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anadrym · 3 days ago

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Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch24.

Spoilers!

Chapter title is from "Prodigal Son" by Rationale. I think of Vi and Vander every single time I listen to it, and it makes me want to cry.

Vi startles awake and immediately goes on the defensive... until she recognizes Caitlyn and remembers where she is. Then she goes straight into comfort mode. She's been conditioned to be afraid, but the second she overcomes that animal instinct, she becomes Vi again - the caretaker, the protector. That something the Baroness was never able to take from her.

We will get to see what Caitlyn's nightmare was about in the next chapter. You probably have your suspicions, especially if you noticed the way she takes a few seconds to register that Vi's right next to her.

She hesitates to hug Vi back though because she's still trying to not distract from Vi's recovery. Caitlyn is still at war with herself - part of her wants to set her own needs aside to keep the focus on Vi; but the other part just really wants Vi to comfort her too, because she's been yearning for that for five years.

I like to think that both Vi and Caitlyn liked to run their hands through each other's hair. Which just makes it more tragic that only one of them can still do that.

Petra's still been sleeping on the couch. I thought about having her stay in one of the other apartments - she didn't rent Cait's out because she was hoping she'd come back - but I don't think that would make sense. Vi is still sick and weak, and Caitlyn is too exhausted and overwhelmed to care for Vi herself. Petra wouldn't leave them on their own.

Petra - like many of us - had an idea this would happen. Nightmares are pretty common among the traumatized.

Caitlyn, who just woke up screaming, is shaking and drenched in sweat, and has her face pressed into Vi's chest: I'm good. It's no big deal.

Petra is so fucking stressed, you guys. She's never dealt with someone as malnourished as Vi before, but she can't really get help because there are so many risks to trusting the wrong person. On top of that, Caitlyn is about two steps from a breakdown at any given point - think about what she's been through this past week or so - and Petra's got all of her other responsibilities. And she's not sleeping well because she's stuck on the couch.

So remember that I like to have Vi and Cait communicate about being "okay" in kind of 'lies.' That's not worded well. But basically, Caitlyn insists here that she's fine. She knows Vi won't buy that and she's not trying to convince her to. "I'm alright" in this case, is kind of a way to say "it's not something to worry about, it'll pass." This time, Vi disagrees. I think the key here is that Caitlyn is trying to convince herself that she doesn't need anything more than she's trying to convince Vi.

We had to empty the pitcher of water so that Vi would have a reason to get up and leave the room (aside from not being able to be alone). It's always fun (nor really) to find a small plot hole when you're writing, panic for a bit, and then fill it in with something as minor as 'well, what if the pitcher was empty?' (See also Ch13 and the whole 'what if the guy just told her where the entrance to the basement was?')

Uh-oh, they have separation anxiety. And of course, they're both trying to do what's best for the other. Caitlyn tries to stay so Vi's not without her, Vi pretends that she'll be okay so Caitlyn can take a shower.

Absolutely love how nobody in this situation considered just having Vi go into the bathroom with Caitlyn and hang out there while she showered. I mean, it's good for them to spend time apart, especially when they are unhealthily co-dependent right now, but still.

This is so minor, but Petra has gotten out a few changes of clothes for both Vi and Caitlyn, washed them, and put them with the rest of the clean laundry - towels and bedding - on the dresser.

Petra has a feeling that Vi isn't okay without Caitlyn in sight, but she's also trying to respect boundaries. If Vi says she's okay with being alone, Petra's not going to insist on staying; she doesn't know if Vi actually wants some privacy. So she leaves, but she leaves the door open so she can hear if Vi changes her mind.

I don't know if I would say Vi is claustrophobic after spending five years in a cell, but she certainly doesn't like to be alone in small rooms. Honestly, I think she'd be more comfortable in a very cramped space than in an empty room.

Petra's fucking exhausted. :(

Again, that right knee. I don't even know where I got that, but I just have it in my head that Vi's right knee is a little weaker than her left. Which makes it a little bit harder for her to get around when her left leg is also injured.

"Hoping the bite of it will dull the burn" - I like that line. :)

I like the idea that Petra realizes that Vi doesn't want to be alone and that's why she asks to sit with her. But she doesn't do anything other than just quietly keep her company until Vi initiates the conversation.

When Petra turns her attention to the hallway, right before Vi asks about the time, she's thinking that Caitlyn's been in the shower for longer than she expected. She would've gone to check on her if Vi hadn't started talking.

Unless I'm mistaken, this is the first name from her past (other than Caitlyn's) that Vi has remembered. It would've been Powder's except that her memory is jogged here.

All bartenders know each other.

Normal 15-year-olds: dealing with hormones, growing up and figuring out who they are, expectations, etc. 15-year-old Vi: all of that plus poverty, the death of her entire family, and being imprisoned with no expectation of getting back out. Understatement of the fucking century, indeed.

I took a ridiculously long time trying to figure out exactly what Vander taught Vi, what she would remember, and what she would tell someone else. But I am on board with the headcanon that Vi can cook. And I'm pretty sure that, in League lore, she repairs and modifies her gauntlets. And of course she knows how to patch someone up.

It's always so interesting to delve into a character who is willing to die, but doesn't want to. Vi would throw her life away in a heartbeat to save a loved one (and even someone she doesn't like, I'm sure). But she wants to live. The thing is... she's tired. She's lost so much - her family, her freedom, her memories - and she just... wishes things were different. I don't know how to word it so it makes more sense than that.

I'm also obsessed with characters who just can't give up. Vi survived Stillwater for seven years, even though she was smaller than most of the other inmates and regularly beaten by the guards and put in solitary god knows how many times. She resisted the Baroness for five years, despite the torture and starvation. How many times has her body begged her to just lay down and sleep and just never wake up again? How many times has her mind been so consumed by hopelessness that it tried to convince her to just let go? But she can't. She just can't.

"He drops a pair of iron fists and picks up a pair of orphans" - This line! Okay! I have so many thoughts about this, but I'll try to keep this concise and coherent. This was the action that started the whole thing. Vander abandons his war and chooses peace. He abandons his rage and chooses love. He abandons his ideals to protect his family. Vi does the exact same thing. It's about the choice to give up the anger that helps you survive so you can find a reason to live instead. You guys have to listen to the song for this chapter, please, it means so much to me.

Also: "love and loss have always gone hand-in-hand for her." Something about being unable to lose what you don't have. Vi loves so fiercely, so when she loses it's devastating. And she chooses to love anyway. God, she is one of the most characters of all time.

Back when I first came up with Petra, I didn't really mean for her to be similar to Vander. But she had to be the kind of person that Vi and Caitlyn needed after their ordeal. And that ended up being someone with a gruff attitude and gentle hands and the inability to turn away someone who needs help.

I will fucking fight anyone who disagrees with this: Vi is not stupid. She's not smart in the same way Caitlyn is exactly, but she's so smart. She notices things, she makes connections the same way Caitlyn does. She's Caitlyn's partner. As the Baroness put it, "her intellectual equal." Vi is so smart, you guys.

So, in case it wasn't clear enough, Petra (and Nasir) are part of an underground network of sorts that smuggle people out of human trafficking situations (mostly the sex trade). Petra is mostly involved in collecting information and taking care of victims once they've been freed. That's why she has so many spare clothes and knows how to deal with trauma. That's also why she's been so careful to get Vi's consent to approach or touch her.

Petra's comment about most of the people she's taken care of not being like Vi is referencing two things: first, Vi is in much worse physical shape than the others; none of them were quite as malnourished, none of them were fighting such a bad infection, and none of them were half-dead when they got to her. And second, Petra gets the feeling that Vi wasn't raped. She's desperate for touch, not shying away from it. She's fine with being "exposed" (she's only wearing underwear and an oversized robe), even in front of a strange man (the doctor). And she's had no strong reaction to them treating the wound on the inside ot her thigh.

The two paragraphs comparing Vi's situation to rape were honestly a little hard to write, but I really think it was important to connect the experiences because it does kind of inform what Vi's going through. Her body was used for someone else's gain, despite her best efforts to fight back. And the Baroness certainly took pleasure in the psychological torture involved in that. And the line "You don't fuck a weapon" explains exactly why that's what the Baroness did; raping Vi would involve some degree of treating her as a person, even in a twisted way.

Remember that Vi has no idea what's happened to Caitlyn since they were separated. For all she knows, Caitlyn could have been captured and trafficked before coming to Petra's. That didn't happen, of course, but Vi can't know that until she's told.

Petra adopts people like stray animals. Caitlyn is a feral cat she fed once, who then decided to stick around because she had no other place to go. (Vi is the injured puppy that said feral cat dragged back after disappearing for several days.)

Mmm, asking if Caitlyn was okay even though she already knows the answer, just because she's desperately hoping that she's wrong. And then learning that she was right. Vi doesn't remember that she pushed Caitlyn into the river to save her during the Purge, but she does understand that whatever decisions were made that night resulted in both of them suffering for five years. The tragedy is that, had that decision not been made, neither of them would've been free enough to feel that suffering, if they survived at all. And then they never would've made it back to each other.

The part where Petra considers Vi before telling her that Caitlyn would hook up with women? She's pretty sure Vi won't react poorly (jealousy or anger), but she's ready to defend Caitlyn if she does.

Okay, okay, okay. I mentioned this way back in Ch4, but Caitlyn did consider moving on. She tried to convince herself to find someone else, but she couldn't do it. It felt too much like a betrayal, even though it's what Vi wanted for her. Vi died so that Caitlyn could live, but Caitlyn couldn't bring herself to actually live. (Why do you think she chose the name Ghost?) Every time she tried, she just imagined Vi in place of whatever other woman. So she stopped trying. Was she punishing herself, or keeping up her defenses so she wouldn't get hurt again? Kinda. But not consciously.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that the real reason Caitlyn didn't move on wasn't self-hatred or fear. It was love.

The thing is, Caitlyn's not thinking clearly enough right now to have the self-awareness for this conversation. She's exhausted and anxious; she's not in the right mental state to be sorting out all these emotions. That's why I had Petra talk to Vi about this. The girls are still dancing around each other, so someone needed to step in and give one of them that last little push.

And of course, there's the clash of relief and guilt. Caitlyn didn't move on. Vi finally has her partner back and she's still hers, she's not going to leave her for someone else. (I think Vi has issues not only with being left behind, but also with being replaced - in the show as well, to some degree - but I can't get into that right now.) But at the same time, Caitlyn hasn't been happy in five years and, to some degree, that's Vi's fault.

BUT. Petra's right. In the end, Caitlyn is the reason Caitlyn didn't move on. Caitlyn made that decision. And it is absolutely okay for Vi to be glad that she did.

Also, I love Petra only using their names when she really needs them to listen. (She's also still using 'Ghost' because Caitlyn hasn't said otherwise. She hasn't been given permission to use it, so she doesn't.)

Again, about intention not mattering. Vi didn't mean for Caitlyn to be so caught up in her grief that she spent the last five years alone. Caitlyn didn't mean to leave Vi behind to be tortured and used by the Baroness for the past five years. Neither of them meant for the other to suffer. But they both made choices that ended up with them suffering all the same.

Vi didn't manage the broth well because she was sensitive to the salt, and it came back up because of the panic attack. But it's been a little bit and she's feeling a little better, so she handles the tea just fine. I also like the idea that she often had tea with Tobias.

Yeah, I've officially decided that a good part of the reason Vi's hands are shaking so much is neurological. Yeah, the injury has healed, but she got shot in the head. There's gotta be some brain damage, and I don't want to go too far into speech issues or emotional regulation. There will be some minor memory problems later.

Yeah, Caitlyn was supposed to be here, but this chapter was long enough without her. Besides, she's napping. :)

Teaser for the next chapter:

"I love you," Vi whispers.

Caitlyn's breath hitches. Her heart stutters. She feels like she's falling.

Five years. She's been yearning to hear those words in that voice for five fucking years.

Her gaze flickers down to Vi's lips and then back up to her rain-grey eyes. She can feel her own lips trembling as she breathes, "Can I kiss you?"

#my writing #extended author's notes #left behind #all the things we left behind

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changbin-froggy-jimin · 5 months ago

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Shoutout to my friend who got me a job and I’m moving apartments to be closer to the job and I’ll be living in the same building with her and we both bonded over ATEEZ but I lost my special interest in ATEEZ like a week ago and kinda kpop as a whole because I saw Shadow the Hedgehog on the big screen and now he’s all I can think about…. I really don’t know how she’s going to react when I tell her I don’t care about it that deeply anymore, I don’t think this girl has ever heard of a hyper fixation before

#three weeks ago ATEEZ was all I thought about/wanted to write about/wanted to talk about #I met that emo hedgehog for the first time in the theater for a movie I hadn’t even seen the first two parts of #I legit said ‘hey! he’s emo and autistic like me (or so I had heard) and he was and I am and now… shadow the hedgehog)#I closed that sentence wrong but I’m on Mobile and I’m not changing it #my hair is black and red again #I have my mom scouring America for shadow #I have my name on the build a bear shadow plush wishlist #I want to buy red eyeliner so I can do my eyes like him #obsessed #absolutely obsessed #fuck real men I’m gonna hyper focus on a fucking hedgehog for the next foreseeable future #shoutout to the fanfics I never finished!!!!#I’ve played a video game for the first time in 8 years #I bought I fucking Biolizard Lego set today and I have the shadow one sitting on the shelf too #I haven’t ever bought legos for myself #fuck gambling im going sober no more boy paper I only like plastic fucking hedgehogs now #probably going to save me so much money tbh #they have a concert here next month and I’m going to have to pretend to care and be as hyped as my friends are #maybe the concert will fix me but honestly who knows #Anyways…#froggy writes

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witchywithwhiskey · 18 days ago

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kiss me softly

pairing: best friend!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you're distracted during movie night with your best friend, and when he convinces you to tell him what's on your mind, it leads to so much more...

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, tit play/nipple sucking, dry humping, dirty talk, some degradation, some objectification, referenced dumbification, vaguely referenced free use, praise kink, begging, teasing, kissing (so much kissing), Bucky's a lil possessive, pet names (doll, pet, baby), aftercare, friends to lovers

word count: 4.7k

a/n: how many times have i written a bucky barnes friends to lovers fic on a couch? SO many times! and will i write it again? probably!!! anyway, here's my contribution for week 2 of @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer! i didn't use allllll the prompts but i still had a lot of fun writing this one, so i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

prompt: “Did I give you permission?” | [Cock Cage | Orgasm Delay/Denial | Master/Pet Roleplay]

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

“That’s a mean frown ya got over there, doll.”

Bucky Barnes’ comment broke you from your thoughts, and you blinked, realizing you’d been staring unseeingly at the TV in your living room. Shaking yourself lightly, you glanced over to the other side of the couch, where your best friend was lounging comfortably for your movie night.

Even with the vaguely concerned expression on his face, Bucky looked far too good in a plain black t-shirt and a simple pair of gray sweatpants. You’d always known your best friend was handsome, but there was something about seeing him sprawled out on your couch, taking up so much space in your home, it had you feeling a certain type of way…

“Do you not like the movie I chose?”

You startled slightly at Bucky’s question, and abandoned the trail your thoughts had been wandering down. They wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Bucky was your best friend, not some guy to scratch an itch that you could probably just ignore.

“No, no,” you assured him, looking back at the TV. He’d put on some 90s action movie that you normally would’ve enjoyed, but you’d seen it so many times, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from getting distracted. “I’m just thinking,” you said on an exhale, rearranging yourself on the couch so your legs were tucked underneath you.

“Must be serious to have you frowning like that,” Bucky teased, shifting his body so he was facing you, ignoring the movie as it played on, even though it was one of his favorites. “C’mon, doll, tell your best friend what’s troubling you—it’s what I’m here for.”

Bucky flashed a charming grin your way, and you couldn’t help but melt a little. Your best friend always had that effect on you. He could convince you to do anything he wanted with just some sweet words and that dazzling smile.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t use his superpowers for evil—just for a little bit of trouble. Like that time he’d talked you into getting some finance guy at a bar in Tribeca to buy you extra drinks so Bucky could drink for free too.

The guy hadn’t been very happy when he learned he’d been bankrolling you and your best friend for the night, but you’d ditched him and the bar before a fight could break out. You and Bucky had collapsed against each other on the subway ride home to Brooklyn, laughing together, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where yours ended and your best friend’s began…

Wrenching yourself out of that memory, you forced yourself to focus on Bucky.

“I just…” you began and trailed off, suddenly realizing how pathetic you were going to sound when you gave voice to what you’d been thinking about. Chewing on your lip, you wondered if there was a way to phrase it so you didn’t sound quite so pitiful.

When inspiration failed to strike, your helpless gaze met Bucky’s eyes across the couch. He ducked his head and looked at you from under his lashes, giving you an encouraging nod.

“I won’t judge you, doll, you know that,” he said, his voice low and rumbly in a way that made your stomach flip and a little tingle to flutter between your thighs. His expression was so open and sincere, you squirmed, ignoring your body’s reaction.

“I know,” you said, nodding, and letting your gaze drop to your fingers in your lap. “It’s just a little silly.” You tried to laugh, but it came out strained. Your fingers picked at your nails—a nervous habit your best friend had pointed out to you years ago.

Bucky scooted across the couch, until he was close enough to place one of his warm hands over yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting.

You knew you were being ridiculous. You knew Bucky wouldn’t judge you, you didn’t know why you were so nervous about talking to him. So you told yourself to be brave. You took a deep breath and looked at your best friend, meeting his bright blue eyes.

“I was thinking about…kissing.”

Your words hung in the air for a moment, then two. Then Bucky cocked his head to the side and a little line formed between his brows, his expressions morphing into confusion. Before he could ask his question, though, you rushed on, suddenly eager to get it all out once you’d started.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed,” you explained, your voice breathless from the flood of words spilling from your mouth. “And I was thinking about how nice it would be for someone to take my face in their hands and just…kiss me softly—kiss me like they mean it.”

The whisper of your words trailed off, leaving the muted sounds of the movie and the city beyond your living room to press down on your shoulders. At some point, you’d dropped your gaze again to your lap, where your hands had turned over, fingers slotting between Bucky’s. As you watched, his hand gave yours a little squeeze.

You didn’t see Bucky move, but you heard him. You heard the couch creak and the rustle of fabric as he slid across the cushions until his gray cotton-clad thigh was pressed against your bare knees.

Just like Bucky, you’d dressed comfortably for movie night, wearing a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that might’ve belonged to him once. But you’d commandeered it so long ago, you thought of it as yours.

“Is that what you want?” Bucky asked, his voice even lower and rumblier, sending the butterflies in your stomach spiraling.

The fingers of his other hand were gentle when they slid against your jaw, tipping your face toward him. Your best friend’s blue eyes looked practically electric in the dim light of the room, and there was something, something like hunger, wading deep in their depths. The emotion called to something deep inside you.

“Do you want me to kiss you, pet?”

That nickname—the one Bucky only used when you were half asleep, snuggled up close, your heads huddled together, your limbs entwined while you lay in bed or on the couch after a long night of watching movies or drinking at the bar—sent a warm flush through your body.

You hadn’t been thinking about Bucky when you’d been thinking about someone kissing you, but in a matter of moments, it had become all you could think about. Suddenly, you were all too aware of your best friend.

His breaths were coming a little faster, and his blue eyes had darkened, his pupils blowing wide as his gaze searched your face. You could smell the faint hint of salt and butter on his lips from the popcorn you’d eaten earlier, and you could see every grain of the dark stubble shifting on his clenching jaw.

There was a hesitance, a nervousness, you rarely, if ever, saw in your best friend, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He wanted this. He wanted it as badly as you did, and knowing that made you brave.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged on a whisper, meeting his gaze with your own, your eyes wide and pleading. You leaned into his touch, his thumb stroking your cheek rhythmically.

For a moment that seemed to last forever, Bucky stared into your eyes, as if searching your soul for any reason to pause. When he found none, the edge of his mouth curled in a smile.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” he rumbled in a teasing tone that had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Then Bucky leaned forward, and you did the same, until your breaths mingled and you could feel the warmth of him on your lips.

Your mouths met in a tentative brush, so soft you would’ve thought you imagined it if it wasn’t for the shock of electricity that zipped down your spine. You tilted your face, searching for more, and Bucky’s lips met yours again in another cautious kiss.

Heat bloomed in your body, unfurling in your chest and taking root low in your belly, your racing pulse thrumming between your thighs. It was a slow-building pleasure, but then, all of a sudden, you were ravenous for more. You pressed closer, fingers curling around Bucky’s shoulders, tongue flicking experimentally against his upper lip.

He groaned like he was in the greatest pain, but then his hands were wrapping around your waist, spanning your ribcage, and he was hauling you closer. His mouth covered yours and he deepened the kiss, giving you exactly what you needed without you having to ask.

Bucky devoured you, his lips moving against yours in a greedy push and pull that had you moaning wantonly into his mouth. When your lips parted, his tongue plunged inside, taking control of the kiss while his fingers tightened on your body.

Your best friend held you like you were priceless, and kissed you like you were inescapable. Bucky kissed you like he’d been waiting years—decades—to get his mouth on you, and you’d only needed to ask.

It was dizzying, overwhelming and wonderful in the best way. You kissed him back with all the pent up yearning that had been locked away in your heart, consuming him just as much as he was you.

Only when your lungs were burning for air did you wrench your lips from Bucky’s with a gasp. Over your desperate, panting breaths, you heard him growl, his hands cupping your face as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Did I give you permission to pull away, pet?”

The possessiveness in Bucky’s tone made you melt, and a whimper of desire slipped from your lips. You’d never seen this side of your best friend, but it made you nearly feral for more.

