pull you closer, the two of you still connected. He plants his feet on the bed, and you’re immediately lifted higher into the air as he starts to thrust into you. “Look at you. You know you want it. Aww, you’re so cute like this, honey.”

You’re hiccuping, your gaze downcast as your husband fucks up into you with his raw strength. You’re crying out, grappling for purchase anywhere you can find it: the sheets, Alex’s shoulders, his chest. He fills you up so well, and your eyes grow glassy as he hits that spot deep inside you. 

“Oh god, oh fuck me. Mmf! Alex, fuck, Alex–you’re fucking me so good!”

“Yeah, fuck. Ngh, I love your pussy, baby. You’re everything to me, just wanna make you feel good.”

Your hand comes to rub at your clit, puffy and sensitive, and your fingers tremble as you rub tight circles. It comes at you hot, fast, and fiery as your orgasm courses through you. Every muscle locks up, and you’re keeling over with a sharp cry as you cream on his dick.

“That’s it, there we go. That was all you needed; you just needed me to fuck you. God, can I keep going? Wanna cum so bad, wanna fill you up.”

“Fucking, yes–keep going!”

Everything’s so sensitive to the point it almost hurts, and your belly throbs with that mix of pain and pleasure. You shake above him, feeling Alex bounce your body above him before stilling and cumming hard. It’s so hot that you’re letting out a bleary whine as he fills you to the brim.

Your muscles shake above him, and your voice is weak and panting.

“I–That was not; I was supposed to top you,” you mumble, using every last ounce of your strength to lift yourself up and lay right against Alex’s chest. Your face is smushed into his smooth skin, and he wraps an arm around you immediately, pulling you closer by your waist.

“You did, for a little. You did so good, too,” Alex whispers in your ear, tongue flicking over the shell of it with a huff of a laugh. “You just can’t resist me, and I always know what you need.”

His hands trace random shapes across your ass, nails barely grazing over the sensitive flesh. You’re quiet, planting kiss after kiss along his chest and pecs. He hums lowly, not really saying anything–he doesn’t want to break the quiet. 

“I love having sex with you,” you admit, head tilting up to peer at him. “I just love you.”

“Well, I’d hope so. We are married, after all.”

He’s light. Teasing. Your face flushes, and you curse at the fact that he could still make you blush like a schoolgirl. Your fingers trace a circle around his nipple, and he jerks a bit.

“You know what I mean,” you implore softly.

This wasn’t just about sex, dominance and submission, or more. This was pure, unadulterated love. You wanted to pour your love for him through your eyes, your words, your existence.

“I know. I love you so much,” he whispers your name so quietly you almost miss it.

But you hear it. It’s full of tenderness and love. It’s said in the way you whisper to your lover in the dead of night, knowing they’re not listening but also that they’re still feeling that affection through whatever cosmic osmosis connects the two of you. It’s raw. Authentic. He means the world to you, and you mean the world to him. 

In this moment, it’s pure ecstasy.

[punkrockmlchael]

Check Me?

Masterlist | Fred Hechinger Characters Masterlist

Customer: Anonymous!

Order: double scoop of pistachio almond with nerds

Ingredients: 18+ mdni, Fem!Reader x Simon Kalivoda (for obvious reasons, reader and Simon are both 18+), There might be some spoilers (nothing major but I suppose read at your own risk if you don't want any/haven't seen Fear Street 1994 yet), Second Chance Love, Some Heartfelt Conversation, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of dying/death, Smut: Kissing and Making Out, Fingering, Hand Job, Unprotected PinV (wrap it up, okay?), Creampie

Total: $27.36 (2736 words)

Order note from the scooper (Simon): "Hi, valued customer! Thank you for your order! I love this combination, some people think it's weird but I love nerds. Anyways, here's your double scoop of pistachio almond with nerds! Please, come back soon and get some more ice cream from us! I would love to see a pretty person like yourself here each and everyday."

Check out our ice cream parlor here!!

thank you to @keeryhours , @iitsmandii , and @robinbuckleywife for reading this over for me!

Josh followed Kate into the girls bathroom like a lost puppy, watching her every move as he went in after her. He was clearly mentally undressing her; a nervous wreck with each and every step he took behind her.

The pair both entered the girls bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them with a loud and obnoxious creak.

Deena and Sam were already walking towards the science lab together, tension in the air with each step they took together. The shared glances, the sudden shift in stances, the way Deena’s gaze lingered on Sam for a moment too long as they shuffled away to a secluded room.

Josh was with Kate. Deena was with Sam. And that meant that you were left with… Simon. Simon Kalivoda, in all his glory, or, lack thereof. It had been approximately two months since you had spent time with him outside of the group, the quick and sudden breakup a bit too much to handle. It’s not that he didn’t care about you, or that you didn’t care about him; no. It was quite the opposite, actually. You two just… needed time to grow and the best way to grow was by being apart (or, at least, that’s what your mom said).

Something about how high school relationships are meant to be fun but if you want something serious you have to put in the extra work. And, Simon hated putting in extra work; he was the definition of here for a good time, not a long time. But you were different. You wanted to have fun while excelling as a person. That’s what made you and Simon different… sometimes it felt like he didn’t care about excelling as a person; he was just there.

