#this is just one little thing in the fucked time that we are living

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / masterlist

Your hand is shaking again.

It’s a defense mechanism or something, you think. Some physical manifestation of your anxiety. Something psychological, you’re sure of it.

It’s the only thing you’re sure of, if you’re being honest.

You stalk home as fast as you can, scowl affixed to your face like it’s been cemented there, seeping deep into your frown lines, etching them like a chisel on marble.

The walk sobers you. Brings you back to rational sense, little by little.

You shouldn’t have called them. You’re so dumb. You’re asking for trouble.

But is it so bad, to want to cause an emotional reaction? To want them to be as miserable as you?

It’s pathetic. A way to seek validation. A mistake.

One you’re sure you’re going to pay for.

Your front door is unlocked.

The door pushes open nearly on its own, and your eyes struggle to adjust in the pitch black of your hallway. No light from the street spills from the living room, which means the drapes have been drawn closed.

Your heart leaps into your ears, pounding between your temples at a frenzied pace.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s probably them.

What if it’s not? Do you have a weapon? A way to defend yourself? You find your pepper spray in your bag, readying it between trembling fingers.

“Hello?” You call.

Nothing.

“Hello… if you’re in my flat, you better-“ a firm hand grips back of your neck, like a viper assaulting its prey, and you scream.

“It’s me.” Simon murmurs into your hair, touching over your pulse. “Jus’ me.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” you twist out of his grip, fumbling for the lights.

When they flick on, you blink a few times to adjust.

He’s a sight for sore eyes in joggers, a black sweatshirt, black hat.

His eyes burn. They scald you, roving from top to toe, his mouth sealed in a scowl. “Have a nice night, sweetheart?”

You gulp. “I- I did.”

“Thought you were clever with that phone call?”

“I… I didn’t think-“

“You didn’t.” He cuts you off, and then points to living room. “Go sit on the couch.” Your hand trembles against your chest, and you hang your head.

Got the attention you wanted?

“Where’s Johnny?” You whisper as he takes the seat next to you, massive shoulders turning so he can peer downwards.

“Decided this was better to handle on my own.” Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.

“Oh.” Simon takes a deep breath, eyeing your shaking hand, and then shakes his head. You can’t read it, can’t ever read him, and you wait with breath frozen in your lungs, wait for him to say something, anything.

But what comes next, is not what you expected.

“Johnny’s in love with you.” You jerk back, eyebrows raised into your hairline.

“No.” Your voice trembles. “No, this… this is casual.”

“It is.” Simon’s lips press flat. “The girl at the hotel, she was a job. Had nothin’ to do with our… personal lives. She was a loose end to tie up when we got back. It was convenient, that she lived in our city.” Your mind tumbles and falls, your sense dives off a cliff.

Johnny’s in love with you.

“I don’t understand… you, after-“

“I let you believe it.” He says simply, looking down his nose at you. He’s never looked so cold. “At first, I wanted to explain, to correct it, for his sake, but… the opportunity was too good. So I told Johnny that you reminded me of our arrangement. That you agreed, that you always said you didn’t want a relationship. The situation at the bar with your date,” he smiles self indulgently “that was just for fun. Would’ve fucked ya right up against that door for the whole bar to see if you let us. Split that pretty pussy open on my cock and watch you gag on Johnny’s, but you still wanted to be a brat,” he rolls his eyes, “it was all a distraction I built for him.”

Alarm bells blare inside your skull, Johnny’s words from the other day when he brought the flowers repeating over and over.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.”

“No- no. He… he came here, he made it sound-“

Simon studies you. “He’s explosive, sometimes. Doesn’t handle his emotions well, gets all twisted up. I think when he came over here, he wanted you to tell him you wanted more,” he sighs, rubs his chin. “He’s so out of sorts over it all, poor boy.”

“Why? Why didn’t you… why didn’t you tell him the truth? Or me?” His lips curl into a sneer.

“Because Johnny is mine. I might share his body with you, sweet girl, but I won’t share his heart.”