“Bucky,” you whined his name pitifully. Your fingers were clinging to his t-shirt and trying to tug him closer on the couch, but you were already as close as you could possibly be while you sat next to each other.

At your desperate whimpering, Bucky softened, a smile flirting around the edges of his mouth. “C’mere, pet,” he purred, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

Then your best friend was manhandling you into his lap, arranging you so your legs straddled his thighs. Your ass was perched over his groin, where you could feel a thick bulge pressing into the center of your body, making heat cascade down your spine as wetness dripped from your slit.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you mewled, rolling your hips instinctively and grinding against his cock through your clothes. “Did you—did you get this hard from kissing me?” you whispered, stumbling over your words but forcing them out because you needed to know the answer.

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky rumbled, affection in his tone as his hands dove beneath your oversized t-shirt to skate up and down your spine. You felt electric heat burst everywhere he touched. “My best friend’s sweet kisses made me this hard.”

He lifted his hips, digging his bulge into your soft mound, dragging a helpless moan from your lips. He pressed his grin into the underside of your jaw.

“You feel so good, pet,” he murmured into your skin, like he was confessing a secret. “Your mouth is a dream that’s haunted me for years, and now that I’ve had a taste, there’s no going back for me. You’ve wrecked me, baby, and I need so much more of you.”

With one hand cupping your jaw, Bucky dragged your mouth back to his and he kissed you like a starving man—like he’d been lost in a desert for days and you were his first sip of water.

You kissed him just as greedily, launching yourself off the ledge the two of you had been dangling from for years, neither one wanting to be the first one to jump. But now he had, and you were happy to follow him in his freefall, knowing he’d catch you and hold you safely in his arms.

When you needed air, Bucky’s mouth trailed down your jaw to your neck, his lips finding your thumping pulse and sucking on your skin until you were whining. While you gasped for breath, he found every spot on your neck that made you hotter and needier, until you were squirming your hips impatiently on his lap.

“I need more, too, Bucky,” you huffed, spreading your legs wider over his thighs so that you could press down more firmly on your best friend’s cock. You fingers sank into his soft brown hair, holding his face to your neck while you rolled your hips in a dizzying frenzy. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

Bucky stilled beneath you, and it was only then that you realized what you’d said. You sucked in a surprised breath, not sure where that boldness had come from—though you suspected it had something to do with the fact that you felt safe and comfortable enough with your best friend to freely speak your frustrated mind.

Leaning back, you caught sight of Bucky’s face, his eyes meeting yours as humor and lust roiled in their blue depths, like he was eager to meet your challenge. He wore a dark and hungry smirk, and his hands tightened where they held you, pulling you close until your chest was pressed tight to his.

“Does my pretty little pet need my cock?” Bucky asked, his tone agonizingly condescending, and making you drip so much you began to worry you’d leave a wet spot on his gray sweatpants. But then he distracted you with more filthy words. “D’you need your best friend to fuck that achy, greedy pussy between your soft thighs, huh?”

“Jesus, Buck,” you gasped, a little surprised to find out your best friend had such a filthy mouth.

But you didn’t hate it—far from it. You wanted more, you wanted him to fuck you and talk you through it, so you went on, hoping that if you were vocal, he’d keep talking dirty to you.

“Y-yes, I need you, need you to fuck me, Bucky, please!”

Not needing to be asked twice, Bucky flipped you down onto your back on the couch, taking care to make sure you didn’t knock your head against anything but the pillows. Then his hands were manhandling your legs together, dragging your sleep shorts and panties over your hips and off in one swift movement.

While he reached behind his back and yanked his t-shirt off, you pulled yours over your head, discarding it and your bra as quickly as you could manage. Once free, your hands immediately went to your tits, groping your soft flesh and rolling your nipples between your fingers as you stared up at the muscular chest of your best friend.

Bucky’s big body pushed between your thighs, which you spread eagerly for him, your knees hugging his ribs while he shoved his sweatpants down. When his cock bounced free, you gasped softly at the sight of him—so thick and hard and perfect.

For a moment, the two of you paused, like you’d both just realized you were naked in front of each other for the first time. Your gaze roamed hungrily over Bucky’s body, appreciating the breadth of his shoulders, the slight taper of his waist, the soft trail of hair leading down to his hard cock.

The moment dragged on for so long, you managed to tear your eyes away from your best friend’s cock to look at his face. Bucky’s handsome face was slack with desire, his darkened blue eyes roving over your body with the same kind of awe you’d felt when looking at him.

His gaze lingered on your chest, watching your fingers idly play with your nipples. You squeezed your tits harder, making yourself gasp and arch up off the couch. Bucky’s cock gave an answering twitch and he grabbed it in one fist, pumping himself slowly while he marveled at you.

It felt good to be the object of your best friend’s lust, but you could feel your pussy leaking and pulsing, begging to be filled. You decided Bucky could watch you all he wanted—but later, after he’d fucked you.

“Buck, please, I need your cock,” you whined, your hands leaving your body to reach for him. Your fingers curled around his shoulders and you dragged him down on top of you, his knuckles brushing against your soft mound and making you moan.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

His mouth was hot and demanding, his kiss slow and drugging, stealing your breath until your head was spinning. When he pulled away, it was only to speak more filth against your lips.

“Your tits are so pretty, pet,” he murmured, using his thumb to press his cock between your soaked folds, dragging his shaft through your lower lips to make himself slick with your juices. “Can’t wait to suck on ‘em while my dick’s buried in your cunt. Wanna hear your pretty whines while I suck your tits and you clench around my fat cock.”

“Fuck, Bucky,” you huffed, fingers carding through his hair and dragging him to your mouth for a messy kiss.

“What, ya like it when I talk dirty, baby?” Bucky asked teasingly when he pulled away. There was a ridiculously charming grin on his face, like he already knew the answer to his question. Which, of course, he did.

You couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement, your lips curving in a smile. “I love it,” you mumbled, pulling him in for another deep kiss before finishing your thought. “Love hearing all the filthy things you wanna do to your best friend.”

Bucky groaned, his cock throbbing against your pussy, and then he was pulling his hips back until the tip was notched at your hole. He paused, lifting up enough for his eyes to search yours.

In that moment, neither of you needed words. The hunger and desire and need swirling through your body was reflected in Bucky’s dark blue gaze, and though your lips parted to beg him to finally slide inside, all you had to do was nod.

Bucky thrust forward slowly, carefully, and yet you still gasped when the head of his cock pushed inside your tight hole. It had been a while since you’d had anyone or anything inside you, and even though Bucky wasn’t intimidatingly big, you still felt the stretch of your body accommodating him.

“Y’alright, pet?” he murmured against your cheek, his scruff tickling your skin, his mouth never straying far from yours.

“Yeah, just—just go slow,” you whispered back, fingers hooked around his shoulders, nails digging into his warm muscles.

“You tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, alright?” he rumbled in a stern voice that had the butterflies fluttering in your belly again. He pulled back enough to give you a serious look. “I want you to enjoy this.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up in a half smile and you pulled him down for yet another kiss. Even though your lips were swollen from kisses, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough from Bucky, especially the ones where you were both smiling too much to brush your lips against each other’s.

He pushed forward, using your distraction to slide a little deeper. You tensed at the stretch of feeling him fill you more, waiting for the pain—but nothing came. Bucky’s hands soothed over your bare skin, using his words to distract you again.

“I want you to want to do this again, baby, because I already know that I will—I’m gonna wanna fuck you again and again and again, until you’re nothing more than a dumb, mindless pet who’s drunk on my cock, your cunt squeezing me tight every time I make you come. Wanna drain my balls in your pretty pussy until you’re overflowing with me.”

A moan slipped from your lips at Bucky’s words, you cunt clenching tight around the tip of his cock. Instinctively, you spread your thighs wider around your best friend’s body, allowing him to sink even deeper into your cunt, until he was buried halfway to the hilt.

“I want that, Bucky,” you whispered against his scruffy cheek, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on him until you could see his face. “I want you to fuck me dumb, make me your pretty little fuck toy—want you to fuck me whenever and wherever you want. Wanna be your perfect fuck pet.”

“Fuuuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby,” Bucky groaned, pushing the rest of his cock into your pussy as slowly as he could bear, the self-restraint evident in every tense muscle of his body. “You’re such a perfect, pretty fuck pet—fuck, you feel good.”

The words were stolen straight from your lips, because it was Bucky who felt good. It was Bucky who felt so hot and hard and perfect inside you, filling you up enough to feel the stretch without hurting you.

Unable to stop yourself, you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him tight inside you while you buried your face in his neck and moaned. He grunted, feeling your pussy gripping and squeezing and sucking on his cock. Every slight movement sent pulses of pleasure through your body.

“You feel so good inside me, Buck,” you murmured, tilting your face until it was pressed into his scruffy jaw. “God, your cock is just—so good.”

At your words, you could feel the slight tremors wracking Bucky’s body as he held himself still, fighting against his instincts to give you the chance to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up. But that’s not what you wanted. You wanted more, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Need more now,” you whimpered, rocking your hips and urging him to move, but he remained still above you.

“Gimme a minute,” he huffed, kissing you to distract you.

Despite his best efforts, your hips kept rolling lazily beneath his heavy body, so he lowered his weight until you were pinned beneath him and all you could do was whine into his mouth. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“If ya keep doing that, ‘m gonna empty my balls in your cunt sooner than I planned, pet,” he warned, though there was an edge of a smile in his warm, teasing tone.

A giggle erupted from your lips even as your inner walls clenched tight around Bucky’s cock, your body liking his words more than you probably should’ve. But seeing Bucky struggle to keep his composure while he was buried inside you made you want to be a menace to your best friend.

“You gonna turn me into your cumdump, Buck?” you teased, dragging the blunt edges of your teeth down his neck, feeling his cock twitch inside your tight channel. “You gonna fill me up until I’m leaking your come all down my thighs—you gonna fuck it back into me, huh?”

Bucky’s head dropped to your shoulder with a pained groan and he pulled his hips back, pushing against the tight hold your legs had on him before snapping forward. He started fucking you in short, punishing thrusts that had you moaning mindlessly as his cock pounded into you.

“Christ, your dirty mouth is even worse than mine, pet,” he growled, but there was an edge of exhilarated laughter in his tone that made it clear he wasn’t mad about it. Instead, he lifted his head and flashed you an impish grin, before ducking down to your chest.

When Bucky’s lips wrapped around your nipple and he sucked hard on your tightened peak, you cried out. Your back bowed off the couch, shoving your tits into your best friend’s face while your fingers clutched his head to your chest.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you gasped, the words devolving into an obscene moan. You squirmed beneath his bigger body while he chuckled at the helpless sounds you made.

Bucky was everywhere, his mouth sucking greedily on your tits, hands groping the soft curves of your hips, his cock spearing into your cunt over and over again in hard, brutal thrusts. It was too much, and yet not enough.

Your legs tightened around Bucky, ankles hooking around the backs of his thighs to try to hold him inside you as you met his every thrust. Pleasure was winding tighter in your lower belly, and you were desperately chasing your release, your fingers tugging uselessly on your best friend’s hair as you whined.

“Please, Bucky, please, please, please,” you chanted, until he finally rose up and met your lips in a furious kiss. “I need more, I need—” Your words cut off on a gasp when Bucky drove his cock into you so hard and so deep, you felt the tip brush against the very end of you.

“I know exactly what you need, pet,” he growled, that possessiveness back in his tone that sent your heart careening in your chest. “You just be a good little slut and take your boyfriend’s cock like a perfect fuck pet.”

He picked up his pace, fucking you into the soft cushions of the couch like a man possessed. His hard body loomed over you, his muscles shifting gloriously beneath his skin everywhere you touched, and even as his chest heaved, he kissed you. His mouth devoured yours, greedily drinking down every sound of your pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you were on the edge of your release, your cries growing higher pitched and more desperate as your body fluttered around his pounding cock. Bucky murmured encouragement into your lips, his hips grinding against your soft cunt, the base of his cock rubbing your clit until you were lost to the pleasure.

You came with a shrill scream, every muscle in your body clenching so tight that you dragged Bucky over the edge right after you. Your best friend buried his face in your chest, sucking idly on your soft tits and grunting his pleasure.

His hips kept thrusting wildly, spilling rope after rope of his seed deep in your pussy as your body clenched around him. You moaned unabashedly, basking in wave after wave of pleasure as they washed over you.

For long, endless moments, your bodies writhed together, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from each other as your mouths kissed messily.

Finally, when you were both spent, Bucky collapsed on top of you, crushing you with his weight for one blissful moment before he rolled to the side. His hands were gentle on your body as he rearranged you so that one of your legs was thrown over his hip, keeping his softening cock buried in your pussy.

“Kiss me softly, baby,” Bucky murmured against your lips, echoing your earlier words with a smile curving his mouth. There was a teasing edge to his tone, but you didn’t get the sense he was making fun of you, just being playful with you the way he always was.

It made your heart clench to think that nothing truly had to change between you and Bucky even after you’d given in to the mutual desire you felt.

He was still your best friend, and now the two of you could become something more—together. You hadn’t missed the way he’d called himself your boyfriend in the heat of the moment, but that was a conversation for later.

So you huffed a little laugh at his teasing and kissed Bucky. You kissed him as softly as you could manage while you both caught your breath.

It was different, more decadent, both of you taking your time to learn the other. It was like you both knew you had plenty of time—the rest of your lives—to discover everything there was to know about each other. Everything you didn’t already know.

For the rest of your movie night, you and your best friend, Bucky Barnes, took turns kissing each other softly, and fucking each other hard. Eventually, you fell asleep together, entwined on the couch, both wearing smiles on your kiss-swollen lips.

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wosospacegirl · 4 months ago

Text

La reina - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia fell for someone she never expected—Y/n, a younger college student who couldn’t care less about football. They have nothing in common, yet somehow, they just work. Here’s a little glimpse into their relationship.

Warnings: smut (+18); we have smut, we have fluff, we have angts, we have comfort we have Alexia eating Y/n out while making as 11 with her tongue...I'm sure you guys will feel fed <3

Word count: 7k

MASTERLIST

Notes: this was a request! So sorry it took me about a month to write it.

Y/n was practically bouncing on her feet when she saw Alexia at the airport. Well, it wasn’t exactly an airport since the Spain squad all travelled privately on their way back home.

The space was mostly empty, with only the player’s families present. There were no crowds asking for photos or cameras flashing since they weren’t allowed in.

But it didn’t matter. All Y/n cared about was Alexia. It had been three weeks since she left for camp in another country.

The matches the Spanish played were all friendly to prepare for real and important games–at least that’s what Alexia had explained to her, Y/n didn’t know much about football except that Alexia looked very pretty while playing it.

It was weird being at the airport knowing that in another two weeks, Y/n would have to come here, but to drop Alexia off as she had another game, this time in Portugal.

Alexia and Y/n didn’t spend a lot of time together. If they had gone on a date at least 3 times in the last 3 months Y/n would be lying. So she tried to be her best self around Alexia, tried to enjoy her and made sure Alexia was getting the rest she needed

T/n looked at the gate and saw that the first players to walk through the private airport doors were Pina and Patri, both girls quickly stopped to greet Y/n and do some small conversation, and then Aitana joined them, her well-travelled pillow hanging on her arm.

Y/n could not really focus on the conversation; she kept turning back to see if Alexia was there already.

“The staff on the plane asked her to take some pictures,” Aitana said, noticing how Y/n’s eyes kept bouncing from the group to the gate. “She’ll probably be the last to get out of the plane.

“She’s always the last, though,” Y/n said in a half-whined.

“Perks of being La Reina’s girlfriend,” Aitana said winking, before saying goodbye, taking Pina and Patri with her.

Y/n’s impatience grew as the minutes dragged on. Three and a half bitten nails later, Alexia showed up.

Her face was soft with exhaustion, her Barcelona hoodie slightly oversized, making her look unfairly huggable.

Her blonde hair was messy from sleep, falling over her shoulder as she had just spent the whole flight dreaming–which probably happened because Alexia was rather sleepy, even if she denied it assiduously.

I took her some time, but Alexia inevitably saw Y/n in the middle of the private airport lobby and instantly smiled, opening her arms, and letting Y/n come to her.

Their hug was long.

Alexia allowed Y/n to properly crush her torso all she wanted with her arms, but it didn’t bother Alexia; she had a load of muscle underneath her hoodie, and Y/n’s hug didn’t even tickle her.

“Hi,” Alexia said in Y/n’s ear, putting her hand on the girl’s head and pressing her even more against her body.

Y/n mumbled something incoherent and just pressed her face more into the Barça hoodie, listening to Alexia’s heartbeat.

Alexia’s hand let go of her suitcase, planting her palm underneath Y/n’s shirt, on her warm back.

Being apart for too long was hard on both of them, but especially on Y/n. She was a very affectionate, physical-touch-as-a-love-language kind of girl.

Naturally, she didn’t spend days sobbing in bed whenever Alexia was away–certainly, if she did that, she would die of dehydration–instead, she kept on with her life. The pressure in her chest never fully went away, especially during Alexia’s away games. It settled there, quietly constant, a reminder of how much she missed her.

The one way she found to cope with it was to bury herself in university work and focus on her classes and hobbies, like learning French and knitting. Alexia joked that every time she came back from a trip Y/n had learned something completely new from scratch.

“Missed you, mi vida,” Alexia said, breathing Y/n’ vanilla perfume on, one that she had got very used to, and missed whenever she was away. “Three weeks is way too long; I won’t ever do it again.”

Alexia bent her head a little just so Y/n could kiss her. First, she kissed her lips, then her cheeks, nose and forehead. Alexia was a very private person, and their relationship was still a secret to the public, but right now she could only care about Y/n and the way her kisses tickled her.

“I’ll hide you from Fifa for the rest of the year,” Y/n mumbled, bringing Alexia even closer to her. “They’ll never find you again and we’ll just stay together and live off of pizza.”

“I agree on the whole kidnap me from FIFA,” Alexia said, kissing Y/n’s head. “But I’ll have to pass the pizza thing, that wouldn't be very healthy, would it?”

“Look at you and your healthy diet,” Y/n rolled her eyes and jokingly pushed Alexia away “I forgot how much of a freak you are with food…I may or may not have like– a bunch of very unhealthy snakes lying around in your kitchens,”

“They made me so happy while you were away,” Y/n said, giving Alexia her best puppy eyes. “Please ignore them, and don’t–”

“I’ll throw them away,” Alexia started with a malicious smile.

“Oh come on!” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. “They are my favourite flavour.”

The player took her suitcase with one hand and wrapped Y/n’s shoulder with the other, leading them out of the airport.

“Come on, cariño you need to have some healthy habits,” Alexia said casually if it was that simple to give up on chips.

“Where did you park the car?”

“You don’t understand that having a snack is essential for my mental health,” Y/n said, pointing at the black Cupra car parked a few meters away.

Alexia chuckled, opening her palm for Y/n to give her the keys. “You can keep half of your snacks and we’ll give the rest to the ninãs on the team.”

Y/n looked for the keys in her pocket and gave them to Alexia.

They had already fought multiple times over Alexia–possessive and annoying driving behaviour.

Alexia always had to be the one driving, it didn’t matter when or where; the keys were always hers. The only time Y/n had a chance to drive Alexia’s cars was when she wasn’t in Barcelona, that was the only circumstance she would allow her to touch the keys.

“It’s not fair that Vicky gets to eat chips without an earful and I don't” Y/n grumbled, getting into the passenger seat after Alexia opened the door for her.

Ever the gentlewoman.

Alexia went around the vehicle, got behind the wheel, and started the car. “Vicky is a professional athlete who actually cares about what she eats, you, otherwise, would eat only pasta for a straight week If I didn’t ask you to change up a bit.”

“Vicky might be a professional athlete, but I’m a university student.” Y/n put her hands to her chest dramatically. “Do you know how impossible it is to survive studying without snacks? I’m out here shaping tiny minds, Ale—I need fuel! It’s not easy to be an early childhood education major.”

“Sorry, amor.” Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, placing a hand on Y/n’s tight. “You can keep all your snacks, okay? Don’t want you losing your mind over…midterms? That’s what you call them?”

Y/n smiled triumphantly. She had to keep on her snacks, HA!

“Yep, but my midterms are over, remember?” Y/n said looking at Alexia. “I had my last test three days ago, I texted you about it.”

“Merda,” [shit] Alexia said looking from the road to Y/n. “Sorry, mi vida, I forgot about it. How did you go?”

It didn’t bother Y/n anymore. Alexia was very forgetful about personal things, even though they were important to her.

Her head was too much on football, on the team and the girls. Alexia took her duties as capitana very seriously, her job didn’t stop after she got off training or the pitch. But Y/n was learning, little by little, how to manage that, Alexia too.

Alexia and Y/n hadn’t been dating for a long time, they were together for a little over 8 months.

Their relationship had ups and downs, just like any other. Their main source of conflict was because of how different their words were.

They had an age gap, not too big, but enough to cause some generational conflicts; Alexia was like the best footballer in the world, while Y/n was ‘just’

a university student; and last but not least: their relationship was a secret.

Alexia didn't like to call it secret, she preferred ‘private’ but Y/n liked to call it what it was: hidden.

Y/n didn’t like it. She wanted to just be in a normal relationship. She didn’t want to go full 3rd base with Alexia in the middle of the street, but she did want to post a picture of her for Valentine’s Day or go out without pretending to be friends…

But again, they were always working around it.

“The grade isn’t out yet, but I think I did good!” Y/n said proudly. “It was for a philosophy test, so I had to write a lot, but overall it was okay.”

“La meva nena intelligent,” [my smart girl], Alexia, said, also sounding proud. “I’ll buy you something if you get an A.”