Living his life, day by day, with no care in the world. Selling anything and everything he could get his hands on to try to get out of the shitty town you both called home.

You were trying to excel now for your future whereas Simon was trying to make it to his future; he didn’t care how he got there, as long as he was able to leave this shitty place behind.

The slam of the science lab door brought you back to reality and you were actively aware of the fact that you and Simon were now left alone—just the two of you left with each other. Normally you would enjoy this, you would always try to sneak off and get some time alone with each other but… not now. No, now you were trying to avoid him like the plague; you wanted to avoid Simon and everything that had to do with him like he was cursed.

You sighed, looking down at the clothes in your hands before you glanced at Simon who was making his way towards the boys bathroom.

“Guess that just leaves us,” he smirked, opening the door for you.

“Wonderful,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way into the bathroom.

“Oh, try not to seem so excited,” Simon teased, following you into the bathroom.

“My bad,” you mumbled, “I just, always seem to be stuck with you.”

“Oh, you know you love me,” Simon smirked, setting his clothes down on the sink carefully.

“Hardly,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Mhm, sure,” he shrugged, taking his shirt off carefully. He threw it in the trashcan before he undid his jeans and pushed them down. He pumped some soap into his hands before scrubbing them together, running them under the water carefully. The soap and water flew down the drain while Simon stood there, shaking his hips gently.

“Do you have any shame?” You asked, watching him dance in front of the mirror while washing his hands.

He glanced at you, shrugging. “We both know the answer to that. Plus, you’ve seen me in less clothes than this before,” he reminded you, drying his hands off carefully. He turned to you, watching you slowly peel off your sweater.

“Yeah, I know. How could I forget?” You asked, throwing your sweater into the trash can with his shirt. “Will you check me for any of Sam’s blood? I just want to be completely sure there’s nothing on me.” You said, looking up at Simon. He nodded, walking towards you slowly.

He walked around you in a circle, checking your entire upper body for any sign of blood. You undid your jeans and stepped out of them, looking at him as he eyed you up and down. “Nope, no blood,” he mumbled, his fingers grazing over your lower back gingerly as he walked towards the front of you.

“Thanks,” you nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of his fingers on your skin and the feeling of goosebumps that overcame you.

Simon looked at you, nodding back as he thought for a minute. “You still love me,” Simon said, moving closer to you. “I know you do, and it’s okay because I still love you…” he added, his hands finding your hips meticulously. “I miss you,” he mumbled, pulling your body closer to him. Your breath hitched, listening to his words carefully as they fell out of his mouth.

The feeling of his body against yours was something so familiar that you missed and craved desperately. Your bodies just fit together like puzzle pieces, molding together perfectly in all the right spots. His hands on your hips, your chests touching, your hips touching… every touch of pure skin on skin searing with the heat of desire and longing.

“You miss me?” You asked, your hands finding his biceps. Your fingers wrapped around them slightly, your eyes finding his. Simon flexed his muscles under your touch, something he would always do when your grip was on them.

“Course I do,” Simon smiled slightly, his face nuzzling into your neck. He placed soft kisses on your skin, remembering the spots that drove you absolutely crazy. Peppering your neck with soft and sweet kisses, he slowly backed you up towards the wall. He pinned you between his body and the wall, his right hand moved to play with the lace hem of your panties.

“Simon,” you moaned softly, head falling back against the cool wall. “I miss you, too, you know?” Your hands moved up his biceps gently, nails digging into the skin just how he likes it. He groaned at the feeling, kissing up your jawline. His lips found yours in a soft and gentle kiss, a kiss that was filled with love and passion.

“You know,” he mumbled, your name falling from his lips just like it has plenty of times before. “We do have some time,” he smirked, his fingers dipping into the front of your panties slowly. “We could have some fun.”

You gasped softly at the feeling of his fingers moving closer and closer to your core. “Mhm,” you nodded, eyes shutting as your dominant hand moved down his chest, tracing over the hair that sat there slightly. Your hand stopped at the waistband of his underwear, tugging on it before you released it, the elastic snapping back against his skin with a loud snap.

“Witch,” he groaned, his whole hand moving into your panties.

“Oh please, you love me,” you smirked, “you know you, ah!” You moaned, back arching off the wall as his middle finger dipped between your folds slightly. His middle finger rubbed up and down your folds slowly before he pushed it into you.

“What was that?” He smirked, pumping his finger in and out of you slowly as you shook your head. You had completely lost your train of thought, everything going out the window as soon as Simon had you where he wanted you. “Oh, cat got your tongue, now?” He asked, kissing your lips roughly. You whined against his lips, moving your hips against his hand for more friction. “God, you’re just as needy as I remember,” Simon kissed down your neck, his lips kissing all over your chest. “Actually, you might be a little more needy than I remember,” he mumbled against your skin.

You rolled your eyes at his words, groaning softly as you moved against his fingers more. “Shut up,” you mumbled, your hand moving down his stomach. You stopped over his erection, squeezing it through his underwear before you started palming him.

“Oh, fuck,” he sighed, his head falling onto your shoulder gently. His forehead rested carefully on your shoulder, a small groan that sounded awfully close to your name falling out of his mouth. “Missed this,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as you palmed him a little rougher. His hips bucked up slightly, pushing against your hand for more friction.