#lmao #peaches writes #cool girl #ghoap x reader

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 1 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, curses, jungkook is lowkey a cocky asshole but we love him, mentions of ghosting (reader to Hoseok), mentions of frosh week, mentions of Nabi spraining her ankle, a frat party, beer pong, Sam Hwang, peach, explicit content: overhearing someone having sex, female masturbation, sex toy (vibrator), praising, nipple play, hickeys, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, degradation, Hoseok likes being called sir (lmao), whip (sorta, with a belt), choking (with a belt), safe word, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, balls fondling, jerking off, spitting in the other's mouth, Hoseok does not believe in aftercare (rip)

☆word count: 11.8k

☆a/n: CHAPTER ONE!! LET'S GET THIS JOURNEY STARTED BABY!!! thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, January 19th 

If there is one thing you’ve figured about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he is an insufferable prick, yet an endearing one. As your older brother’s best friend, Jungkook has taken a liking to teasing you, treating you like his own little sister. It was weird at first – the day you  met him, you were struck by his looks. Who wouldn’t be? Jungkook is tall, has a sleeve of tattoos, and he rocks an eyebrow and two lip piercings. 

It took you all but three days to realize that he is a too full of himself asshole. And had you known what you were signing up for when Taehyung suggested that you move in with him when his friend Jimin moved out to live with his girlfriend, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted.

You love Taehyung. He’s an incredible brother, has always taken care of you when you were younger and your mother was never home to do so. You love him enough that you didn’t mind moving in with him even though there was a third party you didn’t know.

Jungkook, that is.

It’s been months now. Months of living with Jungkook, of waking up to his insufferable smirk and even worse teasing, whenever Taehyung is not around. Because, of course, when your brother is here Jungkook is an angel, never once saying anything to you that could be taken the wrong way.

Thing is, Taehyung has always dreamed of studying abroad, in Paris. Has always wished to experience the French lifestyle, to wake up to eat croissants and gaze at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. So when he got the opportunity to do his winter semester over there, of course he jumped on the chance. 

You’ve been living alone in the same apartment as Jeon Jungkook for less than a month and you already wish May to be at your door and for Taehyung to come back.

It’s late. Sometime close to two am, and the bed creaking in the room next to yours, the one banging into the wall, has been keeping you up.

Or maybe the intermittent high-pitched clipped moans are what are keeping you up. Because, mind you, the walls of your apartment are paper-thin. So paper-thin sometimes you think you’re in Jungkook’s room while he’s ramming some girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Sometimes, you think you can almost picture him. Almost see the muscles of his back move under his skin as he jack-hammers into yet another girl, almost see his powerful thighs slap on hers each time he pushes in, almost see his fucked-out face when he comes with that loud grunt of his…

You miss Taehyung being around because Jungkook wasn’t as loud then. Still brought girls home every Thursday like clockwork, but made sure he wasn’t loud enough for the whole building to hear him. With Taehyung gone, Jungkook has stopped caring, and you have been suffering the consequences since then.

In truth, it hasn’t been that long. Less than three weeks, and you’ve heard Jungkook fuck like four times? You reckon it could be a lot worse… but he could also be respectful and not fuck people when you’re trying to sleep because you have a nine am class the next day.

The first time it happened, you were mortified. You listened to music, hoping you wouldn’t hear it anymore but, the thing is, his headboard bangs against the same wall your headboard is against. So you still felt it, and you suffered through the whole ordeal hoping you would disappear through the floor.

The second time it happened, you were annoyed. You considered knocking against the wall to tell him to shut the fuck up – or rather to tell the girl to shut the fuck up – but you resisted. Solely because you didn’t want to stir shit with Jungkook. You considered asking Taehyung to tell Jungkook to be more respectful, but it sounded childish and stupid so you eventually let it slide.

The third time it happened, you were… aroused. Maybe because it had been a long time since you had sex – the last time being in late November with Hoseok, a guy studying in the same major as you, though he’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s age. Yet, even though you felt aroused, you focused on all the ways you were going to murder Jungkook the next day.

Today… today the arousal is winning the game. It’s been making your heart run wild, and your grip on your sheets has your knuckles turning white, skin stretched taut over how hard you’re clenching your fists. 

And when you hear Jungkook say something that definitely sounds like “Good fucking girl”, you lose it. You’re too aroused, dripping from just hearing him, and you need to have the coil inside of you snap if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

With all the sounds emerging from his room, you doubt Jungkook is going to hear you. So you shamelessly rummage through the top drawer of your night table, searching for your vibrator, smiling in victory when your hand closes around it.

You’re wearing PJ shorts, and you quickly rid yourself of them as the girl lets out a short-clipped moan that makes you think you’re listening to porn, and not to your roommate fucking.

Though you reckon sex with Jungkook really does sound like porn.

You lie back in bed once you’re rid of your shorts, taking a hold of your vibrator. You turn it on, adjusting it to your favourite setting. You feel strange doing so, like you’re doing something you really shouldn’t be doing, but you can’t help it.