“You always say that and you buy what I want regardless of my grades,” Y/n giggled. “And my university grades are between 1 and 10, we don’t use the letter systems.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you always work hard,” Alexia shrugged. “It doesn't matter your grade, I always know you do great.”

“Tell that to my children's psychology professor” Y/n said, rolling her eyes. “That woman is making my life a living hell.”

“Okay, do you have her phone or–” Alexia said deadpan.

“What?”

“To talk to your professor, she should be kinder to her students.” Alexia acted like ringing up a university professor because your girlfriend wanted to was a normal–casual– thing to do. “Professors are like captains on the team, the captain needs to be firm but also friendly and open to conversation, right?” She asked, looking at Y/n as they stopped at a red light.

“You really know how to ball while I know Aristotle, huh?” Y/n said smiling.

“Huh?” Alexia asked with furrowed eyebrows. “What do you mean? And yeah, I know how to ball, I won the Ballon d'Or, bebè, twice.”

For someone who didn’t know Alexia, they would think she was bragging, but she was simply stating a fact that she thought Y/n wasn't familiar with.

Y/n had missed this, having Alexia around, and talking to her… she just missed her girlfriend a lot, and unfortunately, in the last few months they had spent more time away than with each other, so she had to make the most of it.

“I know, Ale! I meant it like–” Y/n saw the confusion on Alexia’s face and decided to pick her battles. “Actually, just forget about it.”

“Why?” Alexia asked.

“Cause the green light is just on and we need to get home very fast,” Y/n said urgently, pointing at the traffic light.

Alexia looked at her anxiously while beginning to drive. “Why do we need to get home fast, are you car sick again?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. Alexia was killing the mode.

“No, Alexia!” Y/n said, a slight blush on her face “I just spent three weeks without my super hot girlfriend and I feel like I’m in the trenches, okay?”

Alexia understood what the girl meant right away, a grin growing on her face as she stepped up the speed.

“Don’t worry, cariño, I’ll take good care of you when we get home,” Alexia said as she pressed her foot harder on the accelerator pedal.

“Ale, I think you just went through a red light,” Y/n said, turning her neck to see the clearly red traffic light.

“It’s alright,” Alexia waved off. “I’ll just pay the car ticket later.”

Y/n’s underwear felt a well-known feeling in between her legs, she pressed her tight together, trying to find some friction.

Alexia barely parked the car when they arrived at Alexia’s house minutes later. A trio that was usually 20 minutes turned into 10. It was safe to say that Alexia went over and beyond the limit speed.

Alexia didn’t even wait for Y/n to step a foot into the house, her hands were already all over her, pressing, grabbing, touching every centimetre of skin she could find.

The blonde turned Y/n around and pressed her body against the closed door, her hand impatiently undid the button of Y/n’s jeans, her warm hand meeting Y/n’s wet underwear.

“Already this wet, cariño?” Alexia purred on Y/n’s ear, while her hand cupped Y/n’s tits under her shirt.

“Uhum,” Y/n moaned, moving her hips against Alexia’s hands. “I missed you.”

“I know you did, she did too,” she said. That's how Alexia would–sometimes–call Y/n’s pussy. “She’s so ready for me, I could just ease a finger right in.”

Y/n whimpered, feeling Alexia press her even more against the cold door as one of her fingers slowly made its way into her hole. She was drenched, having spent two whole weeks without Alexis was the same as not feeling pleasure at all.

Y/n did touch herself–Alexia allowed her– but it didn’t feel the same. Y/n craved more than just a touch, she needed closeness, she needed words and reassurance during sex.

She needed Alexia, and now she had her.

“Vols un dit més, cariño?” [Do you want a finger, cariño?] Alexia asked, not waiting for Y/n to respond before adding one more in her pussy. “I think you do, you’ve been so good while I was away, took care of yourself, and did well at uni, you deserve it, mi vida.”

Y/n could cum just with Alexia’s words, she knew how much Y/n was a whore for compliments and she used it as her weapon during sex.

“Ale,” Y/n whimpered, pressing her tits on Alexia’s hands. “Thank you, fuck–”

Alexia smirked, noticing the effect she had on her girl.

“That's what we’re going to do,” Alexia said, nipping Y/n’s earlobe. “You’re going to ride my finger right now, and then I’m taking you to bed and you’re riding my face, how does that sound?”

Y/n nodded frenetically. To be honest, she didn’t understand a word Alexia said, all she heard was ‘cum’ and ‘ride’, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Alexia took her hand off Y/n’s chest, which earned her a whine from Y/n. “Be patient, I’ll give your tits more attention later.”

The player wrapped her hand around Y/n’s waist, steading Y/n as she began buckling her hip, making Alexia’s finger reach even deeper than before.

“Oh–uh,” Y/n moaned, mouth hand open as Alexia sucked a spot on the back of her neck. “Almost there, Ale…I–”

“You can cum whenever you want, sweetheart,” Alexia said, kissing the new purple spot she made on the girl's skin. “Go on, be good and cum on my fingers.”

Y/n was a very good girl, so she did just that.

She felt her body go still as shockwaves ran through her body, Alexia’s name coming out of her mouth as if it were a prayer.

When Y/n’s muscles went soft, Alexia held her tighter, but she didn’t let the girl recover, her fingers were moving against her wet walls again.

“Ale, amor–” Y/n whimpered, pressing her forehead against the door as the pleasure took over her body once again. “Please, hmm.”

It was like Alexias was all over her body; as if her cells had entered Y/n’s skin. She could only feel Alexia, and hear Alexia, all her senses belonged to the player.

“Give me one more,” Alexia murmured in her ear. “I know you want to, cariño.”

Alexia added a third finger and moved faster, her thumb meeting Y/n’s clit as she gently played with it.

It was enough for Y/n to cum again. Her breathing failed and for a second no air came into her lungs, but it didn’t matter because a wave of bliss consumed her body once again.

“Just like that,” Alexia purred, slowing the pace of her fingers, helping the girl come down from her orgasm. “I missed seeing you cum.”

Alexia turned her around and kissed her face, murmuring praises as Y/n tried to come back from her high.

“Now let’s go to my room,” Alexia said, wrapping her arm around the girl’s waist again. “Wanna taste you on my tongue.”

They were off to a wild and long night.

The next day Y/n woke up with Alexia’s mouth on her.

Alexia had taken her pyjama shorts off, and her mouth was on Y/n’s pussy, lapping at her wetness as her hands possessively grabbed her tights.

It took a few seconds for Y/n to understand what was happening, but when she realised, she welcomed it with a grin.

Alexia always ate her out when she could, it was almost part of her routine. But of course, she couldn't do that while she was away, so it was nice to have this part of her day back.

Alexia was extremely skilled with her fingers, her mouth, with her strap…It was like she was very aware of every movement she made all the time. She knew exactly what to grab, what to lick and what to pinch to make Y/n moan and melt.

“Baby,” Y/n whined, moving her hips, trying to make Alexias go faster. “More?”

“Don’t move, cariño.” Alexia firmed her grip on Y/n’s tight. “Let me do the work, just lay there for me.”

It was almost impossible to just lay there, especially after Alexias fucked her with her finger against it. The two middle ones were deep into her pussy, Y/n’s walls welcoming them as part of her own body.

“Ale, hmm, please–” Y/n whimpered, holding her hand to her side because she knew Alexia didn’t like when she pulled her hair while she was eating her out.

It was something about being in control, Alexia told her once.

“Baby, so go–” Y/n was interrupted when Alexia took the shirt she was wearing and stuffed the hem into her mouth, the fabric quickly becoming wet.

Y/n stared at Alexia with wide eyes.

“Shh, just enjoy it, bebè,” Alexia said, sucking at Y/n’s clit while making eye contact, her left hand marking Y/n’s hip bone with her finger.

Y/n closed her eyes and did what Alexia told her: she enjoyed it.

Y/n was grabbed tightly at the bedsheets as she felt Alexia's tongue moving faster, and then she noticed it.

Alexia was making the number 11 with her tongue, moving it up and down slowly before moving it to the side. She did it again, and again.

And that’s when Y/n felt that well-known feeling. An orgasm erupted from her body as she bit into her shirt, her body, her body shook and she came to Alexia’s mouth.

Then it all went black.

“You’ll hurt your jaw, cariño,” Y/n heard Alexia say as if she was far away. She quickly opened her eyes and was met with Alexia’s hazel eyes.

“Hi,” Alexia said, smiling. “Let go of it, baby,” Alexia tugged at the material in Y/n’s mouth.

Y/n looked at Alexia with furrowed brown, and then she looked down. She had forgotten Alexia had stuffed her shirt in. She dizzily opened her mouth and Alexia took the hem of the shirt from her.

Y/n was confused. She remembered having an orgasm and then… blank. When she was overstimulated she would sometimes black out and wake up minutes later.

“Lift your arms for me, let me take the shirt off,” Alexia asked while caressing Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n shook her head, still looking at Alexia, feeling safe in her presence. She was confused, but Alexia would make it better. She always did.

Alexia tilted her head. “Why not?”

“Cold,” Y/n said, leaning into Alexia’s palm.

“I’ll give you my shirt,” Alexia promised. “And you’ll be warm.”

Y/n obediently lifted her arms and let Alexia strip her. She was fully naked when Alexia came back from her closet, a red shirt in her hand.

Alexia carefully put it on Y/n and went to the bathroom, coming back with a few wipes in hand. She spread Y/n’s thighs open and cleaned her, reassuring her whenever Yn whined, telling her she was too sensitive.

At the end, Alexia tucked Y/n in and kissed her forehead.

“Are you feeling sleepy, cariño?”

Yn nodded, a pout on her face as she turned her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. Alexia had tired her out and the clock said it wasn’t even 6 am.

“Take a nap,” Alexia said as she got on the bed with Y/n, gently guiding Y/n’s head to her chest. “ I’ll stay here with you.”

Y/n fell asleep seconds later.

A few hours later, Alexia woke Y/n up with breakfast on the bed–or at least what Alexia considered breakfast– she chopped a bunch of fruits in a bowl and put them on a breakfast tray.

“Where’s the rest?” Y/n asked, still sleepy, rubbing her eyes.

Alexia sat next to Y/n and looked at her confused. “What do you mean the rest?”

“Hmm, the rest of the food?” Y/n said, pointing at the tray in front of her. “Do you want me to start the day off with two bananas and a mango? Where is the chocolate chip pancake?”

“You should always start your day with fibre, cariño.” Alexia crossed her arms. “We can go out for brunch and get whatever you want if you eat your fruit salad.”

“Whatever I want?” Y/n asked, a teasing smile on her face.

“Sí.”

“I want you then.

Alexia clearly wasn’t waiting for that answer because she got flushed hard and fast. It was cute, seeing Alexia, normally calm and chill, getting squirmish under her gaze.

It didn’t last long though, she was quickly back to her normal, confident self.

“Eat your fruit and you’ll have it,” she whispered against Y/n’ smooth, before taking the girl into a deep kiss. “Now go on, I want us to go on a run before noon.”

The mention of run made Y/n’s horniness disappear from her body.

“A run? But you just got back from camp!” Y/n whined. “You can’t be serious, normal people rest after they’re done working.”

Y/n could see Alexia's rigorous and inflexible persona coming right in.

“Cariño, I have to keep my routine, you know that,” Alexia said, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “If I skip, I’ll regret it later.”

“Runs help prevent injuries, too, it makes my ligaments stronger.” She continued, kissing Y/n’s face to make her soften up. It worked.

Y/n didn’t have a chance to fight it and she knew.

Her shoulder gave up a little. “Fine! But can I go on the golf card while you run?”

“No,” Alexia said deadpan. “That wouldn't be running.”

“But you are the–oh so glorious– professional footballer, I’m just a future kindergarten teacher!” Y/n said. “Would you like it if I made you do class planning? I don’t think so.” Y/n crossed her arms.

If Alexia was insisting on her company on the run, she was doing it her way.

“Cariño! You never work out with me,” Alexia complained.

“That’s because I never work out, Alexia; it’s nothing personal,” Y/n said.

“You told me one of your New Year resolutions was starting to work out,” Alexia said, her turn to cross her arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n waved her off. “But that was a long few months ago.”

“We’re in February.”

“But it’s a leap year!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Alexia asked exasperatedly.

“The more you argue the later you start your run,” Y/n said, taking a piece of banana and putting it into her mouth.

Alexia gave up.

“Fine, just finish it, ok? I’ll take a shower,” Alexia said, turning around and going to their shared bathroom.

"I’ll join you in a moment!" Y/n yelled from the bed, but in her mind, she was already planning the fastest route to avoid a run and the fastest way to get in the shower with Alexia.

She couldn't lose the opportunity of seeing Alexia naked and wet.

Y/n had never eaten a fruit salad so fast in her life.

Y/n and Alexia compromised.

Y/n did run with her for 2km, but Alexia did the rest of her run having Y/n driving a golf cart by her side.

That way Y/n did what she loved the most: just sit and look pretty while having quality time with Alexia.

The couple talked a lot during the run, mainly about Y/n's classes and about the time Alexia spent on camp.

The good thing about having a partner who lived a completely different life than you? The gossip!

How else would Y/n know about which gold medalist was sleeping with who? And how else would Alexia know about the two professors in the philosophy department who were going through an ugly divorce because of cheating?

“And guess what?” Y/n said, easily turning the wheel to divert from a hole in the ground.

“What?” Alexia asked, a little out of breath because of her exercise.

Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Guess!”

“I don't know!” Alexia said. “Tell me, cariño, please?”

Please. Huff.

Alexia refused to say please when they were having sex, but quickly said the word when she wanted to hear the biggest gossip around the campus–that she didn't even attend!

Y/n lowered her speed to keep up with Alexia, who was going at a slower pace.

“The professor cheated on a student! It's a girl majoring in social services!” Y/n disclosed the gossip. “If you had asked me, I would say social services were the last one on my list of students sleeping with professors.”

Alexia laughed. “And what major would be first?”

“Engineering major,” Y/n stated expressionlessly. “Any type of engineering major. I've heard stories.”

“What stories?” Alexia asked.

“Oh you wouldn't like to know,” Y/n said as she got faster leaving Alexia behind.

“Cariño, stop it,” Alexia said. “You're going too fast.”

“But I need to get home and pee!” Y/n yelled back. “Just get in the car with me and we'll go.”

“No!”Alexia said. “I have to finish my running.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and got faster, ignoring Alexia’s lecture and leaving her behind and she drove back to Alexia’s house.

When Alexia got home 30 minutes later than Y/n, she opened the door and found the girl lying on the sofa, fresh out of the shower.

Alexia bent down from the back of the couch to give the Y/n a kiss but was met with a pillow on her face.

“Excuse me?” Alexia asked, offended.

“Shower first,” Y/n said, still holding the pillow up while holding a book with the other. “And then you can have your kiss.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“I want a kiss now,” Alexia demanded calmly.

Y/n simply pointed at the hallway to the bathroom.

Alexia groaned but headed to the bathroom.

“No groaning,” Y/n yelled from the sofa.

Alexia replied by slamming the bathroom door shut.

Grumpy.

After Alexia emerged from the bathroom, fresh from her shower with her hair still damp, she made her way to the living room. She found Y/n exactly where she had left her—lounging on the sofa—but the book she'd been reading was long forgotten.

Noticing the amused smile on Y/n’s face as she scrolled through her phone, Alexia leaned over the back of the couch without a word, curious about the source of her laughter.

Y/n, still grinning, explained that she was watching funny videos from a new social media app—one Alexia had never even heard of.

She did her best to break down what was happening in the video, but no matter how much she tried, Alexia just couldn’t wrap her head around it.

All Alexia knew was that Y/n wanted them to participate in whatever the couple on the video were doing.

“–And then we start running,” Y/n said with a proud smile, holding up her phone as a TikTok played on the screen. “Easy, right? I won’t post it, of course. It’s gonna be in my drafts.”

“I still don't understand, cariño,” Alexia said.

The player had changed her position, and her shoulder was resting on the sofa’s arm as she squinted her eyes at Y/n phone.

“What you don't understand this time?” Y/n asked, slightly imapantient.

Alexia didn't know anything about social media. Nothing. Nada. Y/n wasn't an influencer but she knew her way around technology and trends and was very active on her Instagram.

Alexia, on the other hand, was happy if she didn't forget her Instagram password. Which she did, several times. Y/n had to be the one to get a new password for her.

“What's the propòsit d’aixop?”[What’s the purpose of this?] Alexia asked.

“Alexia, my love,” Y/N said, cupping Alexia’s cheeks dramatically. “It’s just a TikTok trend. It’s supposed to be dumb. That’s literally the whole point.”

“Dumb, bebè?” [baby] Alexia said, taking Y/n’s wrists in her hands gently and holding them under her lap. “I'm not tonta, and neither are you, why post us being silly?” [silly]

Y/n tried to free her wrists, but Alexia held tighter.

“Because everybody does it!” Y/n answered in a whine.

It was always like that with Alexia.

They spent most of the time away from each other, having to text or do video chats, and when they were together they couldn’t even do normal couple things because Alexia was Barcelona’s princess.

She had the whole world watching her all the fucking time.

“Cariño, we’re not like everyone else,” Alexia said, running a hand through her hair. “I have contracts and sponsors and… I just don’t want to do anything that could cause problems, you know?”

Y/n tugged at her wrist harder, and this time Alexia let her go with a huff. Y/n's eyebrows were furrowed.

“It 's a tiktok trend, Alexia! I'm not going to film you using cocaine or kicking a puppy!” Y/n said, the tone of her voice getting louder. “Everybody does it! Everybody! It's supposed to be fun, something that couples do.”

Alexia Pinched the bridge of her nose.

“We are not everybody,” she repeated as if Y/n didn't listen the first time.

“No! You are not everybody,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. “And maybe I just wanted to feel like a normal girlfriend for once—ever think about that? I miss spending time with you!”

Y/n loved Alexia, she had said it to her three months ago, she loved her so much it hurt, but moments like this, when she felt like a secret, when she felt like Alexia’s career was the most important thing in in life, she sometimes wished Alexias was just another normal person.

Maybe that way Alexia would have time for her. Maybe if she wasn’t La Reina, Alexia would walk with her and hold her hand, maybe they wouldn't have to spend all their time together because Alexia was too busy to be with her.

Someday she wished Alexia wasn’t La Reina. Today was one of those days.

Alexia opened her mouth, but Y/n didn't let her argue.

“Nope, I’m talking—because you just got back from a three-week camp, and now you’re leaving again! For another week! In Portugal! Do you see the problem here, Ale?”

“I know, cariño,” Alexia sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just… My schedule is a mess. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Alexia knew it was coming, she just didn’t know it was going to be today. When she got back from long trips Y/n would always whine and complain about how much she was away, but she never screamed or yelled about it.

They had arguments over it, but it was always toned down, almost like very logical arguments. But this time Y/n seemed to have a lot of feeling boiling inside of her, waiting for the right moment to let them ou.t

Y/N stepped closer, pressing a hand flat against Alexia’s chest. “It means that I miss you, Alexia. Like, a lot.”

Y/n felt a tear on her cheek, but she quickly cleaned it, she wasn’t going to cry. She was angry and frustrated–with a very good reason–and

“I miss you! But even when you're around we can't do girlfriend stuff because of football, or because of the media, interviews, photoshoots–” Y/n counted down on her finger every little commitment Alexia had on her routine regularly.”

“–and I know you have your career, but–” Okay, maybe she was going to cry a little.

Alexia wrapped her arms around Y/n, bringing her close to her chest.

“–you have me too.” Y/n finished, finally letting the tears run free as she buried her face in Alexia's chest, letting herself be comforted.

Alexia sat back down on the couch, bringing Y/n with her; the younger girl was straddling her lap, her face resting on Alexia’s neck.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against Alexia’s shoulder. The weight of the moment settled between them, thick and unspoken.

Alexia didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, she tightened her hold, her fingers tracing slow patterns against Y/n’s back. “Hey,” she murmured after a while, voice soft but sure. “I’ve got you.”

“Calma, tot està bé." [it's okay.] Alexia continued in a soft tone. “Pots plorar, sóc aquí." [“I'm here, you can cry"]

Alexia patted Y/n’s back, chin on the younger girl's head. She rocked Y/n and let her cry for a few minutes, even though she hated the sounds of her girl’s sobs.

When Y/n seemed calmer, Alexia slightly pushed her body away so she could look at her.

Alexia cleaned some tears on her cheek and kissed the pout on Y/n's face.

“I’m sorry, mi vida," Alexia said softly, rubbing her thumb over Y/N’s cheek. "I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you.”

Y/n looked down, feeling embarrassed by her outburst. “No, I'm–I'm Sorry, I shouldn't freak out over a stupid TikTok.”

“No, don't say that,” Alexia said, kissing her forehead. “It's not stupid if you care about it, and both of us know it’s more than the TikTok thing,”

“It's just a TikTok trend” Y/n mumbled, feeling like a spoiled brat. “I'm not gonna lose a limb, it's alright, we don't have to do It.”

“We can do it, sí?” Alexia said. “But you have to explain it to me again.”

Y/n smiled at Alexia. “Ok, I'll explain again.”

“Great!” Alexia said, kissing in on the lips. “And after that, we can sit down and plan a trip just for us.”

Y/n sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “A trip?” she repeated, her voice still slightly shaky. “You don’t have any breaks until July, we can’t make any trips.”

“Not a long trip, no. But I was thinking… Maybe we can steal a weekend for ourselves. Just the two of us.” Alexia hummed, tucking a loose strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Soy la Reina, no? I’ll ask for a day off next Friday, so we’ll have the whole weekend for us.”

“You don't have to do that just because of me,” Y/n said. “Your career is important, I know it. I was just being… sort of a brat.”