“Missed this?” You smirked, your hand crawling back up slightly before moving into his underwear carefully. You wrapped your hand around his cock gently, pumping it up and down a few times. Your thumb rubbed over the slit, collecting and moving the precum that had already leaked out. A whine left Simon, his fingers slowing their movements slightly before he continued to pump them in and out of you.

“Missed this,” he repeated, peppering your collarbone with soft kisses. “Missed you,” he added, kissing up your neck and jawline, meeting your lips softly. “Missed you so so much, baby girl,” he mumbled against your lips.

You kissed him back, the kiss soft and sweet. Despite the position you were both in, the kiss was one of love and affection, making up for lost time instead of being hasty and messy.

“Missed you too,” you smiled after pulling away from the kiss slightly. “Missed everything about you.”

“Yeah?” Simon asked, his forehead resting against yours. “Like this?” He asked, curling his fingers slightly. You gasped softly, moaning as you nodded your head.

“Definitely that,” you replied, pumping him a little faster. Simon groaned, his fingers moving faster as the pad of his thumb brushed over your clit gently. “Fuck,” you whined, moving your hips against his fingers again. “I can’t take this,” you shook your head, your hand releasing him as you pulled it back. “For the love of god,” you mumbled, looking at him. “If we might die tonight, the least you could do is actually fuck me.”

Simon grinned, his fingers moving out of you slowly before they played with the hem of your panties. “With pleasure,” he nodded, pushing your panties down slowly. “You don’t even have to ask me twice.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. “I don’t think I ever have to ask you twice,” you teased. You pushed his underwear down carefully, watching his erection spring free. “Damn, Kalivoda,” you mumbled, kissing his lips gently. “Forgot how big you are.” You whispered against his lips.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, moving closer to you. His tip rubbed through your folds gently, slowly pushing into you. “Need a reminder?” He asked, breath hitching as he slowly felt you around him.

“Yeah,” you nodded, head falling back against the wall gently as he fully pushed into you. “Fuck,” you breathed out, looking up at him. “A reminder, a refresher, whatever you want to call it,” you smiled, kissing him softly. “I’ll take it,” you mumbled against his lips.

Simon’s hands found your hips, holding them gingerly as he rubbed small circles on them slowly. He kissed you back, pulling out of you completely before slowly pushing back in. He kept his thrusts slow and deep, his right hand grabbing your thigh gently. He lifted it up carefully, thrusting into you deeper with the new angle. You moaned against his lips, your leg wrapping around his body as your arms snaked around his neck, your fingers tangling into his messy hair.

“You’re beautiful,” Simon muttered, kissing down your neck. Your face flushed a slight pink at his compliment, your fingers tugging on his hair gently.

“You’re just saying that,” you replied, looking at him. “I’m standing in the boys bathroom at school, in just my bra, getting fucked against a wall before we go on a manhunt for some undead killers sent by a witch that has haunted this town for hundreds of years.” You reminded him, shaking your head. “I’m not beautiful. This is actually probably the worst I’ve ever looked,” you laughed slightly.

Simon shook his head, his thrusts picking up speed. “It’s been so hard not telling you how beautiful you look each and every day.” He muttered, kissing your neck softly. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and every time I looked at you I was just so… jealous that you weren’t mine anymore. I wanted nothing more than to fall to my knees and beg for you to come back to me. Because, let’s face it. I am an idiot, I know that. I’m stupid, I’m dumb, I’m the worst person to probably walk this shitty ass town right now.”

“Not the worst,” you mumbled, shaking your head as he kissed your neck. “You’re not cursed by a witch,” you added softly.

“I’m not cursed by that witch,” he kissed up your neck, kissing your lips softly. “But, sometimes, it feels like I'm cursed by something else.” Simon’s thrusts picked up speed again, his right hand moving down to where your bodies were connected. His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit gently, adding extra pressure as his thrusts turned sloppy. “I lost you, I fucked up so hard that I lost the one thing I cared about most in my shitty life; you.” He admitted, kissing your lips again.

You moaned against his lips, kissing him back as your hips moved against his. “Fuck,” you breathed, moaning Simon’s name as you clenched around him, releasing around him as he continued to thrust. “You’re not cursed,” you mumbled, looking at him. “We just went separate ways, I think it’s time we come back together?” You suggested, your hands moving down his arms gently. You squeezed his biceps again, scratching at the skin gently.

Simon groaned your name loudly, kissing your lips as he thrusted into you hard and deep, releasing rope and rope inside of you. He mumbled something incoherently against your lips while his thrusts slowed down. He kissed your lips a couple more times, stopping his movements as he looked at you. “You think it’s time for us to come back together?” He asked softly, a hopeful gaze in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling slightly as you kissed his lips again. “Unless you don’t think we should?”

“No, no, I definitely want to.” He smiled, kissing you again. “I love you.” He pulled away from the kiss and pulled out of you, helping you stand back up carefully.

He moved quickly to clean himself up before walking towards you, helping you clean up as well.

You and Simon both got dressed in silence, but it wasn’t an awkward silence—it was sweet. A nice, comfortable silence as you shared glances at each other, looking away with blushes each time you noticed the other looking.

You glanced in the mirror and fixed your hair and your clothes before you slipped out of the bathroom with Simon.