The second you press the vibrator on your clit, you forget all about how what you’re doing is wrong. All you can focus on is the pleasure that radiates through your body, and your eyes close tightly, images of Jungkook swirling in your brain.

When the girl moans again, and Jungkook tells her that she’s ‘taking it so well’, your free hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s not enough, and you’re quick to move it under the shirt. You pinch hard, and you let out a breathy sound as your thighs instinctively close on your wrist.

Jungkook’s headboard starts banging against the wall even more, and your brain produces an image of Jungkook between your legs, fucking you until all you can think is his name. It has you pushing your vibrator inside of you, and you lightly moan again at the pleasurable intrusion. 

You let go of your nipple, moving that hand to your clit instead, and your fingers expertly start drawing circles on it. You listen to Jungkook’s grunts all along, to the girl’s moans, and maybe you’re a little too blissed out to realize they’re done, but when you reach your high you can’t help the broken moan you let out, a little too loud for the paper-thin walls of your apartment.

As you’re coming down from your high, you realize the apartment is eerily silent, and you swallow the lump of awkwardness that’s formed in your throat. You wipe your vibrator with some tissue, knowing you’ll have to actually clean it on the morrow, but you don’t want to kill the silence of the night just so you can put your vibrator back in its hiding spot right away. 

But you’re not stupid, and you know you need a trip to the bathroom anyway. You put your PJ shorts back on, grab your phone to use it as a flashlight so you don’t bump into a wall on the way to the bathroom, and you tiptoe all the way over there, hoping to be as soundless as possible.

You have to walk in front of Jungkook’s room to get to the bathroom, and then halfway across the living room. You notice his door is closed on your way, and you peacefully make it all the way to the bathroom. You quickly pee and clean yourself up, washing your hands before you open the door.

Which, you reckon might have been your demise. Because when you open the door of the bathroom, it’s to let out a high-pitched startled yelp at the sight of a shirtless Jungkook on the other side. The sound of the faucet must have hidden his footsteps.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and in the dim light, you’re pretty sure Jungkook is smirking.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after the silence has started to stretch into awkwardness.

You clench your jaw, gaze dropping to the ground. “You were disturbing my sleep.”

He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Was I now?”

Your eyes shoot back to his face at the low huskiness of his tone, and you wish with all of your heart that you had the courage to punch him in the face. But you don’t, so all you reply is, “You need to start fucking your hookups somewhere else.”

His smirk falls into a pout. “I won’t go over to the girls’ places. But I can make sure they’re more silent next time.”

Your brain can’t help but wonder if he means ‘they’ as in he was fucking two girls or just they as in generally referring to a single person.

You obstinately remain silent for a moment, holding his gaze with surprising defiance. “Please do,” you finally choose to say, and the smirk makes its way back to his features.

“I promise,” he says, voice low once again, and you hate how it has something tightening inside of you once more. 

You hate it so much that you escape, wishing him good night as you walk around him. You feel the warmth of his body on the way, and you’re thinking about ways to stab him in the back when he says, “Sleep well, peach.”

Saturday, January 21st

You’ve taken to referring to last Wednesday night, or early Thursday morning, as The Incident. At least that’s what you call it when you talk about it with your friends, Ria and Nabi. Ria, who’s always had some sort of a crush on Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted each time it’s mentioned, and Nabi thinks he’s proven that he’s the biggest asshole in college.

You relate to both, and mostly agree with Nabi. 

You’re supposed to go to some party later tonight. Ria convinced you to pre-drink at the girls’ dorm before you go, considering it’s closer to the party than your apartment, and the three of you are sitting in a circle on the floor, with music playing in the background. Needless to say, Nabi has been complaining ever since you got there, because she doesn’t usually do parties, and Ria is so excited she’s got you convinced that tonight will be the best night of your life.

Almost.

“Shots?” Ria asks as if you haven’t already taken two shots each.

She’s holding the bottle of tequila up, a red flush to her cheeks and mischief lighting her gaze. You don’t find it in you to say no, because you know that without the tequila Nabi is never going to make it to the party.

“Let’s do this,” you say, offering her a smirk as Nabi hides her face in her hands.

“You girls are going to kill me,” she complains. 

“Come on,” Ria says, playfully pushing her on the shoulder. “Maybe that cute guy you like is going to be there!”

Nabi has had a crush on someone from your major, Kim Namjoon, ever since you met her at the beginning of Frosh week last semester. He’s a tall guy, with dimples whenever he smiles, and you can see why she’d have a crush on him. Thing is, Namjoon has been dating someone ever since then, and Nabi has just been suffering in silence.