“You weren’t being a brat, don’t say that,” Alexia cupped Y/n’s face. “I've been very busy, I know we haven’t spent a lot of quality time together; I’ll get better at it, okay?”

Y/n nodded, bringing her face to Alexia’s shoulder.

“I didn't mean it when I said I wanted us to be like everybody else,” Y/n whispered. “I'm sorry I said that.”

Y/n was embarrassed now. Y/n knew she was agreeing to all of this when she and Alexia started dating. She wasn't being fair to Alexia. The players had an opposite life compared to her, a very different one from most people, and Y/ should respect it.

Alexia sighed, rubbing Y/N’s back. “I know it sucks, cariño. I don’t mean to make you feel like an afterthought—it’s just… football takes over everything.”

“I’m sorry it took me some time to see it,” Alexia continued, putting her hand under Y/n’s shoulder and rubbing her back, feeling the slight movement of her breathing.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Tenerife,” Alexia said after a few minutes. “Alba went there last month and said it was very charming.”

“Tenerife is nice,” Y/N mumbled against Alexia’s skin. “It’s got beaches… a volcano… and probably a bunch of cute little cafés.”

“A volcano? That’s cool. Alba didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah, it’s a dormant one, but it's interesting, I guess.”

Alexia kissed Y/n’s forehead and rocker again, gently, wanting the girl to feel safe and comfortable.

“We’re going there next week, I’ll buy the plane tickets,” Alexia said. “You just worry about buying cute bikini sets and searching about dormant volcanoes.”

Alexia finally achieved what she wanted. Y/n let out a little giggle, but it soon faded.

“Ale, really, we don’t have to do it,” Y/n said, taking her head from Alexia's shoulder to meet her eyes. “I don't want to get between you and your calendar, I understand the International season is starting and all that.”

“Plus, if you really want to take some days off, you could use them to rest, you haven’t taken a break during the whole season.” Y/n continued.

“I’ll be on a beautiful island with a pretty and smart girl by my side,” Alexia said cheekily. “That’d be a proper holiday, of course I’m gonna rest.”

“Plus, it’ll be nice to just... be,” Alexia admitted, rubbing a hand over her neck. “No schedules, no press, no—” she huffed, shaking her head before offering a small, almost shy smile. “Just you and me. That sounds perfect.”

Y/n said nothing, she only buried her face in Alexia’s Barcelona hoodie.

“Are you feeling a little better now?” Alexia asked.

“Yes,” Y/n said. “But I’m sorry for crying and making you feel guilty,” Y/n said with a slight flush on her cheeks.

“No, no,” Alexia said, shaking her head. “You don’t apologize, I was in the wrong here.”

She took Y/n’s chin in her hand, looking her in the eyes.

“I’m not planning this trip out of guilt, alright?” The player promised. “It’s because I really miss doing fun stuff with you… You know, activities that don’t revolve around watching Love Island,” Alexia teased, poking Y/n’s side.

“Wait, what?!” Y/N blinked at her. “All this time and you were just pretending to care about Love Island?”.

Alexia scrunched her nose. “Yes, cariño, I just watch it because you like it.”

Y/n got out of Alexia’s lap, a betrayed expression on her face.

“Who are you?!”

“I don’t mind watching, I just think it’s boring.”

“Boring?!” Y/n said looking down in disbelief. “I can’t believe it, Ale! You always seemed so excited for the next episode.”

“Because I knew you were excited, bebè,” Alexia smiled at her sweetly.

“All this time… our whole relationship… built on lies?” Y/n clutched her chest. “Do you even love me, or was that a lie too?”

Alexia, laughing, pulls Y/n back into her lap. “Shh, cariño. No more questions.”

After a moment of exaggerated betrayal, Y/n huffed dramatically but let herself be pulled back into Alexia’s lap. She crossed her arms, still feigning offence.

“You're lucky you’re cute,” she muttered.

Alexia chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s temple. “I know.”

Alexia nuzzled into Y/n’s neck, placing a few lazy kisses there. “So, what’s next?”

Y/n hummed, pretending to think. “Well, since you’ve just shattered my trust, I’d say the only way to fix this relationship is…” She grabbed her phone, waving it slightly.

Alexia narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Y/n grinned, already pulling up the TikTok. “So basically we just say ‘suspect and–”

Alexia kept the same smile on her face and Y/n explained it to her. Did she feel tonta doing the Tik Tok? Yes. Did she do it anyway because Y/n asked. Absolutely.

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas smut

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captain-huggy-bear · 5 months ago

Text

Perfect Fit

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You fit perfectly into Quinn's family, knowing how much they love you just makes Quinn realise that you're it for him.

Notes: Requested by an anon, I hope you like it. I went with a kind of snapshot of events vibe for this one

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's never had a girlfriend who fit in quite so well into his family because you were quite literally a perfect fit. Every single member of his family loved you. His mom, his dad, his brothers, his grandma, all his cousins. There wasn't a single person who didn't ask where you were when you couldn't come to a family event or who didn't write you a Christmas card or a birthday card. You were in every family group chat, on everyone's list of Christmas presents to buy.

You'd integrated so well into his family that he couldn't really imagine a life without you because suddenly there'd be a missing puzzle piece in the family puzzle, a glaring gap. The sort of hole that would be so noticeable, so obvious.

It's extra obvious whenever he goes to a family event without you, like tonight. You're held up with a big work project, leaving Quinn to go to the big family get together on his own. He knew everyone would be upset about it, there was only so often that all the family were in the local area and you not being there would be obvious to them.

His grandma has already found herself a comfortable armchair when he arrives for the party, cousins, aunts and uncles milling about. His brothers talking to his parents by the snacks, Luke stuffing his face between sentences because he seemed to have hollow legs these days.

"Hey, Grandma'"

"Hey, sweetie," He kisses his grandma on the cheek letting her pull him in tight for a hug, but it's clear her attention isn't on him, her eyes looking over his shoulder, searching.

"You alright, Grandma?" He's a little put out to be honest. His grandma, who he hasn't seen in months, barely looking at him, eyes scanning the room.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Oh, she couldn't make it, she's got a big project goin' on at work and has to stay late for the next week or so." There's part of him that preens at her question because his grandma loves you, something he can't help but love. He loves it for himself, but he also loves it for you knowing you didn't have the best relationship with your own grandparents, knowing that his grandma had healed something in you that no one could see.

"Oh, but I wanted to see her so badly, Quinn! I was going to give her my recipe, the one she asked for to make those snickerdoodles she liked so much." She looks genuinely sad and Quinn briefly considers face timing you to show you because you'd probably cave and drop your work project for his grandma and then he'd have you here. God, he misses you...

"Well, I can give it to her, grandma."

"No! I want to give it to her, what if you lose it?" He can't help the offended scoff he lets out or the way his jaw drops open in shock. His grandma not trusting him more than you hurt a little, even as he loved that she adored you so much. He was perfectly capable of not losing a stupid snickerdoodle recipe...

His mood is no less grumpy when Jack and Luke sling their arms over his shoulders, laughing at him and the way his grandma is holding her recipe to her chest as if he might snatch it from her.

Jack is the worst, "Oh he'd definitely lose it, grams!"

Quinn glares at him, "I'll make sure she comes to the next one, grandma, yeah?" He tries his best to not take his annoyance with Jack out on his grandma, trying to focus on that fuzzy little feeling in his chest at how much she seems to love you. He's never had a girlfriend his grandma really cared much about beyond the occasional question, but you? God, she's not happy to just see him anymore, if he doesn't bring you along she's always visibly disappointed.

"Mmm, it'll have to do! Tell her I love her will you?"

"Course, grandma..." He grunts out, rolling his eyes as Jack and Luke laugh and start dragging him away. As he goes he can't help but mutter under his breath, "More than you love me clearly"

"Jack Rowden Hughes!" Your hands are on your hips glaring at Jack outside the Lake House, a smoking microwave between the two of you where Luke and Quinn had tossed it after hearing your panicked calls for help. The microwave in question had been briefly on fire, not something Quinn really thought he'd be dealing with today.

"Oh god, he's done it now..." Quinn can't help but grin, leaning against the side of the house as he watches you, Luke stood next to him looks more concerned and less amused.

"Should we save him?"

"Nah, I wanna watch this." Quinn's grin widens at the way Jack seems to shrink under your glare like a naughty kid. You've definitely got the mom voice down. It's like watching a younger Jack whenever their mom had to tell him off for something stupid or reckless.

"You just want to watch your girlfriend rip into him because you think it's hot."

"And can you blame me?" He can't even deny it. Quinn thinks you're beautiful all the time, but there's something especially thrilling about watching you rip into his little brother about nearly setting the Lake House on fire.

There's a pause from Luke where he looks at Quinn unsure, words coming out slow and cautious, unsure, "I feel like that's a trick question."

"You would be correct, don't even think about suggesting my girlfriend is hot." Quinn glares a Luke even though the truth is he's playing about. He knows you're beautiful and he also knows both his brothers consider you to be a sister figure, he knows he doesn't need to worry. But, it's funny to give Luke a hard time sometimes.

"So, should I say she's ugly?"

"She's gorgeous but you don't need to think that. Strictly platonic thoughts only, Lukey."

"Quinn?" He looks over with a raised eyebrow, "I love you, but you're insane." They're both pulled from their conversation by the sound your voice again, loud and clear and very much scolding.

You've still got your hands on your hips, a glare has developed on your features and Jack looks even more like his teenage self if possible. His hair is a mess, hands having run through it repeatedly, tugging on the strands.

"What on earth possessed you to think putting tin foil in a microwave was a good idea?! It's metal, Jack! You nearly blew up the microwave!" You feel like you're back at university, dealing with barely legal individuals who can't figure out that cooking a whole chicken in a microwave is simply not going to work. Jack Hughes has managed to give you a headache. His sheepish grin manages to soften some of your edges, but you're still baffled and confused by Jack's sheer lack of common sense.

"How was I supposed to know that that wasn't something you should do?!"

"It's common sense, Jack! Did you not pass science?" You know he did, well aware that Jack was not in fact an idiot. But, Jesus Christ on a bike...tin foil in the microwave? The microwave?! The smell of burning plastic and metal is still assaulting your nose, the adrenaline from thinking the house was about to burn down still running through you.

"...I hate you." Jack's pout breaks you a little, a huff of a laugh leaving you as your shoulders relax somewhat because in reality the whole situation is funny, now that the Lake House isn't about to burn down.

"No you don't."

Jack sighs loudly, stepping around the microwave to pull you into a side hug, "No...I don't...I'm sorry for nearly blowing up the microwave."

"It's okay, I love you even if you're an idiot." You grin up at your boyfriend's brother, who looks at you aghast, jaw dropped at your audacity.

"Hey!"

Quinn can't help but smile, the way you just fit in with his baby brothers, how Jack enjoys your company and how easy you find it to mess with him. You fit in like a puzzle piece.

Summers at the Lake House might be your favourite, the warm wood of the deck beneath your feet, the sun on your skin, a little chubby toddler running towards you at full pelt while you laugh, Quinn watching on from the side lines because he can't help but adore how you act with his baby cousins. You're made for it, made for his family, but made for interacting with little kids too, so gentle with them, but fun too. They love you so much that he can't help but practically develop heart eyes.

"Up! Up!" Quinn's baby cousin, Chase, is at your feet, arms in the air making grabby motions with his hands. His floppy sun hat is a little too large for him and covers his eyes in an adorable fashion, but at least it protects him a little from the summer sun at the Lake House.

"Up? You want to be up here?" You gesture with you arms as you grin down at the little toddler, his chubby cheeks red from running towards you, his skin covered in sun cream.

"Up!" His hands continue to make grabbing motions at you, hands clenching into fists and unclenching in quick succession. He grins at you wide, his gap filled smile endearing.

"What's the magic word?" You're smiling wide at his cousin, even as you remind him of his manners and there's just something so...so affable, so natural about the whole thing.

"Up, pwease!" His little toddler lisp more pronounced on the word, drawing it out until you're laughing, reaching down to grab him under the arms and lift him up into your own.

He squirms a little at first before settling himself comfortably against you, head leaning on your shoulder, smiling up at you like you've hung the moon in the sky. You hold Chase so naturally that Quinn can't really help but think about what it might be like one day when the toddler in your arms is your own. A little toddler with his nose, your eyes and some combination of you both that just seems to work. How you'd carry them around the Lake House, helping them toast marshmallows over the firepit and teaching them eventually how to swim.

"She's good with the kids..." It's his mom who comes up behind him, smiling wide, blue eyes practically glowing as she puts her arm through his.

"I know..." He can't take his eyes off you, you've started to tickle chase, the toddler squirming in your arms as he laughs loudly, big grin on his little face as his favourite person gives him undivided attention. You're practically glowing, wide smile on your face, your own laugh resonating through the air. His chest tightens with affection, an ache for something he hasn't got quite yet, a yearning in his chest.

"Makes you think, huh?" His mom is smirking at him and he knows he's being obvious, knows she can tell how in love he is, how desperate he is to make you a permanent fixture in his life...to make the image in front of him slightly different, a toddler that looks like a combination of the two of you in your arms rather than his baby cousin.

There's a beat of silence where Quinn watches you, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of love, and his mom watches him, the way he can't seem to hide how deeply he loves you. It's how she knows you're it for him before he even says a word, it helps that Ellen can't help but love you. She's always been welcoming to Quinn's past girlfriends, but she's never quite loved one as much as she loves you. You're good for Quinn, that's the real crux of why she loves you so much...because you give Quinn something to love that's not hockey, you give him another purpose while getting him to shut off, to rest. Of all her sons Quinn is the most dedicated, and with that dedication comes the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's like you walked in one day, and stepped underneath the globe with him to make holding the weight a little easier.

"I think she's it, Mom...I think that's my wife right there..."

"Yeah? I'd hope so because I'll ground you for life if you let her go."

"I'm 25 years old, Mom." He can't help but laugh at his mother, eyes rolling as she grins at him, laugh lines deepening around her mouth and besides her eyes. He's missed this during the season, the unrestricted family time, the back and forth with his mom that makes everything feel simple, even the concept of a proposal, of marriage.

"I can still ground you, I'm your mother." Ellen pokes him in the ribs, Quinn twisting away with a huff.

"Well, good thing I'm not planning on letting her go anywhere anytime soon." He pats his jacket pocket, the shape of a box just visible enough to cause his mom to gasp and he knows, fuck, he knows it's the right choice.

He loves you, adores you, can't imagine a life without you and his mom? She's so excited, so happy, not just because it's Quinn, but because it's you. He'd love you even if his family didn't, but there's something about how much they do love you that makes this perfect, makes this feel so utterly right.

Now he just needs to find the right moment, the right time to finally make you a permanent part of the family.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

976 notes · View notes

bu3ck3r · 2 months ago

Text

back in your arms

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: p surprising a in storrs

a/n: thank u anon for this request i had fun writing it. also lmk if there’s any mistakes. enjoyyy

azzi stood near the free-throw line, drenched in sweat, hair tied up in a messy bun, trying to focus. afternoon light poured through the high windows, catching on the glow of her skin. she launched another shot—net. another—miss. another—net. she didn’t even care about her percentage anymore. she just needed to distract herself.

her phone had been sitting on the floor for the past three hours, still no response from paige.

one day. that’s all it had been. twenty-four hours since paige last texted her, but azzi felt like she was unraveling.

paige never went a whole day without replying. not even during her busiest days in the wnba. they always found time, even if it was at 1 a.m. “i love you” voice notes or a 30-second facetime just to say goodnight.

so where the hell was she?

azzi gasped and grabbed her water bottle, chugging half of it before checking her phone again. still nothing. her heart was punching at her ribs with that all too familiar fear. was she okay? was something wrong?

she shot another three-pointer. missed.

“damn it,” she muttered.

she didn’t hear the door open.

meanwhile, near the campus, a car pulled into the parking lot behind the gym. paige leaned forward in the passenger seat, pulling her hood lower over her forehead.

“you are so dramatic,” said caroline from the driver’s seat, trying not to laugh.

“i told you i wanted this to be a surprise. she probably thinks i ghosted her,” paige said, her mouth twisting with guilt.

“i swear if you get mobbed before you even make it into the gym, i’m leaving your ass here.”

“you’re a terrible friend.”

“i’m the best friend. now go before she actually breaks up with you.”

paige grinned and hopped out, sneaking through the entrance like she used to.

her stomach was fluttering. she hadn’t seen azzi in three weeks.

and now, paige was here.

she opened the gym door quietly, slipping in through the shadows. her heart instantly bounced.

there she was.

azzi.

mid free-throw, breathing hard, focus written across her face. she looked tired. she looked pissed. she looked beautiful.

paige stood there for a moment and watched. she could’ve watched forever.

then azzi turned—and froze.

the ball slipped from her fingers. it bounced away, rolling toward the sideline. her eyes went wide.

“paige?” she whispered.

and then she ran and launched herself at paige so fast she barely had time to open her arms. their bodies collided, hard, azzi wrapping her legs around paige’s waist, arms around her neck. her face buried in paige’s shoulder, paige stumbled back with a laugh, holding her tight.

“damn,” paige breathed. “you missed me that much?”

azzi didn’t respond at first—just kissed her, hard. it wasn’t gentle or slow. it was all lips and heat and the bite of longing. her hands curled into paige’s hair, pulling her in closer. paige’s fingers dug into azzi’s waist, grounding them both. when they finally broke apart, azzi glared at her.

“you didn’t respond to me for a whole day,” she said, accusing.

“i know,” paige said, nuzzling her nose into azzi’s cheek. “because i was flying to you.”

“you suck.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

paige grinned. “caroline picked me up. she thinks you’re gonna kill me.”

“i might.”

“you were one more missed text away from a breakdown, huh?”

azzi lightly smacked her chest. “shut up.”

paige kissed her again. “i missed you too, baby.”

they didn’t even notice that someone had walked in until ice’s voice rang through the gym.

“okay, what is going on here?”

azzi whipped her head around, still clinging to paige, as ice and kk walked in.

paige barely managed to catch azzi’s legs and set her down.

kk stared for a beat. “wait is that p boogers?”

“surprise,” paige said with a smirk, arms still around azzi’s waist.

ice nearly dropped her water bottle. “what?!”

they both ran over, crowding paige with hugs and disbelief.

“you didn’t tell anyone?!” ice said.

“caroline knew,” paige replied.

azzi grumbled, tugging paige back to her. “okay, okay. y’all got your hugs. she’s mine. back off.”

“god, you two are so gay,” ice said, sipping her drink. “can y’all not touch each other for one second, like damn.”

“nope,” paige and azzi said in unison.

kk snorted. “insufferable.”

but they were all smiling.

later, as they walked back to the dorms together, paige held azzi’s hand tightly. the sun was dipping low, casting gold across the trees. azzi hadn’t let go of her since the gym. she kept brushing their arms together like she couldn’t believe paige was real.

paige leaned in and whispered, “so… how mad were you?”

azzi narrowed her eyes. “i was this close to calling your teammates.”

paige laughed. “would’ve been worth it.”

“only because i didn’t actually.”

“mmm i like when you’re clingy.”

azzi rolled her eyes. “oh please, you’re the one who flew here.”

paige stopped her and pulled her close.

“yeah. because i couldn’t go another day without you.”

she kissed her again, soft and lingering, right there in the path. azzi melted into her, arms around her neck. they stood there for a long moment, caught in a world only they understood.

azzi whispered against her lips, “don’t disappear on me again.”

“i won’t,” paige said. “i promise.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the dorm was unusually quiet, but as paige and azzi stepped through the doors—still holding hands—there was an immediate shift in the air.

from around the corner, jana appeared, holding a bowl of cereal.

she blinked once. “wait, is that?”

before she could finish, ice and kk came walking down the hallway, still buzzing from the surprise.

“paige bueckers is in the buildingg,” ice announced to literally no one and everyone.

a door slammed. sarah’s voice floated down, “what?”

paige squeezed azzi’s hand tighter.

“oh my god,” jana muttered, mouth full of cereal.

azzi immediately stepped closer to paige, hand drifting from paige’s fingers to her waist, like claiming territory. “okay, okay,” she said coolly. “calm down.”

“i cant believe you’re here.” kk shouted.

“surprise,” paige said again, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“i literally cried last time you left.” jana threw her arms around paige dramatically. “welcome home, p.”

paige hugged her back, laughing. “missed you too.”

“alright,” azzi said, gently pulling paige back into her arms. “y’all got your moment. she’s with me now.”

“relax,” ice said. “no one’s gonna steal your girl.”

azzi didn’t let go.

kk raised an eyebrow. “damn, girl, we just want to say hi. you’re gripping her like she’s gonna vanish.”

paige turned to azzi, teasing: “i kinda like this new possessive you.”

“you’re never leaving again,” azzi mumbled, face tucked into her shoulder.

the girls all let out exaggerated groans.

“you two make me feel so single.” ice muttered, grabbing her cereal from jana.

“y’all are just mad we’re in love,” paige called after them.

“more like allergic to pda,” kk said. “bro can y’all not touch each other for a minute?”

paige grinned. “absolutely not.”

azzi looked at her with a smile.

they finally made it to azzi’s room—after paige was forced into one more group hug—and shut the door behind them.

the second it clicked closed, paige turned around and leaned against it.

“god, i missed this room,” she said. “smells like you.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “you missed me.”

“well obviously,” paige said, reaching for her.

azzi practically tackled her onto the bed.

they landed in a mess of limbs and soft sheets. azzi hovered over her, arms braced on either side of paige’s shoulders. she looked down at her for a long moment, her expression softening. paige reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from azzi’s cheek.

“you really scared me today,” azzi said quietly.