You leaned against the lockers, arms crossed over your chest. Simon stood beside you, biting on his nails out of nerves as everyone rejoined the small group after getting changed. Kate gave Simon a look while Josh smiled brightly; Deena and Sam walking hand in hand.

“Wait, did you all go to pound town?” Simon asked, picking the vibes from everyone too well. After a moment of silence, Simon grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Me too!”

You looked at him, shocked at the words that just came out of his mouth before you groaned and hid your face in your hands.

“Wait, what?!” Kate smirked, looking at you. “The love birds are back together?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you smiled, shaking your head.

“Holy shit,” Deena mumbled, nodding along with Kate. “The love birds are back.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you walked away, towards a classroom.

“She wasn’t able to resist my charm any longer,” Simon smirked at the girls, running after you. He caught up to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder before he pulled you closer to his body, kissing your temple gently. “I love you,” he mumbled against your hair.

You hummed, unable to hide the smile that was forming on your face. “I love you too, Simon.”

simon kalivoda taglist: wanna join? click the form here! ; @keeryhours ; @iitsmandii ; @bumblebeeswrite ; @prettycalla ; @alexa0813 ; @samslvrgirl ; @littlemissholy ; @robinbuckleywife ; @daliah-xxo ; @fallout-girl219

[tv-opinion]

i just wanna say that I heavily appreciate your posts and your stance on hbo's second season of tlou. it's genuinely exhausting seeing the immense amount of unwarranted hate that it gets, as well as the hate the characters and actors themselves receive (as if they're in control of that lmfao).

I also find it borderline mind-numbing when people mindlessly praise the season as well. Because it definitely has its flaws, and I think it's important to recognize those and to critique them. i just really appreciate how you look at every angle and talk about the season from both perspectives, it helps me stay sane through all the hate 😭

it's just genuinely depressing & exhausting when people are straight up shitting on enjoyers of the show and asking what is wrong with us (even if we just semi-enjoy it 😐) like my bad I'm just happy to see sapphics with a beautiful love story (even if it may have its flaws)

anyway sorry for this long ask 😭

thank you sm!! i definitely think healthy nuanced criticism is missing in this fandom and it’s so tiring. especially when some of those criticisms are just people acting like this is the worst show in the world and no one should enjoy it like mama just pick up the controller😭

i really try not to harp too much on things i didn’t enjoy from season 2 because there’s really not a lot. i’m just gonna keep enjoying my lesbians!!

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

Tom x f reader

Shes upset because all of her friends are hanging out without her and left her out. She’s crying in Tom’s arms, he’s comforting her.

First she’s just crying in his arms bcs she’s very hurt. Then he suggests to watch a movie together, but first they make some popcorn and snacks. Then they enjoy the movie and she feels better!

I FUCKING PROMISE | TOM KAULITZ

you didn’t mean to cry. you really didn’t.

you were just sitting on tom’s couch, phone in your hand, scrolling through stories that made your stomach twist in that horrible way — that slow, burning realization that everyone had been together. again. everyone.

but not you.

you stared at the photos for a long time.

they were laughing, arms around each other, matching outfits, inside jokes you weren’t a part of anymore — and they hadn’t even tried to hide it. not even a “wish you were here.” not even a text.

you blinked down at the screen like maybe you were missing something. maybe you missed a message. a call. a plan.

but no. your phone had been quiet all day.

and suddenly it was just too much. the kind of too much that breaks open from somewhere deep and sore inside of you.

the room felt way too silent, so you’d left. barefoot, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, you walked to the one place that ever felt safe when the world went dark and mean —

tom’s.

you walked to the kitchen and when he turned around the first thing he saw was your red, wet face.

“oh, baby…” he whispered, and that was all it took. your bottom lip trembled, and you folded into him without saying a word, burying your face into the warm, familiar scent of his hoodie.

he didn’t ask. not right away.

he just held you.

his arms wrapped around your waist like he already knew something in the world had broken you today. his chin rested lightly against the top of your head, his fingers brushing up and down your back in slow, steady lines.

you were shaking.

“you’re okay,” he murmured, soft and low, barely louder than the sound of his breath, “you’re with me now. i got you. i got you, baby.”

you didn’t want to cry harder. but you did.

he guided you to the couch again gently, like he was afraid you’d fall apart if he let go for even a second. he didn’t turn on the lights. just soft golden glow from the windows and the comfort of his quiet apartment, smelling faintly of weed, cologne, and the warmth that somehow always smelled like him.

you sat down, knees pulled to your chest, and he sat right next to you, thigh touching yours, hand still cradling the back of your head. he didn’t ask yet — he just let you cry.

“they left me out again.” you finally choked out, voice rough and small.

“my friends. they… they didn’t even tell me. they all hung out. i found out from their stories. and i thought maybe i did something wrong. i thought maybe they forgot me. but they didn’t. they just didn’t want me there.”

tom’s jaw tightened. he didn’t say anything right away, but his arm around you pulled tighter.

“baby…” he said, and it cracked your heart open a little more, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then why—” your voice broke, “why do they keep doing this? why am i always the one they leave out?”

“because they’re fucking stupid,” he said, low and sharp now, voice tight like he was hurting with you, “they don’t see how lucky they are to have you. they don’t get it. but i do. okay? i see you.”

you leaned into him more, sobs quiet but aching in your chest. “i just wanted to feel included. like i mattered to someone.”

he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, slow and warm, like a promise.

“you do matter,” he whispered into your hair, “to me. so fucking much. i hate that they made you feel like this. you don’t deserve that. you deserve people who would beg to spend time with you. who light up when you walk in the room. who notice when you’re not there.”

he tipped your chin up, made you look at him. his eyes were all soft fire. “that’s how i feel. every time i see you. like—fuck, there she is. there’s my girl.”

your heart ached in a whole new way now — the kind that was full of love and disbelief that someone could care about you this much, even when you felt so invisible.

“but what if they just… stop talking to me completely?” you whispered, voice shaky again.

“then they’re idiots,” he said immediately, “and they’ll lose the best thing they ever had. their loss. but i’m not going anywhere. ever.”

you looked at him, eyes glassy and wide, and all you could manage was a tiny, broken, “promise?”

he didn’t hesitate.

“i fucking promise.”

he wrapped you back in his arms, pulling a blanket over the two of you like a shield from the rest of the world. he let you stay curled up on his chest, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back while your breathing slowly evened out again.

he played with your hair, whispered things in german when he thought you were almost asleep — quiet, soothing things. schatz. ich bin hier. du bist nicht allein.

and for the first time that day, your heart didn’t hurt so much.

because you had tom.

and tom had you.

and sometimes that was enough to make the world a little softer again.

his hand kept running through your hair, slow and rhythmic, until the last few tears had dried on your cheeks and your breathing finally started to settle. the kind of calm that only came when you were held by someone who really, really meant it.

“you wanna stay here tonight?” he asked gently, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “or i can take you home, whatever you want.”

you just nodded against his chest, too tired to speak, clinging to the warmth of his hoodie and the steady beat of his heart beneath it.

he kissed the top of your head again, lips lingering there. “i’ve got something better,” he said softly, “you don’t need them. fuck them. let me take care of you tonight, yeah?”

you nodded again.

he smiled a little, and you felt it against your hair. “you trust me?”

“yeah, of course.” you whispered.

he shifted carefully, pulling you up with him as he stood, arms still wrapped around your waist. “good. because i’m putting on your favorite movie and we’re gonna lie in bed and not think about those assholes ever again.”

and that’s exactly what he did.

you ended up in his room, wrapped in one of his giant t-shirts and tucked under the fluffiest blanket he owned. he had his arm behind your head on the pillow, the other stretched across your waist like he needed to keep you close or he’d lose his mind. the lights were low, the only brightness coming from the tv screen at the end of his bed.

the opening music started, familiar and comforting. you relaxed a little.

“you sure you don’t mind watching this again?” you asked softly, already curled into his side like you belonged there.

his lips brushed your temple. “baby, i’d watch this a thousand times if it meant seeing you smile once.”

you did smile. just a little.

and when he saw it, his heart melted.

you kept your eyes on the screen, but he watched you more than the movie — eyes tracing the way your brows furrowed at the sad parts, the way your lips parted a little when you got lost in the story. he kissed your forehead during the boring scenes. tickled your side just enough to make you squirm when the tears started to well again.

and when the movie hit your favorite part — the one you always quoted, the one that made you believe in love again, just a little — tom repeated the line right along with it. word for word. but instead of looking at the screen, he looked straight at you.

“that’s how i feel about you,” he said after, voice soft like a secret, “just so you know.”

you didn’t answer. you just reached for up to cup his cheek and kissed him deeply, then you slid your hand under the blanket and held his tight.

and he held you back, tighter.

by the time the credits rolled, your head was on his chest and your legs tangled with his. the weight in your chest felt lighter. the ache, softer. not gone — but not so sharp anymore.

you looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “thank you for tonight.”

he leaned down, nose brushing yours. “you never have to thank me for loving you.”

and you knew he meant it.

he kissed you again, this time slow, and when he pulled back, you saw it in his eyes — the way he saw you. like you were the whole world. even on your worst day.

especially then.

you fell asleep like that — warm, safe, and finally, finally enough.

not because of them.

but because of him.

and in tom’s arms, for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Twenty

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Notes: Shorter than usual, but all Marshall's Pov! Hope you enjoy, lemme know what you think, always up for hearing everyones ideas or opinions:) X

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48 @antisocialsocialclub5

Masterlist

“I walk on water…”

Marshall bopped his head along to the words which flowed through the studio’s speakers, pen tapping away against the metal grating of the desk. 

They’d been at it for a while now, Z had gone to bed hours ago and it was quickly reaching the early hours of the morning, though it was hard to tell what with being confined to the bunker of a room. Still, if he had to hazard a guess, he’d say it was closer to three than four. Yet here they were, still going strong. 

“But I ain’t–”

It was only when the instrumental they’d been tinkering with continued on without the rest of the chorus and a too loud huff blew through the mic that he glanced back up, brows furrowing at the sight of Elia tugging the headphones off her head.

He rolled closer to the decks, reaching out to press at one of the mixer’s many buttons. “Yo, you good?”