“i know,” paige whispered. “i’m sorry.”

azzi leaned down, forehead to forehead. “i thought something was wrong.”

“i just… i wanted to see your face when i showed up. i needed that reaction.”

“you needed me to almost lose my mind?”

paige grinned. “i was right though, huh?”

azzi sighed and kissed her. “shut up.”

their lips met again—slower now, deeper. the tension of the day began to melt into something warmer, needier. azzi’s body pressed flush against paige’s, hands roaming beneath the hem of her hoodie.

paige slid her hands beneath azzi’s tank top, thumbs tracing the soft skin of her waist. “been dreaming about this for days.”

azzi’s lips were hot against her neck now, teeth grazing lightly. “same.”

clothes started disappearing in quiet layers—hoodie tossed, shorts slipped off, tank tops lost between kisses. the room filled with the quiet hum of breathing, the creak of the mattress, the sound of two people desperate to feel every inch of each other after weeks apart.

paige took her time, lips and fingertips memorizing the curves she already knew by heart. azzi whispered her name like it was sacred.

after they finished, they stayed tangled together under the sheets, sweat cooling, hearts still thudding.

paige brushed azzi’s hair back and kissed her forehead.

“that was…”

“amazing,” azzi mumbled, lips against her collarbone.

“you trying to make me never leave?”

“is it working?”

paige laughed softly. “god, yes.”

an hour later, paige was half asleep when she heard it:

knock. knock. knock.

then ice’s voice from outside the door: “can y’all please be quiet next time? we could hear y’all loud and clear.”

kk added from the hallway: “i am so done with y’all.”

paige muffled her face into azzi’s shoulder, laughing.

“we weren’t that loud,” azzi protested weakly.

“baby i’m pretty sure you screamed my name. twice,” paige whispered.

azzi hit her with a pillow.

paige kissed her cheek. “i love when you yell.”

“oh my god stop.” azzi rolled her eyes, but she was blushing hard.

eventually, they got dressed again—barely—and cracked the door open. sure enough, kk and ice were on the couch playing fortnite, pretending they hadn’t just roasted them through a closed door.

“we’re getting food,” paige said. “y’all hungry?”

ice didn’t even look up. “starving.”

“but you two need to chill.”

paige smirked. “can’t promise that.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the night air was warm, the breeze filtering through the open windows of azzi’s car. paige was driving. obviously.

they were barely two minutes into the drive when paige’s hand found azzi’s thigh.

“really?” azzi murmured, glancing over with a raised brow, though she made no move to stop her. she even shifted slightly so paige’s hand could rest higher.

“i need my hand to stay somewhere calm,” paige said, eyes still on the road. “and your thigh is the softest thing i’ve touched in three weeks.”

from the back seat, kk groaned. “you two are disgusting.”

“bruh i did not miss this at all.” ice added, head tilted dramatically against the headrest.

azzi reached over and turned the volume up a little just to drown them out. “we’re being normal,” she said, smirking.

paige nodded. “it’s just a hand on a high.”

“if you two start making out at a stoplight, i’m walking home.” kk muttered.

paige flashed a grin in the rearview mirror. “no promises.”

“i’ll throw myself out the window,” ice said flatly. “i mean it.”

ice and kk ordered enough food for a football team. azzi and paige split fries, giggling like middle schoolers over how long the mozzarella sticks took.

azzi kept brushing her foot against paige’s under the table. paige kept whispering things in her ear that made her blush.

at one point, kk leaned back with her chocolate milkshake. “so, when are you two getting married?”

azzi nearly choked. paige just smirked. “you wanna be the flower girl?”

“i’ll be the priest if it gets y’all to chill out,” ice deadpanned.

they ended the night back in the car, food wrappers rustling, laughter trailing off as paige drove them through sleepy storrs roads.

back in the dorm, ice and kk peeled off toward the common room with a final warning:

“if we hear anything again tonight,” ice called out, “we’re starting a gofundme.”

“we finna put y’all down for a noise complaint for real,” kk added. “good night.”

azzi rolled her eyes, dragging paige toward her room again. “they love us.”

“they hate us,” paige replied, laughing.

azzi closed the bathroom door behind them, locking it out of habit. the warm light made the tiles glow softly. paige sat on the edge of the sink, tugging off her socks while azzi reached into the shower and turned on the water. steam rose slowly.

“i don’t even care that we’ve only been apart for three weeks,” paige said, standing to lift her shirt over her head. “it felt like a year.”

azzi glanced at her over her shoulder, smiling. “it really did.”

soon enough they stepped into the shower together. paige immediately pulled azzi close under the stream, hands sliding down her back, lips pressing to her temple. azzi looped her arms around paige’s neck and rested her head on her shoulder.

“i’ve missed this,” azzi said quietly.

“same.”

they stayed like that for a while—just holding each other, letting the heat soak into their skin.

then, inevitably, hands started wandering. paige’s mouth drifted down azzi’s jaw and azzi arched into her with a quiet gasp, fingers tangling in her wet blonde hair.

there was nothing rushed about it. it was slow. intimate. needed.

after the shower they were wrapped in fresh towels and oversized shirts, as they got ready for bed together—brushing teeth side by side at the sink, laughing as azzi sprayed way too much detangler in paige’s hair.

they climbed into bed with legs tangled, the fan humming above them. paige was on her back, azzi sprawled half across her, head on her chest.

paige’s fingers played lazily with the hem of azzi’s l shirt. “i really wish i could stay longer.”

“you have like… three days off, right?”

“yeah. but i already wanna freeze time.”

azzi looked up at her, eyes a little misty. “i miss you every day.”

paige kissed her gently. “you have no idea how proud of you i am.”

“same,” azzi whispered. “every time i see highlights of you, i scream. like. out loud. in the gym.”

“i know,” paige smirked. “caroline told me.”

azzi blushed, hiding her face. “traitor.”

“you’re gonna be there soon,” paige said softly. “wnba. i can’t wait to watch you drop 30 on everyone.”

azzi traced little circles on paige’s stomach. “you’ll be in the front row, right?”

“always.”

they kissed again—slow and warm, no urgency this time. just love.

and when they finally curled up under the blanket, azzi whispered into paige’s neck: “don’t leave until you absolutely have to.”

“i won’t.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the morning sunlight spilled into azzi’s room like it owned the place. paige groaned and rolled deeper under the sheets, burying her face in azzi’s neck.

“get up, sleepyhead,” azzi murmured, brushing her fingers through paige’s messy hair.

“no,” paige mumbled. “i’m retired.”

“you literally played a game last week.”

“exactly. let me live.”

azzi kissed her cheek. “i have practice baby.”

paige pulled her closer. “cancel it.”

azzi laughed. “you want me to get benched?”

paige shrugged. “then i’ll get benched too. solidarity.”

“you don’t even play for uconn anymore.”

“minor detail.”

azzi was in the gym with a few teammates running drills. her jumper was smooth as ever, but something in her posture said her mind was somewhere else—every glance toward the door, every pause between sets.

then the door creaked open.

“nice form,” paige called out, leaning casually against the wall in a uconn tee that showed off her muscles just right.

azzi froze. so did everyone else.

ice dropped the ball she was holding. “oh no.”

kk clapped dramatically. “here we go again.”

azzi jogged over to paige like she hadn’t already seen her all night and morning, like her body just moved on instinct. the moment she was close enough, she threw her arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth—right there in front of the team.

“wow,” jana muttered.

“you miss me that much?” paige teased when they broke apart, brushing her thumb over azzi’s cheek.

azzi grinned. “shut up. you’re the one who showed up looking like that.”

kk groaned. “i can’t be here.”

sarah pointed at the door. “take it to a room. this is a training facility.”

“you’re just mad we’re cute,” azzi called over her shoulder as she tugged paige toward the bleachers.

“i’m mad y’all are making me miss my girl,” kk shouted back.

later that night, paige and azzi were back in her room, sprawled out on the bed again, hair still damp from another steamy shower they’d taken “to cool down,” which was a lie and everyone knew it.

paige reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded t-shirt.

azzi’s eyes widened. “is that…?”

“my dallas warmup shirt,” paige said, handing it over. “figured you should have one. smells like me. you’re welcome.”

azzi held it to her chest. “i’m never taking this off.”

“please do, eventually,” paige said. “or you’ll smell like an actual locker room.”

azzi threw a pillow at her. “you’re so annoying.”

“you love it.”

“i do,” she admitted, smiling softly.

just before lights out, they wandered into the kitchen to grab snacks.

ice was sprawled on the couch with kk, both of them locked into a chaotic fortnite match. the second they spotted paige and azzi, they both screamed in unison:

“get a room!”

paige blinked. “we have a room.”

“y’all just came out of it,” kk said, tossing her controller down. “and now you’re back like nothing happened.”

“you two need supervision,” ice added.

“we’re literally just getting snacks,” azzi said, grabbing a bag of popcorn.

“y’all get snacks like you’re in a movie scene,” kk complained. “too much eye contact and way too much touching.”

paige slid an arm around azzi’s waist. “we’re just affectionate.”

“you’re menace-level affectionate,” ice muttered.

azzi just kissed paige’s cheek. “jealousy is a disease.”

kk gagged audibly.

back in azzi’s room, they climbed under the covers, the popcorn bowl between them, a movie playing softly in the background.

azzi wore paige’s dallas shirt. it hung down her thighs, barely covering her. paige stared for way too long.

“eyes up here.”

“you got it princess.”

they fed each other popcorn until paige started licking the butter off of azzi’s fingers, making her laugh.

azzi tackled her and they rolled around laughing until paige pinned her with a playful smirk.

“you’re so whipped,” paige teased.

“me?” azzi raised an eyebrow. “you flew across the country.”

“i came here for basketball,” paige joked.

azzi leaned down and kissed her, long and slow. “liar.”

paige smiled into the kiss. “you caught me.”

the next evening came too fast.

azzi lay on her back in bed, hair still damp from the shower they’d just taken together, paige resting beside her in nothing but an old uconn shirt and soft cotton shorts.

their skin still buzzed — from the warmth of the water, from each other.

they’d barely kept their hands to themselves while in the bathroom.

paige had been behind azzi the entire time — arms around her waist while they brushed their teeth, kissing her shoulder between swipes of the toothbrush, murmuring, “you’re so damn pretty,” through a mouth full of toothpaste.

azzi had almost spit hers out from laughing.

now, back in bed, it was quiet. paige’s hand was resting on azzi’s stomach, her fingers idly tracing small circles on her skin. her legs tangled with azzi’s under the blankets.

“you smell like my shampoo,” azzi whispered.

paige smiled. “you smell like heaven.”

“you’re such a cornball.”

“and yet, here you are,” paige murmured, nuzzling closer. “loving every second of it.”

azzi reached up and ran her fingers through paige’s slightly damp hair. “i really do.”

they kissed again — soft, slow, and lingering. like neither of them wanted it to end.

paige rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow so she could look down at azzi. her eyes were serious, warm.

“you know i think about you all the time when i’m in dallas, right?”

azzi nodded. “same. every single day.”

“i hate being away from you.”

“me too. but i think it’s also… making us stronger.”

paige smiled. “yeah. it’s like… no matter where we are, we’re still us.”

azzi leaned up and kissed her chin. “we’ll be together full-time soon.”

“i know.” paige gently tucked a strand of hair behind azzi’s ear. “when you get to the league… i hope we’re on the same team.”

“if not, i’m guarding you every time,” azzi smirked. “and i’m locking you up.”

paige laughed. “you wish. you’d foul out in the first half.”

“you’d fall in love again mid-game and lose focus.”

“unfair tactic,” paige grinned. “using my heart against me.”

azzi leaned up and kissed her deeply, then whispered, “you’re mine. always.”

paige kissed her again, slower this time, hands on azzi’s hips, holding her like she was everything.

because she was.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the next morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. paige had to head back to dallas.

azzi stood in the hallway, wearing one of paige’s hoodies, watching as paige zipped up her bag.

“i should sabotage your flight,” azzi said, arms crossed, pretending to pout.

“don’t tempt me to miss it.”

they stood at the door for too long. hugging. kissing. whispering promises they’d already made a dozen times over.

“i love you,” azzi said into paige’s neck.

“i love you more,” paige said, pulling back and brushing their noses together. “don’t argue. i win.”

azzi narrowed her eyes. “fine. but only this time.”

caroline arrived to drive paige to the airport, honking once from outside the dorm.

paige opened the door, bag slung over her shoulder, azzi clinging to her hand like it might be the last time.

ice and kk were on the couch — again.

as soon as they saw the two lovebirds in the doorway, they both said:

“thank god, we can finally have peace again.”

azzi flipped them off, still clinging to paige.

ice pointed to the hallway. “now kiss and go.”

paige turned to azzi and, right in front of everyone, kissed her like she meant it — like she always did.

azzi was breathless when they broke apart.

“be safe,” she whispered.

“you too. text me the second you get out of practice.”

azzi smiled, tears welling up. “i love you.”

paige cupped her face. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

azzi nodded. “okay.”

azzi was still in bed, paige’s hoodie swallowed around her like a second skin. the sheets smelled like her. the silence was heavier now, like the room knew it was missing someone.

her phone buzzed.

she didn’t expect anything—paige hadn’t texted since she left—but when she opened it and saw the name, her heart caught in her throat.

leaving sucks. i hate every part of it. packing, airports, this stupid seat that isn’t next to you. but i just wanted you to know that i’m still carrying the way you looked at me this morning. i’m still hearing your laugh in my head. i still feel your hands on me, like they left a print only i can see. i left my heart in your bed. wrapped in your sheets. wrapped in you. so yeah, i’ll be back soon. because i don’t feel like me when i’m not with you. i love you, az.

azzi read it once, then again, slower. the ache in her chest swelled until it pushed tears from her eyes—quiet, stubborn ones she wiped away with the cuff of paige’s sleeve.

she buried her face in the hoodie and whispered into the cotton:

“i’m not me without you either.”

she didn’t cry.

much.

after a minute she decided to reply.

you’re the worst for making me cry this early. i miss you so much it physically hurts. the bed’s too cold. the room’s too quiet. i keep rolling over expecting to find you there. you really did leave your heart here. and i’m holding onto it like it’s mine, because it is. so don’t take too long, okay? i need your laugh in this room again. i need your hands, your voice, your everything. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything. come back to me soon. i love you, p.

paige stared at azzi’s message, she hadn’t expected a reply so fast—definitely not one that hit her this hard.

her chest tightened.

she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to fight the sting in her eyes. it didn’t work.

she read it again. and again.

then, quietly, she smiled to herself.

she pulled her hoodie tighter, still faintly smelling like azzi, and typed with thumbs that shook a little more than she’d ever admit:

i’m coming back the second i can. im yours, az. always. i don’t know how i got this lucky, but i’m not letting you go. i love you. so damn much.

she locked her phone, leaned her head against the window, and whispered, barely loud enough to hear herself:

“im gonna marry her one day.”

#fiction #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #dallas wings #uconn huskies #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics

607 notes · View notes

eternalsunrise · 9 months ago

Text

study date

lsu! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 1.7k

tags! established relationship, make out sesh, no actual smut, jus a couple of horny college kids in love with each other, vomit inducing fluff

notes! brainrot so bad i had to start writing fics. hope the joe burrow community finds this well 🧘‍♀️ expect more for joe coming! xoxo

letters on a keyboard clicking and a pencil scrawling across paper are the only sounds that reverberate around the room. you started off sitting up straight, but as time progressed you’re basically lying down, laptop perched on your lap.

the pillows are plush underneath you, and your boyfriend’s scent is enveloping you. there’s something about joe’s bed that always feels 10 times more comfortable than your own.

if you closed your eyes you could probably doze off for a mid afternoon nap.

you hear the sound of someone shifting above the covers, but you don’t turn your head to look, too preoccupied with your essay that’s due in the morning.

you feel a kiss press against your cheek, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “hi joey. you doing okay?”

another kiss against your cheek, followed by an overdramatic sigh, “yeah, just really hard to focus on statistics with something so distracting in my bed.”

joe’s closer now, a hand playing with your hair as he peppers kisses down your jawline.

you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing exactly how this was going to go. “oh i’m the distracting one?” you question, your tone sarcastic.

he moves his hand to your cheek, tilting your head to the left to face him. his blue eyes bore into yours and you realize why you’d avoided looking at him. it’s much easier to stay on task without his handsome face in view.

joe leans down to place a slow peck on your lips, “a very.” peck. “very.” peck. “pretty distraction.”

he pulls away from you entirely, smirking when you try and chase his lips. this is exactly why you wanted to study alone. as much as you loved your boyfriend, how are you expected to get anything done with a gorgeous quarterback all over you? but the two of you have barely seen each other these past few weeks, and joe insisted on you both doing schoolwork together before his practice later that day.

“joe. baby. we’re supposed to be studying.” your voice is pleading, begging for any sort of mercy. he caresses your cheek bone with his thumb, a smirk sitting on the side of his mouth. “i am studying.” he uses a tone that tells you he wants you to ask what his punchline is. you bite.

“and what are you studying exactly, joseph?”

he trails his hand down your body until it rests on your waist, just above where your hands and laptop sit. he lets his eyes trail down and back up, bright blues staring at you while he licks his lips, “anatomy.”

you let out a laugh for his sake, grabbing his wrist and removing his hand from your body, “you’re impossible!” you place a quick kiss on his lips, standing up and taking your laptop.

joe groans loudly, falling back against the pillows on his bed, “where are you going?”

you carry your work to his wooden, student-issued desk, setting your laptop down and taking a seat. “you’re going to stay there. and i’m going to stay here. we both need to get work done and it’s hard to do that when you’re being…well you!” you try to sound frustrated, but you both know better.

joe being the cocky bastard he is, just gives you a knowing smile. the effect he has on you just strokes his ego (as if anyone else needed to). he decides to leave you be for the time being. he picks his pencil back up and holds his hands up in faux innocence, “yes ma’am. whatever you need.”

you turn back to your essay, typing your third page, smiling when the framed picture of you two displayed on his desk appears in your peripheral vision. if you looked around, your presence is covering this room. his whole apartment in fact. sure, you may be putty in his hands. but you have joe burrow pretty much wrapped around your finger.

after about 20 minutes of both of you working diligently in silence, you hear joe clear his throat.

“hey pretty?”

“mhm?” you reply, clicking back and forth between your class notes and your paper.

“didn’t you say you took this class last year?” joe asks, deep voice like velvet when it hits your ears.

you pause your task and turn around in your chair, “yeah i did for a semester, why?” he looks absolutely delicious. he’s sporting a cozy lsu hoodie and nike gym shorts that reach barely mid thigh, his trademark array of bracelets decorate his wrists. the way one of this legs is raised make his shorts ride up, giving you a peek at his black briefs. you suddenly wonder if the essay is even that important.

“wanna come check this for me? make sure i did it right?” he taps his pencil a couple of times and holds out his notebook toward you. there’s no flirtation intent behind joe’s question, he just values your insight. and for some reason, that just turns you on even more. he’s won. he’s getting what he wanted without even trying.

you stand up from your seat and make your way over to him, taking the notebook from his hand. he looks up at you in silence, waiting for you to check his work. but instead you toss the notebook to the side. it makes a slight thud when it hits the hardwood.

joe opens his mouth to question your actions but you’re on the bed with him in a matter of seconds. you swing your leg over his hip and straddle his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands are on you immediately, per instinct, large hands engulfing your thighs. it takes him a moment to process your actions but he sobers up quickly, cocky and confident, “aw, who knew stats could get you so worked up?”

you want to knock that stupid smirk off of his face. you also never want it to go away.

“shut up.” followed by a feverish kiss full of want and desire. the lack of each other for weeks has stretched the rubber band of tension to a hilt, and you finally let it snap. your fingers thread through his wavy hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just a bit. he’s due for a haircut soon. a noise rattles up from his throat, your reaction immediate. your hips grind down, begging for some friction. he gladly provides, guiding your waist back and forth.

the next moments are full of tongue kisses and heavy breathing. “next time we—“ gasp. “study together, we’re doing it in public–ow!” joe bites your lip, an apology vibrates against your lip, you know he doesn’t mean it. “like the library.” joe grips your hips and flips the two of you over with ease. you yelp in surprise, now looking up at him.

joe scoffs at your words, “like that’s ever stopped us before.” he reconnects your lips, a new sense of urgency found in this kiss. he props himself up with an elbow next to your head. your leg finds itself hooking around his waist, forcing him impossibly closer to you. he breaks away for air, hand dragging up and down your lifted thigh. he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

he looks down between your bodies and watches as your hips lift to meet his own, adam’s apple bobbing. his eyes flick back to yours, a familiar darkness clouding the ocean. his kisses follow a trail down your jaw, “god baby, you drive me crazy.” he purrs in your ear, lips attacking your neck. you aren’t sure how he can say that, when you’re the one that feels dizzy under his touch. your hand finds his hair again, letting out fits of giggles when his mouth grazes your most sensitive spots.

you tilt your head to the side, catching sight of the time on your phone screen as it lit up on the nightstand. you let out a gasp, partly because of joe shifting his hand between your thighs, but mostly because it was almost time for, “joe. practice.”

he returns his attention to your lips, “5 more minutes, all i need.” he murmurs, capturing you in a kiss that’s hard to turn away from. you feel his hand slip under the waist band of your pants, and as much as you dread this ending; you know what you need to do.

“joey. babe, hey.” you use your grip on his hair to pull him away. the love drunk look on his face makes this even harder. “listen. as much as i want to, we can’t. you love to be unreasonably early, and coach o will track me down himself if i’m the reason his star isn’t there for pre, pre warmups.”

joe chuckles and nods his head, reluctantly removing his hands from you entirely; it’s as if you’re magnets, if he isn’t across the room you’ll gravitate back together. he stands and starts to get ready for the one thing you’re forced to share the title of joe’s first love with, football.

you start to stand to get ready to go home, but joe quickly faces you and shakes his head, black backpack and cleats in his hands.