Her eyes found his through the thick sheet of glass just as she shoved the headset back onto the mic stand, clearly agitated about something or other. Marshall briefly wondered what he’d missed.

His question went unanswered though and instead he watched on as the booth’s door flew open, rattling against the far wall to give the woman room to storm her way over to the couch before she practically threw herself down onto the damn thing. He blinked slowly, dropping the pen he’d held before he eventually turned in his chair to get a better look at her. 

In all the time they’d known one another, Marshall had figured that by now he had to have been witness to most, if not all, of the woman’s many moods. Reactions, even. But this here was different. Something other. Dissimilar to the anger and irritation she’d shown him earlier in the week, when he’d supposedly been messing with her head. 

He had. Just hadn’t realised how much, is all. 

It had been a weird fucking run for him too, fucking emotions always did him over in the end.

But no, this was… well, frustration at its finest. The type that had you questioning your own worth, pulling out your hair, or boarding the quickest train to shot city. He’d been there. Hell, hadn’t everybody? But he also had no fucking clue as to why she was being so temperamental over this one song. Why she suddenly felt that every take they’d tried wasn’t right. 

Maybe he was being biased, but he hadn’t heard a single note go pitchy, her tone fall flat, or her even miss a word in all the time they’d spent tryna record this shit. So it baffled him, you see. To watch her blow up over practically nothing. To give up at the first hurdle when earlier she’d been flying towards it, excited to trample that finish line ahead. 

Eventually, he let himself lean forward in his seat, blowing out a quiet breath, as watchful as ever. He couldn’t lie to himself, he was at an impasse here, unsure. He didn’t wanna push her. Didn’t want to overstep. Not where she was concerned. Not when they’d finally gotten to this sweet spot. To this one place where they were more than just testing the waters. 

Usually at this point with anyone, he’d have had them in his bed by now, up against the shower wall, or in the backseat of his car at the very least. But this– this whole fucking thing, this situation, messed with his head, had him second guessing every damn thing. His each and every move.

Stupidly, it was only then that he realised he hadn’t wanted to give himself the chance to fuck up any more than he already had. He was treading carefully here, with her. He wanted more. He wanted– 

Marshall shook his head, hating the way his thoughts could so often overwhelm him, swallow him whole and encase his mind. His fists clenched in his lap before he settled his forearms more openly on his thighs, taking another breath and letting it go. 

“Baby.” He called, voice not quite soft but deliberately muted now, wary about his footing as he tried to work out where he stood within the metaphorical minefield they’d apparently stumbled into.

She didn’t deign him with a reply, arm flailed out over her face, hair sprawled across and over the back of the leather couch. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, spinning the cap he wore backwards so that he could try and make out her face better the closer he grew.

The tap he gave her leg when he bent to take a seat beside her on the cushions was gentle, patient. An action he only ever typically used with his daughter, but found better suited this situation as well. He wet his lower lip, hand still for a long moment before it engulfed the majority of her knee, squeezing comfortingly before it slid an inch higher.

“You gone talk to me?” He questioned her, voice still low. His eyes trailed across the length of her arm before they caught on the tiny gap between the crook of her elbow and bridge of her nose, noting the tight press her lips now held.

He reached out for her again, this time settling further back into the cushions so that he could card a few strands of straying hair off of her temple. The skin there was soft as he brushed his thumb back over it, simply ‘cause he could. Before, he had wondered over this fact for far too long; on faraway phone calls, in the white noise that surrounded him whenever she left him with a text telling him she’d talk after her shower, on that day he’d had her pinned to the wall of this very studio.

She wore a tough exterior. A hardshell. Even with those many walls she had up. But beneath it all, she was as delicate as they came. Soft, in the sweetest of ways. Had his mind filled with thoughts that it shouldn’t be thinking. Especially not in a moment where the only thing her defences called for was a gentle hand, a listening ear. 

He’d never been good at any of that though. Not with women, at least. Never with women. Had been told it enough times for it to have been engrained somewhere deep in the scar tissue that was his apparent brain. Still, he wanted to fucking try. 

Somehow it felt a little easier now, for some fucking abstract reason, than it had before. 

Or maybe it was just all in his head. Maybe it was just her.

Yet, with all these thoughts he still found himself relaxing further into her side, fingers finding purchase in the roots of her hair whilst he simply stared up at the ceiling above them. Content to just wait. 

“You know. I only brought this house ‘cause of this singular room.” He murmured after a long minute had passed, figuring that if she didn’t wanna talk, he wouldn’t push her. Knew she was as stubborn as he was most days, and if he didn’t want to do something, he wasn’t gonna. No matter who the fuck asked. “Measurements just added up. Knew it the second I walked in, didn’t even have to ask for the square by square. Just felt it.”

He licked at his lower lip again, the muscles in his back untensing and falling deeper into the couch as he continued to speak, telling her about how the acoustics reverberated perfectly within the booth because of the slight curve the ceiling held and why he didn’t even have to think about painting the walls ‘cause he was obsessed with how the wood they were made out of made him feel like he wasn’t so confined. No matter how boxlike it could make the place look. Just gave off an earthy sort of feel, allowed him to breathe a little deeper. Pretend like he was out in the middle of nowhere; some forest off the coast or maybe just a cabin up high in the mountains. 

She listened all the while. He could tell from the way her arm grew limp over her face and how her breaths had since evened out in the time he spent mumbling away.

Still, it took her a bit to come around again. For that guard to slip. 

She shifted ever so slightly, falling into him in a way that had whatever tension remained in him slipping away entirely. He wrapped his arms around her, mouth twitching when he felt the curve of her cheek press against his shoulder and her hand fist his t-shirt.

“I hate the song.”

He immediately scoffed, smiling a little now.

“I do.” She was quick to reiterate, words muffled in the fabric of his collar, “Fuckin’ sucks.”

“Hm, and the moon’s blue, baby.” Marshall hummed into the crown of her head, not believing a word she was saying.

Her hand tightened its hold before it dropped to toy with the hem of his shirt. She played with the edge for a too-long second, then let go of a helpless sigh, “You’re right, I just suck. You should get someone else to sing it.”

He closed his eyes as he buried his face deeper into her hair, appreciating the sweet scent he was met with as he gently shook his head, chin brushing against the outer shell of her ear when he did. He pressed a kiss to her crown before reluctantly pulling away, fingers trailing over the bow of her shoulders, “Won’t release it then. Don’t want it if you ain’t on it.”

She didn’t like that. She groaned before huffing carelessly into his neck, breathing hot air over his skin and lighting up a trail of goosebumps across the flesh. His hand twitched with it, falling further downwards to trace the line of her spine.

“I can’t do it, Marshall.” She told him after a second had passed, voice barely even audible.

His eyes returned to the ceiling once more, wishing that he could read her mind. If only to find the right words to say.

“Then we won’t do it.” He finally heard himself speak, swallowing thickly before he leaned away to peer back down at her. She glanced back up at him then, whirlpools of green guarded by a defensive line of dark lashes. His lips parted on their own accord at the sight and he couldn't seem to stop the way he reached out to coax her chin up, thumbing at her jaw. “We won’t do it. OK?” He repeated.

She just shook her head, as much as she could with her chin still captured in his hold. He eased up, let his nail skim over the edge of her plush bottom lip. “I want to.” She murmured, tone oddly defeated, “I want to so badly. But I– I’m so in my head. I don’t want to ruin it for you. I don’t want people questioning it all. Asking how I managed to warp your ideals, for you to include me on this album. I don’t want this,” She gestured between the two of them then, “Whatever the fuck this is, to turn into something it isn’t. I don’t want you to–”

She stopped there. Hand flying up to wipe at the wetness which clung to her red rimmed eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t let go of a single tear, before she then pinched the bridge of her nose and sniffed.

“Want me to, what?” He murmured, taking hold of one of her wrists.

She shook her head, not wanting to say whatever the hell she was thinking out loud. He frowned, before he let his hand encase hers, dragging it closer to where their chests aligned. 

“Baby, nothing’s gone change. You hear me?” He told her, tightening the hold he had on her hand as he did. “Me ‘n you, we’re still working our shit out, yeah.. But that don’t mean whatever the fuck we got goin’ on here isn’t worth keeping. Worth– I don’t know, holdin’ onto. If I didn’t want this I would’ve dipped the second them photos hit the media. Probably even before that, like before I let you meet my friends.. my daughter.”

He ground his teeth, hating the way he could sometimes be so bad with words. Fumbling over what he really wanted to say and instead mixing it up with a bunch of crap that didn’t even make sense. He gritted out a heavy breath, but let himself soften at the warmth of her hand in his.

“Look, I don’t care if we release this song. I mean, it’s.. God, sweetheart, it’s good. Too fuckin’ good. An’ that’s all down to you. But that also don’t mean shit if your heart ain’t in it. If you don’t want the world hearin’ it.” Marshall continued on, blowing out something that almost resembled a chuckle before he peered back down at her, “You wanna record it just to keep for us? I’m down. I’ll blast it in my car, listen to it as I try to fuckin’ fall asleep, yeah? If you want to leave it completely, I’ll buy a safe. We can go down to the river and drop whatever audio of it inside, let it sink to the bottom. Ain’t no point in stressin’ over shit that you can’t change. Fans, the real fans, appreciate the semblance it’ll represent. And at the end of the day, that’s all I’ma care about. That and the fact that I got to create somethin’ like that with you.”

He inhaled through his nose and then blew it out in another airy sort of laugh, wondering when the fuck he’d grown so sappy. If it was old age, or something else entirely. 

“You hear me?” He prompted, “I don’t care, baby. Song or no song, album will still go out. Still get a couple sales. Still keep Dre and Paul off my back. Only difference is I’ll know that all them people will be missin’ out. ‘Cause you? You’re everything music’s been lackin’ lately. And this song, it shows that. It means something to you. I know it does. Means something to me, too.”

The look she gifted him in that next moment had his mind stilling. As though every thought, notion, and defence had left his very being and slipped out of the first exit they could find. It went quiet. Silent.

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been able to block all that noise out.

Now, it was almost eerie how fast it could happen, how fast it had happened. He found himself simply staring back at her, and with all the softness a man like him could muster, he cradled her face in his palms as though she was some invaluable piece of artwork that had just been rediscovered. And it was only then, when he leaned in and she didn’t think before meeting him halfway, her hands already clinging to the nape of his neck, that his mind rebooted. Came to life. And fuck if the thought he was met with didn’t scare him to death.