“no no no stay. here.” he throws his backpack over his shoulder and uses his free hand to dig in his pocket. he pulls out his purple lanyard, plucking his apartment key from the carabiner.

joe places it in your hand and folds your fingers over it.

“here, i’m gonna have you one made anyway. go back to your dorm, grab some stuff. you can order dinner, finish your homework here. i’ll be back in a couple hours and i’ll take you to that froyo shop down the street and then we can…finish what we started.” joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. he punctuates his words with a sweet kiss on your lips, another on your forehead, “bye pretty. love you.”

you stare at him in awe, “love you. have fun!”

he winks at you before he walks out of the front door.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the shiny key in your palm. you’re shocked at how he can make such a big relationship step seem so nonchalant. he’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, you being around more. in his space.

you flop down on your back, kicking your feet with a giddy smile. if you weren’t alone you’d be embarrassed.

looks like you’ll be studying here a lot more often.

#joe burrow x reader #x reader #joe burrow fic #lsu joe #lsu joe burrow #joe burrow #joe burrow x you

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vamptizm · 3 months ago

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SATURN — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x ex teammate!gf

synopsis: the of joy watching your girlfriend finally accomplish the dream you’d chased together for years had you feeling as if you were on another planet.

warnings: none.

word count: 4.1k

note: NATTY BABYYYY this is lowkey supposed to be part of a series but idc. might write a nasty part 2 idk yet

@brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi

You were already in your seat before warmups even started, nestled between some of the players' families — the energy in the arena pulsing like a heartbeat under your skin. The crowd was alive, buzzing with excitement, nerves, hope — everything you knew Paige was probably feeling tenfold.

You shifted in your seat, politely chatting with a few of the parents nearby, when you felt the subtle buzz-buzz of your phone in your back pocket. Once. Then again. And even before you touched it, you already knew.

It was her.

Paige was the only one you ever left your notifications on for — a quiet agreement between the two of you that started back when you were teammates. Important games, late-night flights, tournament weeks. The world could wait. But not each other.

You slipped the phone out and glanced down, already smiling at the first few lines of her message. She didn’t have to say she was nervous — not directly — you knew her. Knew the way she over-thought during high stakes. Knew when her confidence sometimes needed a little steadying hand. And maybe, in this moment, that was you.

Without hesitation, you leaned slightly toward Amy, tapping her gently on the arm. "I'm gonna go see her real quick," you said, voice raised just enough to carry over the swelling music. "I think she's a bit more nervous than she lets on."

Amy turned to you with a warm smile, her eyes soft and familiar. "Alright, hun. Be careful not to get lost or hurt," she teased, patting your back gently.

You chuckled lightly, offering a nod before slipping away, weaving through the packed row of seats with the kind of practiced ease that only years in arenas could give you. At the base of the stands, a security guard moved to stop you until you flashed the laminated pass hanging from your neck — the one Paige gave you just in case the ‘I played here’ card didn't cut it.

"Special clearance," you said with a playful grin, tapping the badge.

He nodded and stepped aside, and you made your way down the tunnel, the sounds of the court fading into a muffled roar behind you. Your footsteps echoed against the concrete, sneakers quiet but purposeful as you searched for the locker room.

You'd walked hallways like these more times than you could count, but tonight it felt different — electric. Heavier. As if every brick remembered the weight of your own games, your own moments.

You passed staff, trainers, and volunteers — offering polite nods, a quick smile, but your focus didn't waver. And finally, you reached it. The door to the locker room stood just ahead, slightly ajar, voices murmuring beyond it.

You took a steady breath.

Raising your hand, you knocked gently, not wanting to interrupt too harshly — but the response was immediate. The door swung open with a soft creak and standing there, arms crossed like a disappointed sitcom dad, was Geno Auriemma himself.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he squinted at you with that familiar mock-annoyed stare. "What the hell do you want?" he said, dry as sandpaper. "Don't you have a season to be preparing for?"

You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips. "Nice to see you too, Coach," you said sweetly. "Just came to say hi to your star player before the game. She sounded like she needed a little emotional support."

He huffed, dramatically stepping back but still blocking the doorway. "Great. Just what I need. A walking distraction waltzing in here like she still owns the place." He turned his head toward the locker room behind him. "Bueckers! Your traitor of a girlfriend is here."

You heard a faint laugh from somewhere inside before Paige's voice came closer, followed by her footsteps. "You don't have to say it like it's a federal offense, Coach," she called.

"I do when someone deserts my program and then has the audacity to come distract my loyal players." Geno muttered.

You bit back a laugh, stepping inside just slightly, hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry I didn't stay until I was grey and old for a sixth year. That wouldn’t have been on-brand for me."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Aubrey did it. You could've too. But no, you’re busy being passed around from team to team.

Your jaw fell comically at his harsh joke, though it was clear on your face that you found it funny.

Before you could respond, Paige appeared just behind him, her ever-familiar grin lighting up her face. "Not too much on her," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder with the kind of ease only years under his coaching could earn.

Geno snorted, stepping aside with an exaggerated grumble. "Great. Now they're both ganging up on me," he mumbled, brushing past the two of you. "You've got five minutes before I drag her back by that ponytail. Don't make me come looking."

And then he was gone, muttering something else under his breath as he disappeared down the hall.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the hallway suddenly felt a little quieter — just the two of you in your own little world for a moment.

Paige's grin melted into a familiar, knowing smirk, her eyes slowly dragging over you with no rush, like she had all the time in the world. She tilted her head slightly, tongue pressing into the inside of her cheek as her gaze took in the outfit that had her full attention: her white UConn #5 jersey — the one she wore when setting her new career high — cropped just right, the hem tucked into the wire of your bra. Two dainty chains shimmered at your waist, resting lightly against your skin, and that denim skirt you wore? It had her completely entranced.

"You look beautiful, mama," she murmured, her voice low and warm, hands rising to curl gently around your exposed waist and bringing you closer. Her thumbs brushed softly along your skin, like she was trying to commit every inch of you to memory before she had to leave.

You rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered at the nickname, lifting your hand to place a single finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up again. "Eyes up here," you said with a teasing smile.

She smirked even more but obeyed, locking eyes with you now, and something in her expression shifted—just barely. There was still that signature confidence lingering behind her grin, but it flickered for a second. She was nervous. You knew her well enough to read between the lines of her confidence.

So you let your hands move too—one settling against her jaw, the other tracing slow, comforting patterns along the back of her neck as you leaned in just slightly.

"You got this," you whispered, your voice soft but steady. "You all do. You've worked so fucking hard. I've seen it. I've lived it. There's not a single team that deserves this more than you guys."

She sighed quietly, leaning into your touch for a moment, grounding herself.

"And no matter how this goes, okay? You've already made history. You've already built a legacy here that no one can touch. This game doesn't change that."

Paige looked at you, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "Easy for you to say," she muttered, her thumb still circling your waist, "you won a natty your first year here. Freshie magic or something."

You snorted, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Yeah, and I also tore my ACL and dislocated my knee right after, and then lost two championship games after coming back," you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Trust me, legacy isn't built in the win column. It's built in moments like this—where you show the fuck up no matter what."

She chuckled, head dipping as she pressed a quick kiss to your collarbone. "Why do you always know exactly what to say?"

"Because I'm wise. And I'm hot. And you're madly in love with me, so it helps the delivery," you replied with an obnoxious smirk, earning an eye roll and a grin from her.

But just like that, a knock came from inside the locker room—someone calling out a one-minute warning.

Paige's smile faded into something more solemn, more focused. She looked at you like she wanted time to stop.

You leaned in and kissed her—slow and grounding, a kiss full of belief and reassurance, not desperation.

"I'll be right there in the stands," you whispered against her lips. "Cheering like hell for you."

She nodded, brushing her nose against yours once more before pulling away, a last squeeze at your waist anchoring her before she stepped back inside.

And then you were turning on your heel, heart pounding in your chest, rushing back up the tunnel with a promise in your chest and her kiss still warm on your lips.

You sat wedged between Amy and Aaliyah, knees bouncing and knuckles cracking one after the other, that nervous tick you could never seem to shake. The roar of the crowd was muffled by the storm brewing in your chest—excitement, anxiety, hope. You weren't even on the court, but it felt like your lungs were working overtime, like your body hadn't quite realized you weren't the one playing tonight.

Your eyes were locked on Paige. You knew her rhythm, the way her feet moved before a shot, the slight squint she made when something didn't feel right in her wrist. And right now? She was off. Not by much, not enough for the commentators to acknowledge — but you noticed. A missed layup. A clean three that rimmed out. A hesitation where there usually was none.

"She's holding back," you mumbled under your breath, not sure if it was to Amy or yourself.

Amy glanced sideways, calm despite the tension, her hand resting patiently in her lap. "She's pacing herself. It's a long game," she murmured, like a mother who'd said that to herself a thousand times over the years.

You swallowed hard, fingers flexing again.

Halftime came. A ten-point lead didn't erase all the nerves, but it helped you breathe. You were ushered into a short media segment with Chiney, Elle, and Draya—each of them glowing with energy and optimism. Most of them had chosen South Carolina as their winner, just like the last time. And you knew Paige heard, knew that she wanted to prove them wrong once again. You forced a grin, answered their questions with practiced poise and your usual humor, cracked a quick joke about having more nerves now than you ever did during your championship games. But as soon as the segment ended and you were back in your seat, your hands found each other again. Crack. Crack. Crack.

The second half started with fire.

UConn came out swinging—faster, sharper, hungrier. It was like watching the team you knew they were all season finally come alive. The passes were crisp. The communication was seamless. And Paige? Paige lit up. The crowd surged every time her feet left the ground, and you felt every ripple of it.

Then came the moment—before the fourth quarter even began. UConn had ballooned the lead to twenty points. Twenty. Against South Carolina.

You knew. They had it.

They really, truly had it.

With just minutes left in the game, Paige was called out. You didn't even hear the announcer. All you saw was her name flash on the substitution board, and then her figure walking off the court for the last time in a UConn jersey. She headed straight for Geno.

And that was it.

You saw the second her walls fell. Her arms wrapped tight around him, her face buried into his shoulder, and she cried. Not from sadness, not even from relief—just that overwhelming wave of everything at once. The grief of goodbye, the joy of winning, the weight of all she'd carried for five years crashing down at once.

You bit your lip hard, trying to blink it away.

But the tears came anyway.

Your hand, almost on instinct, reached for Amy's beside you. You didn't even realize you'd done it until you felt her soft squeeze, her thumb gently brushing your knuckles.

"She did it," Amy said softly, her own voice thick. "Our girl did it."

You nodded, a teardrop slipping down your cheek as you watched Paige wipe her own. You didn't care about the cameras or the cheering crowd around you. All you saw was the girl you loved standing in the center of it all—finally at peace with the legacy she’d leave behind.

And God, she looked beautiful.

The clock ticked down, South Carolina letting the seconds bleed out as they dribbled at the top of the key. 82 to 59. There was nothing left to chase, nothing left to prove. You could see it in their body language—shoulders slack, heads low. Acceptance.

But you?

You could barely breathe.

Your chest was tight with emotion, heart hammering beneath your UConn jersey as if it had taken the court with Paige. The tears were already there, sitting heavy in your eyes, threatening to spill every time you blinked.

This wasn't just a win.

This was a culmination.

Of years of grit. Of heartbreak and healing. Of setbacks that could've broken her. Could've broken anyone, including you. But Paige never let them. And through every single one — every surgery, every rehab session, every media doubt and ‘what if’ — she fought her way back.

And tonight, she crossed the finish line.

National. Champion.

The buzzer blared and the world exploded. The roar of the arena became a blur as blue and white stormed the court, players tackling each other into tears and laughter and chaos.

A sob broke from your chest before you even knew it was coming.

Aaliyah pulled you into a tight hug, your bodies shaking with the same overwhelming joy. "They fucking did it," she whispered into your shoulder, and your tears fell freely now.

Then Amy was there, and you didn't even hesitate. You folded into her arms like she was your own mother, crying into her shoulder as she cradled you. "I'm so proud of her," you choked, and Amy's voice cracked, too.

"I know, baby. Me too."

It was only a moment, but it felt eternal—one of those fragments of time that would etch itself into your memory forever. The kind you'd still feel in your chest decades from now.

The hugs came in waves after that. Bob pulled you in, patting your back like he'd known you your whole life, Drew following. Jana and Azzi’s families were in tears, too — parents who'd watched their daughters pour everything into this season. You found yourself hugging them all, despite the fact that you were never the touchy kind.

But tonight? Tonight, everything was different.

You were overflowing with so much love, so much pride, that it didn't matter how many people you embraced. You wanted to hold them, hold something, because it was the only way you knew how to keep from completely falling apart.

Because this wasn't just UConn winning. This was Paige winning.

Your Paige.

And after everything she'd survived, everything she'd sacrificed, there wasn't a single person in this building who deserved it more.

Blue and white confetti began to rain from the rafters like snowflakes falling from heaven. Like they’d been waiting an eternity to rain for this team, each piece catching the light as it fluttered down onto the court—onto jerseys soaked in sweat and triumph, onto shoes that had carried a thousand miles’ worth of effort. You were already on your feet, pushing past rows of elated families and clapping fans, heart hammering as your eyes locked on the chaos unfolding below.

You didn’t wait. Couldn’t. Your legs carried you forward before your mind could catch up, weaving through bodies — staff, players, press — your official pass swinging around your neck as you moved with purpose. Nothing else mattered but getting to her.

Paige was somewhere in the mess of limbs and laughter, her face flushed with adrenaline and joy, heart pounding so hard she swore she could feel it in her ears. They’d done it. She’d done it. After everything—injuries, heartbreak, missed chances—she had finally finished what she started.

But as the arena roared around her and her teammates screamed with triumph, none of it felt quite real.

Not until she saw you.

Her eyes scanned desperately through the confetti-streaked blur, searching past the crowd of coaches and teammates and celebratory loved ones until — there. That familiar silhouette, that proud, teary-eyed smile she’d know in any stadium, in any lifetime.

You were coming toward her, dodging through the swell of people like gravity was pulling you straight to her. Your tears had long dried thanks to Aaliyah’s tissue and a few shaky breaths, but the way your chest rose and fell with emotion, the way your smile quivered just enough to betray what this moment meant—it all hit her like a second wave of victory.

She didn’t wait either.

Shoving past the bodies in her way, Paige moved faster than she had all game. A blur of blue and white, of shoes pounding the floor, until finally — finally — she reached you.

And without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you and pulled you in like you were her anchor in a storm. Your bodies collided with the force of something years in the making, her face burying itself in the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin as she clung to you like you were the only thing tethering her to the earth.

She didn’t care about the cameras. The trophies. The future.

She only cared about this. About you.

Your arms came around her neck, locking her in just as tight as you whispered, voice shaking but certain, “I’m so proud of you, I could scream.”

Her breath hitched against your shoulder, and when she pulled back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes were glassy—overwhelmed, elated, completely undone. You could see everything she couldn’t say reflected in them.

Another tear slipped down your cheek, and Paige leaned in to kiss it away without thinking, without hesitation, her lips brushing your skin with so much gentleness it undid you all over again.

“You fucking did it,” you breathed, voice cracking with the weight of it all.

The urge to kiss her—really kiss her—was overwhelming, but you held back. You weren’t public yet. You’d agreed to wait until the WNBA Draft, until she was ready. But truthfully, it felt like everyone in the world already knew. The way she looked at you like you hung the moon didn’t exactly scream subtle.

So instead, you cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheeks, trying to memorize every detail—every emotion etched into her features. Your smile trembled as you whispered, “God, I’m so relieved and overjoyed that I feel dizzy.”

She let out a soft, breathless laugh—something between disbelief and pure elation—and pressed her forehead against yours, her voice breaking through the din, “Hold onto me, then. I’ve got you, angel.”

And in that moment, with confetti clinging to her hair and sweat still glistening on her brow, Paige Bueckers didn’t just feel like a champion.

She felt whole.

The confetti was still falling when you found yourself wrapped up in the chaos of celebration—players, coaches, staff, families, cameras flashing in every direction. And yet, through all of it, Paige refused to let go of you. She hadn’t once loosened her grip on your hand unless absolutely necessary. She dragged you with her everywhere—through the mob of hugs and team photos, past media personnel and assistants trying to usher players into the right spots. If she had to move, you were moving with her.

It didn’t exactly help the dating ‘rumors,’ but it’s not like either of you were trying that hard to hide it anymore. Not when every glance, every touch, every lingering moment screamed what hadn’t been said out loud yet. And the only time she’d left your side was for a few post-game interviews—short ones she kept brief, always glancing over her shoulder like she couldn’t wait to get back to you.

By the time she returned, she was in full celebration gear — navy blue championship shirt, the official ‘2025 National Champions’ hat perched crookedly on her head thanks to the ponytail sticking through the back. It wasn’t sitting properly, but she didn’t care. She looked every bit the moment — casual, powerful, confident. The cut-down net hung around her neck like jewelry, each white loop resting against her chest like a symbol of everything she’d fought for.

You’d never wanted someone more in your life.

There she was — grinning, flushed, radiant with triumph and joy. Cool as hell with that net swaying like a diamond chain, like a statement piece. She looked like victory and history wrapped into one, and it made your heart clench. It also made your thighs clench, but that was another battle you’d deal with later.

She turned to you mid-laugh, slipping an arm around your shoulder so easily, so instinctively, it was like your place had always been right there beside her. You leaned into her side as you laughed along with your friends and their families, occasionally pausing to pose for photos, smiling so much your cheeks ached.

Still, it all felt surreal.

Overwhelming, yes—but not in a bad way. Just… different.

It reminded you of your own championship win, though yours had been more quiet, intimate. COVID-era restrictions kept the arena half-empty, the celebration smaller. It had been beautiful in its own way — just your team, close family, a bubble of victory you’d all created together. But this? This was a different universe. The noise, the cameras, the massive crowd — this was loud, unapologetic joy, the kind of celebration dreams are made of.

And Paige knew that. She remembered. She’d watched you win on her TV screen her senior year of high school, wide-eyed and proud, texting you congratulations from her living-room as she geared up for her freshman year at UConn. She’d imagined chasing a repeat with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. But god had other plans.

Instead, it was you watching her from the sidelines that year, your injured leg keeping you benched while she chased the dream alone.

It was all coming full circle now.

You didn’t even realize she was looking at you until her hand reached up to tug off her crooked hat. She turned to face you fully, that soft, easy smile spreading across her face — the kind only you ever got. Then, with the gentlest touch, she placed the hat on your head, her fingers brushing lightly along your temple as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your lips twitched up, amused and curious. “Why am I wearing your hat?”

Without missing a beat, her voice low and steady, she replied, “What’s mine is yours.”

Then her eyes held yours, deep and unflinching, as she added, “Including this natty. I wouldn’t be standing here without your love. Your support. Your belief in me—especially when I couldn’t believe in myself.”

Your breath hitched.

She leaned in slightly, voice quieting in a way that made it feel like no one else in the world existed. “We did this for you too. You, Aaliyah and Nika.”

The words shattered something open inside you. Not in a painful way — more like a dam breaking, releasing every moment of sacrifice and struggle, every cheer from the bench, every quiet tear from the stands, every night you spent holding her through self-doubt and injury and pressure.

Because through all of it, you had been there. She’d carried your strength onto that court like a second heartbeat as if you were still playing alongside her and now, standing beneath a shower of confetti and surrounded by her teammates, she was handing that championship right back to you.

Your throat burned. Your vision blurred. You blinked up at her, lips trembling into the softest, most overwhelmed smile as your fingers came up to grip the brim of the hat she’d gifted you.

You didn’t cry. Not fully. But your eyes said everything.

And Paige, with a tired smile and unspeakable tenderness, reached out and pulled you close again—not for the cameras, not for the crowd.

But just for you.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers oneshot #paige bueckers x reader

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cxffecoupx · 10 months ago

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what 2 am with them looks like

seventeen × gn reader comfort, healing (kinda, idk) warnings: mentions of making love, food wc: 1.3k author's notes: this was a random thought, and has been in my drafts for so long, so i decided i had to complete it. writing this gave me a peace i didn't know existed, so i love this work very much. i hope you guys love it too <3

➼ choi seungcheol

in bed. he's probably fucking you into the next week, making you cum at least 5 times before he kisses you gently and washes you up and prepares to sleep. if not this, then you're probably on your side of the bed. the other side of the bed remains empty, because your cuddly clingy boyfriend is wrapped around you, strong arms trapping your movements and legs tangled together.

➼ yoon jeonghan

dumb conversations. lying in bed, your head resting on his arm, your arm wrapped around his torso that shakes with the laughter. it's probably one of your lame jokes that only he finds funny, or one of his hilarious stories about seungkwan and chan, but it's got you both clutching your stomachs after a while. he pulls you close with his arm that's under your head and presses a light kiss to your forehead before finding another interesting topic. when do you sleep that night, that's a question you both have no answer for.

➼ hong jisoo

deep conversations. you're both sitting in your bedroom, hugging pillows as you slip into deep conversations about the universe and your future. you aren't sure how you got here, you were in your bed to sleep one moment and in the next, you're both sitting as you talk about your wedding and your house and the stars and the moon and his mom and his job; the conversation flows easily into the next topic. he only stops when he sees you suppress a yawn for the 3rd time before kissing you and suggesting you both go to sleep.