[str0yberries]

Aoi's (possible) MDD diagnosis

MDD, phonetics [em-di-di], refers to Major Depressive Disorder also known as clinical depression. It’s a mental disorder characterized by at least two weeks of pervasive low mood, low self-esteem and loss of interest in things previously enjoyed. So when I saw a few TBHK fans say the MDD diagnosis doesn't apply because the BPD one applies more, I have to take them up on the challenge!! Just to clarify one last time, I agree with the BPD diagnosis, but pushing off the MDD entirely out of the equation is simply reckless. Let's go ahead and refer to Canon media for pre-timeline Aoi (given we know close to nothing to the new timeline Aoi!)

Criterion A needs to meet 3 requirements: 5 or more of the following symptoms, Occur for at least 2 weeks and At least (1) or (2) must be present.

1. Depressed mood indicated either by subjective report (e.g., feels sad, empty or irritable) or observation made by others (e.g., appears tearful)  Aoi's mood is something she masks. As you read the proof I've provided underneath each symptom, you'll see Aoi's "sadness" and feeling easily hurt always ties back. She is a petty character, and petty character will, undeniably, make themselves miserable. This is an exemple of her aggressively lashing out at Akane (by this point, the drug has dissipated, for context to those that might've forgotten.)

2. Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day (as indicated either by subjective account or observation made by others) Anhedonia. Aoi is known at the start of the manga as Nene's best friend and her gardening club buddy. While the manga has never explicitly detailed her love for gardening, there is a scene in chapter 59 where Aoi asks Akane to take a walk in the garden with her, which he declines (but that's besides the point) which shook her. This suggests a possible connection to her love to plants and gardens, but it's not a clear indication of a love for gardening itself. Aoi's other interests, such as her love for raspberry pie, giraffes, and quiet winter nights, are more explicitly mentioned, but here, she looks so gloomy to flowers especially considering her interest rapidly grows the second Hakubo destroys it accidentally (please refer to the 9th symptom).

3. Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain (e.g., a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month) or a considerable appetite change. N/A, the manga does not focus enough on Aoi to point this out. 4. Insomnia or hypersomnia nearly every day. N/A, the manga does not focus enough on Aoi to point this out. 5. Psychomotor agitation or retardation (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down) When Aoi was kidnapped by Shinigami-san (Hakubo), she didn't react quickly or wiggle out as desperately as she wished. Seemingly slowed down. Although it only was showcased once, it is important to mention that Nene and Akane are much more panicked than her. Her mind is obviously telling her to move, get away, get out of this situation, but seemingly her body isn't following. Her instinct to live isn't moving according to her obvious will to get out. Even when Akane grabbed her, she doesn't react, her body slowing her down.

6. Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day N/A, the manga does not focus enough on Aoi to point this out. 7. Feelings of worthlessness or excessive self-deprecation or inappropriate guilt (which may be delusional) nearly every day  Aoi seems to experience this inappropriate amount of guilt and take things Nene does personally instead of thinking the obvious: Her best friend is a weirdo. This could be excused with the fact she cannot see Supernaturals. Regardless, it led her immediately to presume Nene hated her. She also shows excessive self-deprecation when talking about herself to Akane, claiming if she married him, he'd be disappointed.

8. Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, (either by subjective account or as observed by others) Aoi isn't a character that showcases her indecisiveness. She can be stubborn like any other human being and she's prideful, but when it comes to Akane, she is known to be indecisive whether to indulge him or let him go (because she doesn't think he truly loves her). That's why I look at this symptom and just want to scream "I SEE IT!! I SEE IT!!" But I can't find any proof besides this panel in chapter 68 when she's making an all-time decision between leaving him behind or staying with him.

9. Recurrent thoughts of death (not just the craving or fear of dying), recurrent suicidal ideation, or a suicide attempt or specific plan for committing suicide Aoi is an interesting character. Not only is she ACTIVELY interested in the occult and horror stories (when initially she claimed it was only because Nene liked them) but she thinks about death more than the main character who is plagued and doomed by the storyline due to her short lifespan. Here are a few examples of her expression softening, or even how peaceful she looks when death faces her.

Criterion B: The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. Canonly, it causes impairment in the social department of Aoi's life as Akane annotated. She struggles with making viable and long-lasting meaningful relationships due to not putting in energy to reach out first to individual.

Criterion C: Exclusion criteria- Not due to another mental disorder (e.g., bipolar), medical condition or drug. Note that there can be another mental disorder, but then this becomes a depressive episode, and therefore not Major Depressive Disorder. Here it's arguable on whether or not she fulfills this criteria. The version of the manga I have doesn't clearly state she was drugged, plus, quite a bit of her behaviour came out despite the drugging, which is why I decided to still put them down in this diagnosing. On top of it, no canon mental disorder is confirmed for Aoi (even if BPD is very much implied).

Take this with a grain of salt, I do think Aoi has BPD with traits of MDE (Major depressive episode - otherwise known as High functioning long-term depression). This was only a fun revision for my psychology class on why it isn't entirely inconceivable for Aoi to have MDD. Feel free to provide more proof or even just tell me if you think I'm wrong on a symptom. I had a ton of fun making this!