➼ moon junhui

watching cat videos. it all started a few hours ago, with you and jun on either side of the bed, scrolling through phones. you roll over to him, perfectly landing your head on his chest as you show him your screen. "look junie," you said as you shoved the phone into his face. he chuckles before holding your hand and focusing on the video of an orange cat tripping over it's own feet. he laughs watching it, and it ends up in you lying on his chest as you both watched every single cat video available on the earth. your laughs filled the room and tears filled your eyes, but it felt so good, spending time doing silly things like this.

➼ kwon soonyoung

passive watching soap operas. its the time of calm and quiet after the rush of the day, so when you turn on the tv after dinner, you stay like that until late hours. except the focus has moved from the drama on the tv to drama from work. from sitting at the ends of the couch, you end up tangled somehow - his head resting on your lap or him sitting on the floor, hands held with yours. the tv drones on at a low volume, but by then you've both shared all the tea from your work and are giggling over the littlest of things. in the morning, you're both probably on the floor, one of the cushions as a pillow and keeping warm by hugging each other.

➼ jeon wonwoo

playing games. after much practice and pain, you'd finally gotten better at the games wonwoo often played. most nights you'd be a team going against your other friends, but sometimes you prefer to play against him. and when that happens, it ends in either of the two ways: you're winning and start shaking your hips, or he's winning and decides to deliberately lose to help you win. either way, he wants to see your happy lil dance.

➼ lee jihoon

in his studio. jihoon's seated in his studio, working on a new track. when you arrive, he immediately pulls you to him, making you sit on his lap as he hands you his headphones. you look at him, confused, but wear them anyway and listen as he plays the track he was just working on. as you fall deeper into the melody of the song, he grips your hips in anticipation. it was a song to you, from him, containing the most heartfelt emotions he'd felt for you, but couldn't communicate properly. so he decided to put them into a song, a language he speaks so well and one that you understand.

➼ lee seokmin

having breakfast cereal. you'd gone through great lengths to find and buy the brand of cereal you both highly enjoyed. so now that you have it, why wait for the morning? when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, anxious and groggy about your reaction, he'd worried you'd judge him. but maybe it's the sleepiness hanging in his mind that he forgot you both basically share the same braincell. so the next minute you're stumbling into the kitchen, looking for bowls and cartons and giggling over spilling milk and noisy spoons. by the time you're done, your stomach's filled with food and heart's filled with love.

➼ kim mingyu

moments of soft intimacy. the evening goes by peacefully: you both come home, tired and exhausted; have a silent dinner mingyu lovingly prepared and talk about work; after some leftover work you both head to bed. but slowly, the stroke on the cheek becomes kissing, drawing shapes on your back as you kiss and nip at the base of his neck. mingyu's vulnerable now, only with you, but neither of you are in a rush to haste. his hands cup over your ass and thighs; your hands are braided in his hair. his palms knead the flesh of your breasts; your fingers gently brush across his chest and abs. whether or not you make love comes later, but you sleep peacefully in each other's embrace.

➼ xu minghao

sky-watching. when you poke him awake, he's definitely concerned, but the first thought that pops to his head when you say you cant sleep is to go sit in the balcony. so now, at 2 am, you're in the balcony, a cup of warm tea in your hands and xu minghao at your side. its silent, but its a comfortable silence that wraps around you like a blanket, and warmed up by the tea he specially made for you. and although for others, the silence might seem awkward, minghao knows that this is exactly what you need to escape from the thoughts racing around in your mind.

➼ boo seungkwan

late night walks. seungkwan's energy peaks after he comes home and sees you, so walks to tire you both out becomes a staple in the routine. youre walking the streets in matching hoodies (that's because you take one of his) and even in the cold, he makes it a habit to hold your hand in his. you wander through new streets every night, discovering new neighbourhoods, having a quick snack from the convenience store, and usually stumble over a park or play area. you can feel seungkwan's eyes light up and the next thing you know, youre on the swings, side-by-side. with the little squeeze of your hand, he lets you know he's ready to go back.

➼ chwe hansol

watching a movie. to hansol, any logical being would be asleep at this hour. (un)fortunately for him, you weren't as logical as he thought. but maybe he enjoys it because why else would he allow you to keep him awake at this ungodly hour, watching 'Tangled' for the twentieth time now? all frowns erase the moment he sees pascal on the screen, and a smile places itself. he becomes so engrossed in the movie he doesn't even notice that you'd fallen asleep about halfway through the movie. when he does notice tho, he silently closes the laptop and places it away, before slipping back into the bed to get his precious sleep.

➼ lee chan

listening to him talk. chan loves to talk, and you love to listen to him talk. while mostly by this time you're both dead asleep, sometimes you end up in the balcony, the wind playfully ruffling his hair as he goes on and on about something he's so so passionate about. it could be the most trivial things, but the way his eyes go wide as he's expressing his emotions and the way they catch the moonlight in them like little stars. you're gonna be pretty tired the next morning, but when chan's with you, you couldn't care less.

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ssweetreveries · 3 months ago

Text

no longer | j.jh

🎧 slow down . chase atlantic

✩ jaehyun x reader

⋆ 18+ mdni!

⋆ word count! 2.4k

oneshot, nonidol!jaehyun, afab!reader, roommate!jaehyun, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, unprotected sex, brief breast play, dirty talk, fingering, lots of kissing, creampie, jaehyun’s a bit possessive, use of pet names (baby), porn w/ little plot…

synopsis . your boyfriend did you dirty and upon learning it your roommate can no longer hold back his desires for you.

likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!!

author note: finally got to writing this! tbh, idk how i feel about it.. hopefully you like it!

i apologize if there is any mistakes, this isn’t proof read and english isn’t my first language. enjoy!! ><

Jaehyun's head shoots up from the kitchen when he hears the door of the apartment slam shut. You left about an hour ago, telling him you were going to a party and probably not coming home for the night. So what were you doing here?

"(Y/N?)" he calls out, as he walks towards the door.

You just give him a hum in answer as you take off your heels.

When Jaehyun comes to face with you, he feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of you in that dress. His dark eyes quickly fleeting over your features, forcing himself to look away from your curves as he reminds himself of your boyfriend. He can't help but feel a flicker of anger at the thought of him. Your boyfriend was clearly a douche, Jaehyun knows he could do so much better. He clears his throat before speaking up. "You're back early?"

"You look.. good by the way," he says, his voice dropping lower, "really good."

You feel your cheek heat up at his comment, but it's quickly replaced with frustration as you remember the reason you're back.

You were supposed to meet with your boyfriend at the party, with plans of getting laid by the end of the night. You really needed that after surviving the stressful week of finals. Seems your boyfriend also did, since you found him some room, balls deep in a random girl you don't even know the name of.

Honestly, you weren't even sad, you only dated the guy for a few months. You were mostly angry at his audacity. He practically begged you to be with him and you had to convince yourself that he was cute, just for him to pull shit like this.

"Yeah, well, the night didn't go as planned, okay?" you say, tone harsher than you intended it to be.

Jaehyun raises a brow, a bit confused. "Why? Sum' happened?"

You let out an exasperated sigh as you drop your other heel to the ground, "Let's just say I didn't expect to be single by the end of the night."

Jaehyun opens his mouth, but you offer him the explanation before he can ask. "Caught him cheating."

Jaehyun's brow furrow in anger, "Fuck, I'm sorry." He says, but he's not really sorry, that guy didn't deserve you anyways.

You wave him off and shake your head as you make your way into your shared apartment. "It doesn't matter, wasn't like I was in love with him anyways, just pissed." You rant to him, always having been comfortable with your roommate.

"Pissed?" he asks, "Not even sad?"

You shrug as you grab yourself a glass of water, "Mmh, pissed. Was expecting to at least get some dick tonight. Guess it's better like this though, fucker can't even please a woman properly."

Jaehyun's eyes darken briefly at your words. He doesn't answer, lost into his thoughts about the many ways how he could please you. And he would—but no matter how many hints he seemed to drop over the years, you never seemed to catch them, and if you did, you didn't acknowledge them.

You set the glass down on the counter, the silence getting loud. Were you too blunt? You lift your head to meet his eyes, only to find him already looking back at you, eyes dark. "Jae?"

He closes his eyes and forces himself to focus on the conversation at hand, "So you wanted to get fucked, that didn't happen, and now you're mad." He states.

When he puts it like that... "Yeah, basically." You reply.

Jaehyun swallows dryly. Fuck it, he thinks. "D'you still wanna get fucked?" he says, his deep voice thick with an emotion you can't name.

He asks it so casually, you almost choke on your own spit. I mean, there's no way your hot roommate of two years was really suggesting that, right? "What- what do you mean by that..?"

"I'm asking you," he starts, "Do you want to get fucked tonight, or not." His hands twitch at his sides, itching to touch you. The way you're looking at him—with those same eyes he'd fallen for years ago—it's making it all to hard to control himself.

"I- uh," you're too flustered by his sudden straightforwardness to say anything. Jaehyun was always a gentleman, always kind and respectful the two whole years you've been living together. Hearing something of the such coming out of his mouth, it does more to you than you'd like to admit.

This whole time, you forced yourself to bury any feelings you might feel for him. He was hot, too hot for you, and way out of your league. Or so you thought. Not to forget the fact that he was your roommate.. Yeah, you didn't want to make things awkward, but the way he was looking at you right now...

He takes a step closer to you, never breaking eye contact. "Two years," he starts.

"Two years of pretending you don't affect me the way you do. Two years of holding myself back from doing something I'd regret. Two whole years of loving you while you keep going back to those shitty guys, Y/N."

When he's finally done, his jaw tenses, fighting the urge to pull you against his chest.

You're left speechless, his words too much to take in all at once.

He takes another step closer, body almost pressing against yours as he leans in near your ear. His breath comes out ragged against your neck as he whispers, "Tell me to stop, or I won't be able to."

Your breath hitches, and you don't answer. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see where this would go. "Don't.." you whisper back.

Those whispered words seem to shatter whatever restraint he had left. His hands coming to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, closing the distance between you.

"Say it again," his grip on your waist tightens as he speaks, his body tense against yours with years of pent-up longing.

"Don't stop.." You whisper more clearly this time.

When he pulls back slightly to look at your face, his dark eyes are filled with emotion—desire, jealousy, and something more?

The feeling of your body pressed against his after countless nights dreaming about this, it's too much.

"Fuck.." he rasps, voice breaking slightly as he lets his head fall against your shoulder.

His hands roam over your back, taking in your curves through the fabric of your dress.

"Not one day goes by I don't think of having you." he confesses, "Not one fucking day."

His eyes are burning with intensity as they flick between your eyes and lips. The way you're looking up at him.. it's driving him wild.

"Gonna make up for all that time now," he murmurs, hovering just above your lips. "Can I?"

You nod frantically, desperate to feel his lips on yours.

His lips crash down on yours in a searing kiss, pouring his years of longing into it. You kiss him back, loving the way his lips move against yours.

Jaehyun pulls back briefly, his breath warm on your lips, "I don't think I'll be able to stop now," he whispers.

You answer by pressing your lips against his once more. He kisses you back—this time deeper, hungrier. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip before tangling with yours in a messy kiss.

His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against the hardness of his arousal.

When you finally break apart, he presses his forehead against yours, "You're mine," he whispers. "Starting tonight"

His mouth crashes down on yours and without warning he lifts you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively coming to wrap around his waist as he carries you towards his bedroom.

The soft press of your lips against his make his breath hitch. For a moment he just savours the sweetness of it—the way your mouth molds perfectly to his, like you were made to fit together. One of his hands come up to cradle your face as he carries you, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he depends the kiss slowly.

His fingers tangle gently in your hair, tilting your head just enough to take the kiss deeper. His tongue slides against yours in a slow, sensual dance, savouring every taste, every sigh you give him. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is a bit uneven, dark eyes hooded with desire.

His foot kicks his bedroom door open, and he wastes no time dropping you on the bed. The second your back hits the mattress, he’s on you again—lips pressing against yours in a kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hands works to rid of your clothes, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “I need this off,” he rasps out, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

You lift up a bit, allowing him to remove the article.

His touch is desperate—hot palms skimming up your bare thighs, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you against him. The hard length of his arousal pressing against your core through the thin fabric separating you.

“Gonna ruin anyone else for you” he promises lowly, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Make sure you never forget this night.”

“I won’t” you assure him, voice coming out weaker than intended.

His hands slide up your sides, calloused fingers tracing the soft skin of your stomach before moving higher—finally, finally—cupping your breasts with a small groan as his thumbs brush over your already hardened nipples.

His mouth follows his hands, mouth sealing around one perked nipple, licking and sucking hard enough to make you arch off the bed. His free hand slides down your legs, fingers pressing against your clothed heat.

He lets out a shaky breath, “Already wet for me.” he comments, voice thick with satisfaction.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs with a single rough pull. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you before him—spread out beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Perfect,” he whispers, stripping off his own shirt in one swift motion, his toned torso on full display. “Fucking perfect.”

He climbs back over you, his lips finding yours again in a deep, filthy kiss as his hand slides between your thighs, fingers teasing your slick folds.

“Gonna make you feel good,” he promises against your mouth, two fingers sliding inside your tight walls without warning, curling just right.

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers pump in and out, his dark eyes locked onto yours—watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“Say your mine” he whispers, voice tinged with something you can’t exactly pinpoint, “Even if it’s just for tonight, say you’re mine”

A choked moan escapes you as your voice comes out whiny, “Y-yours,”

“Fuck—” his voice is wrecked, his cock throbbing painfully against his pants as he continues pumping you full of his fingers.

His fingers press deeper inside you, thumb pressing against your clit in tight circles. His lips crash down on yours, swallowing your whimpers as he drinks in every shudder, every twitch of your body beneath him.

His hips grind down against your thigh, letting you feel just how hard he is for you.

He spreads your legs wider apart, settling himself between them with a groan. His fingers withdraw, glistening with your arousal, and he gives your pussy a light tap before bringing them up to his lips with a satisfied smirk.

“Taste fucking perfect,” he growls, licking them clean before freeing himself, gripping his cock and giving it a slow, tortuous stroke.

Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until you’re on your knees. Any self restraint he had left is gone, one hand coming up to grip the back of your neck, pressing your face in the mattress as his other guides his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna fuck you so deep,” he starts. “You’ll feel me for days.”

And then he’s pushing in—one brutal, unforgiving thrust—burying himself to the hilt in one go and you have to hold back a scream at the sheer size of his length. A ragged groan tears from his throat as your tight heat envelope him, tight walls fluttering around him like you were made just for him.

“Fuck—” his hips snap forwards, setting a punishing pace from the start. “So—” Another hard thrust. One of his hands coming to tangle in your hair, “Fucking—” His grip on your hair tightens, “Perfect.”

His free hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing rough circles as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity.

“Come on my cock,” he groans, “Let me feel you squeeze me as you come undone—”

His thrusts grow erratic, his own breathing ragged as he chases his own release—but he won’t let himself go until you do. Not after waiting for so long to have you.

“That’s it—” He chokes out, feeling your walls start to flutter around him. “Come for me, baby”

And you do, coming with a muffled scream in the pillows, knuckles turning white from how tight you’re gripping the sheets.

The sight of you unravelling beneath him—your body trembling, your fingers clawing at the sheets—sends a surge of raw, possessive pride through him. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you still as he fucks you through it, his thrusts unrelenting even as you shudder around him.

His fingers dig in the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you wider as he drives into you, harder, deeper. The wet, filthy sounds of your bodies joining fill the room, mixing with your breathless whimpers and his ragged groans.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as his lips find the shell of your ear.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, “Can I, baby—?” his voice cracks as his hips start to stutter, his control slipping.

You whine and nod against the pillows, and that’s all it takes for Jaehyun to reach his peak.

With a final, punishing thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills into you, his body shuttering with the force of it.

He collapses over you, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he struggles to catch his breath. His fingers trace lazy patterns over your hip, his voice rough but satisfied.

“Mine…” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the sweat-slick skin of your back.

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sunasilhouette · 3 months ago

Text

「a timely bet」 - s.rintarou x f!reader

✧summary:

suna pisses you off during exam season and it was only right for you to get back at him… except it backfires terribly.

or… can suna last a week without sex.

✧wc: 2.2k (part 1) | part 2

✧au: college!au, established relationship, second year!suna, second year!reader,

✧tags: explicit smut, minors dni, bratty!reader, experienced!reader, sadist!suna, dom!suna,

warnings under cut

✧warnings: fingering (f.), teasing, degradation, dirty talk, edging, voyeurism, dubcon, suna is down BAD…

deadline season: undoubtedly the worst time of the academic year. and, just like any other student, you were squinting at that laptop screen hoping the essay would write itself. after spending a little too much time doing ungodly things in bed with suna this morning, you forced yourself to the library.

suna stuck to you like a bug, of course. he behaved for a decent amount of time as he scrolled through his phone, bored out of his mind even with the music playing through his headphones keeping him company.

he rested his cheek on the desk, gaze lingering on the delicate furrow between your brows as you typed away. suna waited for your attention before speaking, his voice low and teasing.

“you know, you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, princess,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he reached to brush strands of hair behind your ear. his touch was light and gentle, always a stark contrast from his usual annoying, cocky demeanor.

your side-eye turned into an eye roll. “ah, really? didn’t know,” you said, blankly and uninterested, purposefully ignoring him in an attempt to concentrate.

suna let out a quiet chuckle — he really did love when you rolled your eyes at him. but, he knew you well enough by now to recognise your tells. you need a break. plus, he wouldn’t be suna if he didn’t tease you daily. and, he kept his hands to himself for a good couple hours now.

wordlessly, he sat upright, moving his chair close enough for his leg to touch yours and placed one mischievous hand on your thigh. the sudden contact broke your concentration, making you pause. you instantly shot him a warning look but he just grinned back, his pinky skimming just under the edge of your skirt with deliberate intent. “what’s the matter? can’t focus with a little distraction?” he murmured, voice low and husky, laced with amusement.

“we’re in the library…!” you whispered back as a matter of fact-ly, nudging his leg with your own but his hand was persistent.

this time, he leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered with a wicked grin, “no one’s here, princess. and besides, it’s nothing we haven’t done before.” suna’s hand inched higher up your thigh. “a little break won’t hurt.”

you could feel your skin flushing at his crude words, almost hating how much you actually liked the way he talked. and, he wasn’t wrong either. that tiny break out room on the 4th floor of the library had probably seen better days. your memory of it was still stupidly vivid.

the way your thighs slightly parted didn’t go unnoticed by suna and he huffs out a quiet chuckle in victory. he gives a playful squeeze to your bare thigh before lifting it over his own leg, spreading your sweet legs further under that desk.

he leans in closer, practically leaning on your shoulder and nuzzling the nape of your neck as his long fingers swirled tiny figures of eight closer and closer to the source of all of his desires and needs. “don’t worry, it’ll be quick,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your skin.

you could feel another wider smirk as he pushed your underwear aside, feeling the wetness already soaked through, spreading it all around your clit and teasing entry with one- no, two fingers. the essay was momentarily forgotten about even with the white word document lighting their faces.

with that, suna’s left hand pushed your cheek towards him, pressing his lips to yours in a gentler, sensual kiss. you were doing well making no noise— until he dove in and curled his fingers just the way you liked. you whimpered against his goddamn grinning lips.

his ministrations were continuous, moving in and out with practised ease. after half a year of hearing you whimper and moan almost nightly, he knew exactly how to touch you and make you whine and writhe. with a little nibble on your bottom lip, he added a third finger, curling at that sweet spot once more, making you gasp as his left hand moved to cup your mouth, silencing you.

“that’s it, princess,” suna whispered, kissing your neck and nibbling the shell of your ear. “gonna cum already?” he asked in that annoying almost patronising tone of his, mentally cursing him out. you bit suna’s palm in revenge, making him flinch but he just pressed down harder on your mouth. closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the mounting pleasure rather on the obscene sound of his fingers and your wetness, praying desperately that no one could hear.

his thumb drew circles around that sensitive nub as your walls began to clench, fast tracking you to the edge of release. and with a final flick of his wrist, he sent you over the edge, your legs shaking as you came with a stifled moan.

fingers still buried inside you, he let you ride out the orgasm before slowly removing them, bringing them to his lips. suna cleaned himself up savouring the salty sweet taste of you before grabbing the tissues in his bag and wiped you clean. “now you can focus,” he mused with a satisfied grin at pleasing his favourite girl.

you huffed and puffed, clutching the edge of the table to ground yourself but, still, that hot feeling remained. god — you needed more. “rin… let’s go to that bathroom.”

the bastard shrugged and leaned back on his chair saying, “sorry, no can do. as much as i’d love to bend you over and fuck your brains out, you’ve got work to submit.” he knew that if he obliged you, that essay was definitely not getting finished. so, for your sake, he wasn’t planning on touching you until that deadline was finished. what a great boyfriend.

the deadly expression you gave him made him pause and lean over to plant a kiss on your cheek, a hand coming up to pat your hair gently. “don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you later,” he promised, slotting his headphones back on to scroll through his phone.

giving him a once over, you realised his refusal was serious. and, you were beyond pissed off. fine. if he was going to play like this, then you were going to make suna’s finals week literal hell. you deadline warrior your essay, furiously typing in some kind of frustrated, horny-induced rage all to reach that word count and one final fuck before his exam week.

you submitted your essay, making sure suna heard the thud of your laptop. the look you gave him was more than obvious and the two of you drove back to your apartment. suna keeps his promise of ‘making it up to you’—more than a few times. but, the damage was already done and you already had a devious plan in the making. you were planning on depriving him of absolutely everything.

the next morning, suna leaves early to go back to his place after making a quick breakfast for you and dipping. that was all fine for you since his finals week officially started today. thinking about it, how much did you actually know about rin apart from the obvious. you didn’t even know what he majored in. sure, he plays for the volleyball team but you didn’t strike suna to be the type to major in sports science… well, either way, you had a chill day in celebration for finishing your final deadline.

it was peaceful until none other than suna came knocking on your door later that night after training. opening the door with a hand on your hip, you greeted him with a raised brow. “isn’t it deadline and exam week?”

he grinned as he always did whenever he sees that teasing expression on your face. suna leaned against the door frame, sharp eyes roaming your figure up and down. “‘s fine i did most of it today,” he replied with a shrug. “and, I’m not too worried about exams. besides, I need to see your pretty face once a day else I keel over and die.” he stepped forward in his dramaticized description of his fake condition, wrapping his big hands around your waist and pulling you in. “how was your day?” he asked as he leaned in for a kiss.

you let him pull you closer as the door shut behind him. unluckily for suna, you pulled back, and placed a finger on his lips, dodging his kiss. with a pleased grin, you replied, “delightfully peaceful, actually. especially since I didn’t have to babysit a clingy fox all day.”

suna’s eyes sparkled with amusement, chuckling at your review of your day. “I’m not clingy. I just know what I want,” he protested playfully. he leaned in to try and kiss you again but you leaned further back, finger still stopping his advance.

this time, he raised a brow in question almost looking like a fox denied treats, “depriving me of kisses now? what did I do to deserve that, hm?”

your fake sympathetic pout curled up into a mischievous grin, “actually, I think you deserve a lot of things but kisses aren’t any of them.” you tapped rin’s nose, turning around to walk away but suna caught your wrist, a playful glint in his eyes as he pulled you back to wrap his arms around you from behind.

”now you’ve got me curious,” he murmured into your ear, “what do I deserve then?” he nuzzled your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. “don’t keep me waiting too long,” he added with a chuckle.

“you deserve an unbothered exam week where you focus on your studies~,” you pinched the skin at his wrist, making him let go. “so, no sex from me until you finish your last exam - just like you did to me,” you sat down comfortably on the couch, crossing your legs in victory.

suna’s eyes widened at your declaration and looked with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “no sex,” he repeated. “for the whole week? that sounds like an attack on my human rights.” the fox sat down next to you on the couch, leaning back against the armrest and crossing his arms over his chest.

with a raise of your brow at his drama, you finished with, “if you can’t handle it then I guess you’ll just have to give up your ‘human rights’ for a day of my choosing. and, by that I mean listening to any and all requests - no questions asked.”

suna raised a brow and pondered for a moment, cupping his chin before smirking, “a day of being yours to use doesn’t sound all that bad.” he leaned in closer, lowering his voice and cupping her cheek to face him, “but, just so we’re clear,” he murmured, “if I can resist temptation before my final exam, then you’ll have to put up with my commands for a day. deal?” he jokingly held out his hand for you to shake, the same sly smile on his lips.

you glanced down at his open palm and then back up to his grayish eyes, moving your hand to meet his. instead of shaking his hand, your fingers slid up the palm of his hand, up his arm, tracing his veins, teasing him all the way up until you cupped his face. “don’t you wanna lay down some ground rules before you agree to a losing bet?”

a familiar heat built in his groin as suna shuddered at the feel of your hands on his skin. he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sensation before opening them again to meet your gaze. “ground rules? this bet’s pretty simple.” suna reached up to take your hand from his face, bringing it to his lips and peppering kisses on each finger before releasing them. “but, if you want to add some, then I’m all ears.”

“so…. I can do whatever I want?” you trace down his chest this time, feeling the toned mounds and ridges of his torso. suna’s breath hitches as you just barely teased your fingers from moving under his shirt. “I won’t bother you too much when you’re studying, since… let’s be honest, you probably won’t be able to resist at all,” you taunted, fully confident you had suna wrapped around your finger.

he watched your movements intently, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "whatever you want?" he repeated. "that could be dangerous territory for me,” suna leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "but it wouldn't hurt to indulge you a little. you’ll be surprised by the amount of self restraint I actually have, princess.”

he ran his hands up your sides, tracing over the curves of your hips and waist. suna’s fingers found their way under the hem of your shirt, brushing against bare skin as he leaned in close to whisper into your ear, “but, feel free to try.”

you let out a chuckle, “you talk big for a man who can’t keep his hands off me.” leaning in, you planted the tiniest peck on his cheek as you moved to straddle his lap, already feeling that familiar tent in his joggers. “alright then, since you’re indulging me, my lips are off limits too. deal?”

suna let in a sharp inhale, feeling the heat between your thighs and the pressure of your weight against him, “no kissing?” he repeated with a smirk. “you’ve just made things harder for me.” he presses a kiss just below your earlobe before pulling back slightly, “deal.”

a/n: next part… a few snippets of the days of the bet and who actually ends up winning. sorry this didn’t have that much smut - the next part will have all of it. thnx for ur patience !!

part 1 (you are here) | part 2

#suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader smut #suna smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #suna x reader smut #i like writing suna down bad guys <3 #sunasilhouette

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masoncantthinkofaname · 3 months ago

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I will be back

Hello to all beautiful souls on Tumblr. Some of you may have seen my recent post on TikTok.

My husband and I have come to a decision.

We are going to shift, and restart.

Not because of anything bad that happened. We are very happy with where we are at in our lives. We have had the honour of raising a bunch of amazing kids, explore beautiful places.

But in the end, both he and I are shaped by our pasts and, 'original' realities a lot.

My husband doesn't know any different than having the responsibility and pressure of taking care of a lot of people. And although he loves it, we believe he would profit from getting to find himself without a million eyes on him for once. We don't doubt he'll still choose lives like this in the future, but we want it to stem out of desire, and not because it feels 'normal.'

As for me, my wellbeing and life in this reality have affected me a lot. I don't hate this place, but it has come with a lot of trauma, and I don't like viewing it as my starting point. I think the version of myself that I embody in this reality represents my true self the least.

We have decided to shift somewhere we truly are the person we are meant to be deep down. A reality where we can meet again for the first time, but physically. Where he doesn't have to come looking for me, and I don't have to go through a whole roller-coaster to actually be with him. We will wipe our memories, and live our lives there.

After a while, we'll remember our memories of shifting and other realities. At that point, however, that reality will be our home and original starting point, and any other place, including this one, will be a dr, that we might choose to come back to at some point.

We have infinite lives, infinite places to explore, and for now this feels like the right thing to do for us.

We don't know exactly when we are going to shift there yet, but probably within the next week or two. I will come back here, likely after a lot of time has passed for us, but for the people here it won't be long at all. And I assume I will continue posting advice, and have new stories to tell.

I don't know how much I might change by the time I come back, or how much time will have passed for me. My views on some things might be different, which is primarily why I'm writing this post.

The version of me in this reality also has to focus on his health a little, so my responses to asks or dms will probably be slow for a week or so. I will be back, and it won't be long for you people. But knowing personally I'll forget about all this for probably a few decades or more, I felt like writing some type of goodbye or gratitude. Not because I'm not coming back, but because I'm leaving a version of myself behind that I have outgrown.

I'll see you all! 💚

(Take this picture I took in honour of my drselves)

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting #shifting stories #shifting realities #shifting community #shifting blog #shifting motivation

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 11 months ago

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The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors.

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rawme-price · 11 days ago

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Someone asked abt the broken wrist comment on my 141!reader post so....here's the context lol (fair warning I dont write seriously and I dont care abt grammar. Severe injury, but everything's been discussed and consented to beforehand <3)

Nights like these are usually saved for special occasions. Either u or one of the other guys just cant seem to settle down no matter how much you work out or spar. Sure it takes the itch off for a moment, but then ur right back to restlessness.

Which ofc leads to ur favourite activity with the 141, a small hunting game. The woods work just fine, but gaz recently found an abandoned concrete building that may have been a mall at one point (dont question it), so you guys decide to play there. Color coded blankets and pillows mark out each of ur bases, and in the car ride over ghost is giving you a particularly hungry look.

You may or may not have been teasing him all week. Besides, you know that price is definitely doing after soap as payback for the sargeant edging him last time, and ur pretty sure price has got an alliance going with gaz.

Which means all of ghosts focus will be on you. A smirk tugging at your lips, you plan exactly how you'll have ghost once you capture him.

You've chosen a pretty nice place as ur base, in what was probably the good court. Open space, but dim and comfy enough for when u get ghost in there. then the hunt begins, and all of that 141 training kicks in.

Equipped with some handcuffs, a knife, and a flashlight the same as all the others, you sneak through the mall. Ghost tends to have the advantage in these situations, but you also know Ghost, which means u pay extra attention to the deep shadows and the small alcoves.

As expected, you spot the glint of a knife a few paces ahead, blood thrumming in ur veins as u approach. It takes work, and a brutal scuffle that has ur head ringing, but eventually u get ghost pinned in a headlock.

"Can't wait to edge you until youre crying, si." You murmer huskily, reaching to chain his wrists together. As ur hauling ghost back to ur base, you listen mildly to the echoed sobs coming from a bit aways. Seems like price found soap, then.

Ur so caught up in listening to soaps whines that u dont think about how little ghost is resisting until its too late. Between one breath and the next ur suddenly on the floor with ghosts hands wrapped around ur throat. You punch his kidney, roll away, but hes quick to get right back on you.

In fact, it seems that ghost is so eager that he plans to fuck you right there, not bothering to take u to his base. This, of course, means u have all the rights to fight back according to the rules. You play along, let him think ur giving up. Just when ghost is pressing into u, ur fist connects with his jaw. Ghost makes a startled sound of pain, followed by a sharp growl.

Ghost manhandles u, presses against those broken bones anytime u get a bit too feisty, fucks u until ur nearly passed out. Its brutal, it's painful, its heaven.

You try to use that distraction to reach ur knife, but he grabs ur arms and bodily slams you into the floor again. A sick *crack* echoes, and blinding paint flair up ur left arm, but his body is so hot and heavy above u that u dont care.

Uh anyways price chews simon tf out once yall regroup, ur wrist feeling much more painful than pleasurable. U look the doctors in the eyes and lie through ur teeth "yeah, took a nasty tumble while training. Tried to catch myself like a dumbass, real embarrassing." But its fine bc ghost gives u apology head afterwards <33

#cod #cod smut #simon ghost riley #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut

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ruhua-langblr · 7 months ago

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Language Apps Suck, Now What?: A Guide to Actually Becoming "Fluent"

The much requested sequel to my DL post that was promised almost a year ago.

I'm going to address all of the techniques that have helped me in my language learning journeys. Since 95% of these came from the fact that in a past language learning mistake, they are titled as my mistakes (and how I would/did things differently going forward). For those that read to the bottom there is a "best universal resources" list.

Disclaimers:

"Fluency" is hard to define and everyone has their own goals. So for the purpose of this post, "fluency" will be defined as "your personal mastery target of the language".

If you just want to pick up a bit of a language to not sound like a total foreigner on vacation or just exchange a few words in a friend's native language, feel free to ignore what doesn't apply, but maybe something here could help make it a little easier.

This is based on my own personal experience and (some) research.

Mistake 1: Asymmetrical Studying

Assuming you don't just want to do a single activity in a language, or are learning a language like ASL, a language requires 4 parts to be studied: Speaking, Listening, Writing, Reading. While these have overlap, you can't learn speaking from reading, or even learn speaking from just listening. One of my first Chinese teachers told me how he would listen to the textbook dialogues while he was biking to classes and it helped him. I took this information, thought "Yeah that's an idea, but sounds boring" and now regret not taking his advice nearly every day.

I think a lot of us find methods we enjoy to study (mine was reading) and assume that if we just do that method more ™ it will eventually help us in other areas (sometimes it does, but that's only sometimes). Find a method that works for you for each area of study, even better find more than one method since we use these skills in a variety of manners! I can understand a TV program pretty well since I have a lot of context clues and body language to fill in any gaps of understanding, but taking a phone call is much harder—the audio is rougher, there's no body language to read, and since most Chinese programs have hard coded subtitles, no subtitles to fall back on either. If I were to compare the number of hours I spent reading in Chinese to (actively) training my listening? Probably a ratio of 100 to 1. When I started to learn Korean, the first thing I did was find a variety of listening resources for my level.

Fix: Find a variety of study methods that challenge all aspects of the language in different ways.

A variety of methods will help you develop a more well-rounded level of mastery, and probably help you keep from getting bored. Which is important because...

Mistake 2: Inconsistent Studying

If there is one positive to a language app, it is the pressure it puts on keeping a streak. Making studying a part of your everyday routine is the best thing you can do. I benefited a lot from taking a college language course since I had a dedicated time to study and practice Chinese 5 days out of the week (and homework usually filled the other two). Memorization is a huge part of language learning, and stopping and starting is terrible for memorization. When I was in elementary school, we had Spanish maybe a couple times a month. Looking back, it seems like it was the first class to be cut if we needed to catch up on a more important course. Needless to say, I can't even speak Spanish at an elementary level.

However, I'm sure many people reading this don't have the time to do ultra-immersion 4-hour study sessions every day either. Find what days during the week you have time to focus on learning new vocab and grammar, and use the rest of the week to review. This can be done on your commute to school/work, while you do the dishes, or as a part of your morning/evening routine. Making this as realistic as possible will help you actually succeed in making this a habit. (Check this out for how to set realistic study goals)

Fix: Study regularly (ideally daily) by setting realistic goals. Avoid "binge" studying since remembering requires consistent repetition to be most effective.

Mistake 3: Resource Choice

This is really composed of two mistakes, but I have a good example that will cover them both.

First, finding resources that are at or slightly above your level is the most important thing. Easy resources will not challenge you enough and difficult resources will overwhelm you. The ideal is n+1, with n as what you know plus 1 new thing.

Second, getting distracted by fancy, new technology. Newer isn't always better, and there are often advantages that are lost when we've made technological developments. I often found myself wanting to try out new browser extensions or organizational methods and honestly I would've benefitted from just using that time to study. (Also, you're probably reading this because of my DL post so I don't think it has to be said that AI resources suck.)

A good example of this was my time using Clozemaster. I had actually recommended it when I first started using it since I thought the foundation was really solid. However, after long term use, I found that it just wasn't a good fit. The sentences were often too simple or too long and strange for memorization at higher levels or were too difficult at lower levels. I think that taking my textbook's example sentences from dialogues into something like Anki would've been a far better use of my time (and money) as they were already designed to be at that n+1 level.

Fix: "Vet" your resources—make sure they will actually help you. If something is working for you, then keep using it! You don't always have to upgrade to the newest tool/method.

Mistake 3.5: Classrooms and Textbooks

A .5 since it's not my mistake, but an addendum of caution. I think there is a significant part of the language learning community that views textbooks and classroom learning as the worst possible resource. They are "boring", "outdated", and "ineffective" (ironically one of the most interesting modern language learning methods, ALG, is only done in a classroom setting). Classrooms and textbooks bring back memories of being surrounded by mostly uninterested classmates, minimal priority, and a focus on grades rather than personal achievement (imagine the difference between a class of middle schoolers who were forced to choose a foreign language vs. adult learners who self-selected!) People have used these exact methods, or even "cruder" methods, to successfully learn a language. It all comes down to what works best for you. I specifically recommend textbooks for learning grammar and the plentiful number of dialogues and written passages that can function great as graded readers and listening resources. (Also the distinction made between "a youtube lesson on a grammatical principle" which is totally cool, and "a passage in a grammar textbook" is more one of tone and audio/written than efficacy).

Classrooms can be really great for speaking practice since they can be a lot less intimidating speaking to someone who is also learning while receiving corrections. Speech can be awkward to train on your own (not impossible if you're good at just talking aloud to yourself!), and classrooms can work nicely for this. Homework and class schedules also have built in accountability!

Fix: Explore resources available to you and try to think holistically about your approach. CI+Traditional Methods is my go to "Learning Cocktail"

Mistake 4: Yes, Immersion, But...

I realized this relatively quickly while learning Chinese, but immersion at a level much higher than your current level will do very little for you. What is sometimes left out of those "Just watch anime to learn Japanese" discussions is that you first need to have a chance at understanding what is being said. Choosing materials that are much higher than your level will not teach you the language. It doesn't matter how many times someone at HSK 1 hears “他是甘露之惠，我并无此水可还”, they will not get very far. Actual deduction and learning comes from having enough familiar components to be able to make deductions—something different than guessing. An HSK 1 learner, never having heard the word 老虎 will be able to understand "tiger" if someone says “这是我的老虎” while standing next to a tiger. This is not to say you can never try something more difficult—things should be challenging—but if you can't make heads or tails of what's being said, then it's time to find something a bit easier. If mistake 2 is about the type of method, this is about the level. If you wouldn't give a kindergartener The Great Gatsby to learn how to read, why would you watch Full Metal Alchemist to start learning a language?

Side note: Interesting video here on the Comprehensible Input hypothesis and how it relates to neurodivergence.

Fix: Immerse yourself in appropriate content for your level. It's called comprehensible input for a reason.

Mistake 5: On Translation

I work as a translator, so do you really think I'm going to say translation is all bad? Of course not. It's a separate skill that can be added on to the basic skills, but is really only required if you are A. someone who is an intermediary between two languages (say you have to translate for a spouse or family member) or B. It is your job/hobby. In the context of sitting down and learning, it can be harmful. I think my brain often goes to translation too often because that's how I used to learn. Trying to unlearn that is difficult because, well, what do people even mean when they say "don't translate"? They mean when someone says "thank you", you should not go to your primary language and translate "you're welcome" from that. You should train yourself to go to your target language first when you hear the word for "thank you". A very literally translated "thank you" in Chinese "谢谢你" can come off as cold and sarcastic. I don't tell my friends that, I say "谢啦～". Direct translation can take away the difference in culture, grammar, and politeness in a language. If there is a reason you sound awkward while writing and speaking, it's probably because you're imposing your primary language on your target language.

Fix: Try as hard as you can to not work from your primary language into the target language, but to work from the structures, set phrases, and grammar within the target language that you know first.

Mistake 6: The Secret Language Learners Don't Want You To Know...

...is that there is no one easy method. You are not going to learn French while you sleep, or master Korean by doing this one easy trick. Learning a language requires work and dedication, the people that succeed are those that push through the boredom of repetition and failure. The "I learned X in 1 year/month/week/day!" crowd is hiding large asterisks, be it their actual level, the assistance and free time available to them, "well actually I had already studied this for 4 years", or just straight-up lying. Our own journeys in our native tongue were not easy, they required years and years of constant immersion and instruction. While we are now older and wiser people that can make quick connections, we are also burdened with things like "jobs", "house work", "school work", and the digital black hole that is "social media" that take up our time and energy. Everything above is to help make this journey a little bit easier, quicker, and painless, but it will never be magic.

I find that language learning has a lot in common with the fitness community. People will talk about the workout that changed their life and how no other one will do the same—and it really can be the truth that it changed their life and that they feel it is the ultimate way. The real workout that will change your life is the one you're most consistent with, that you enjoy the most. Language learning is just trying to find the brain exercise that you can be the most consistent with.

Fix: Save your energy looking for shortcuts, and do the work, fail, and come back for more. If someone tells you that you can become fluent in a ridiculously short amount of time, they are selling you a fantasy (and likely a product). You get out what you put in.

For those that made it to the end, here are some of my "universal resources":

Refold Method: I don't agree with their actual method 100%, but they've collected a lot of great resources for learning languages. I've found their Chinese and Korean discords to also be really helpful and provided even more resources than what's given in their starter guides.

Language Reactor: Very useful, and have recently added podcasts as a material! The free version is honestly all you need.

Anki: If I do not mention it, the people with 4+ year streaks with a 5K word deck will not let me forget it. It can be used on desktop or on your phone as an app. If you need a replacement for a language learning app, this is one of them. Justin Sung has a lot of great info on how to best utilize Anki (as does Refold). It's not my favorite, but it could be yours!

LingQ: "But I thought you said language apps are bad!" In isolation, yes. Sorry for the clickbait. This one is pretty good, and more interested in immersing you in the language than selling a subscription to allow you to freeze your streak so the number goes up.

Grammar Textbooks: For self-taught learning, these are going to be the best resource since it's focused on the hardest part of the language, and only that. If you're tired of seeing group work activities, look for a textbook that is just on grammar (Modern Mandarin Chinese Grammar is my rec for Chinese, and A Guide to Japanese Grammar by Tae Kim is the most common/enthusiastic rec I've heard for Japanese).

Shadowing: Simply repeat what you hear. Matt vs Japan talks about his setup here for optimized shadowing (which you can probably build for a lot cheaper now), but it can also just be you watching a video and pausing to repeat after each sentence or near simultaneously if you're able.

Youtube: Be it "Short Story for Beginners", "How to use X", "250 Essential Phrases", or a GRWM in your target language, Youtube is the best. Sometimes you have to dig to find what works for you, but I imagine there is something for everyone at every level. (Pro tip: People upload textbook audio dialogues often, you don't even have to buy the textbook to be able to learn from it!)

A Friend: Be it a fellow learner, or someone who has already mastered the language, it is easier when you have someone, not only to speak to, but to remind you why you're doing this. I write far more in Chinese because I have friends I can text in Chinese.

Pen and Paper: Study after study, writing on paper continues to be the best method for memorization. Typing or using a pen and tablet still can't compare to traditional methods.

The Replies (Probably): Lots of people were happy to give alternatives for specific languages in the replies of my DL post. The community here is pretty active, so if this post blows up at least 20% of what the last one did, you might be able to find some great stuff in the replies and reblogs.

I wish you all the best~

#langblr #mandarinblr #language learning #resource #dare i put this in the duolingo tag lmao

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