You still remember the moment you saw the crush bubble to life. It was day three of Frosh Week, and Namjoon was in charge of your team, along with Hoseok. You, Nabi, and three other first years were winning the relay race, figuring out the puzzles so quickly you had a good advance on the other teams. In a leap of happiness, Nabi jumped over a small stone wall on campus. One of her feet got tangled, and she ended up spraining her ankle.

Namjoon had been right by her side, asking her if she was okay. And Nabi has been in love with him ever since that day, though she’d never dare say it aloud.

“I don’t like anyone,” she grumbles, but the way her cheeks flush red is telling.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon,” you singsong, offering her a shit eating grin. 

She retaliates by saying, “When’s the last time you’ve fucked Hobi? Didn’t you say he was the best lay of your life?”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and Ria lets out a loud laugh.

“We stopped fucking in November, you know that!” you burst, feeling yourself turning crimson. “And it’s not like I have a crush on him, I stopped because it felt like he had a crush on me.”

Nabi has a winning smile on her lips. “And what’s so bad about that?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “The sex was good, but I didn’t feel like dating him. Simple as that.”

“Why not?” Ria asks, tequila forgotten. “You never told us.” She adds a pout to her sentence, trying to get you to explain.

There’s no explanation. You just didn’t feel like it. You tell them as much, but Nabi doesn’t buy it. Ria, on the other hand, lets out a sound that has both you and Nabi startling.

“I know why!” she explains.

You cock an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You live with fucking Jeon Jungkook, of course you don’t want to date Hobi. Especially after The Incident.”

You laugh, as it’s just as ridiculous as you expected it to be. “Not at all. Jungkook is Tae’s best friend.”

Both your friends look at you, as if what you said was the stupidest shit they ever heard.

“What?”

“What does it change?” Nabi asks with a small voice. 

“Well,” you let out, because you don’t really know. It’s just weird to you, and you don’t know how to explain it. “For one, I’m pretty sure Tae would kill him if he ever laid a finger on me.”

“Tae is in Paris,” Ria innocently says.

“Irrelevant,” you say, chuckling. “He’s going to be back in just a few months.”

“A lot can happen in a few months,” she adds, wiggling her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes before reaching out between the two of you. “Give me the tequila.”

“I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” she teases, and she cradles the tequila to her chest. “As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll try to fuck him tonight.”

“Have fun!” is all you answer before making grabby hands at her. “Now, give me the alcohol, let’s get plastered before we get there so we don’t have to drink the crappy frat booze.”

*****

The frat house hosting the party is wild. Has always been – you’ve always found they go too far with most of their parties. But they also host the most memorable parties, and you know tonight will be a blast the moment you set in to see the strung LED light, shining different patterns of colours around the main room. A table in the corner is stacked high with every bottle of hard alcohol imaginable, and there are three coolers you assume are holding beer or something of the sorts. 

One of the guys – Dave? – shows you three where you can leave your coats, on a bed in the upstairs bedroom, and then he walks you to the alcohol table, offering to pour you some shots.

Nabi giggles, because by the time you left their dorm, she got quite drunk, claiming she needed it if she were to run into Namjoon after what you and Ria had said. She accepts the shot she’s handed, though half of it has spilled on her hand by the time the guy gives you yours. He puts salt on your hands, carefully, as Ria makes fun of Nabi, and you look around, scanning the crowd. You recognize a few people from your class, along with the usual party crowd of your college. You smile at two guys you’ve spoken to before at least once, before resuming your attention on Dave (?) as he hands you a slice of lemon.

When the four of you are ready, you lick the salt, knock back the shot, and then bite in the lemon to chase the taste of tequila away. It’s cheap tequila, and even with lemon the taste lingers while you prepare vodka cranberries for you and your friends. And though Ria loves dancing, you and Nabi win as you choose to head to the kitchen, where you know the music isn’t usually as loud.

The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is the beer pong table in the middle. Jeon Jungkook is currently playing, along with Jimin, another of your brother’s friends. As he sees you, Jimin raises his glass, offering you a wide grin, and then he punches Jungkook in his side before motioning to you.

Jungkook notices you then, and he offers you a smirk as he eyes you up and down. You feel shy for half a beat, though you know you look good. You’re wearing a green corset along with a pair of black leather pants, and you know the two pieces of clothing hug your body perfectly. Plus, Ria did your makeup, and Ria never fails when it comes to makeup. So you wait as Jungkook looks at you, hoping the foundation Ria put on your face is thick enough for him not to see you blush as The Incident inevitably comes back to your mind.

You look away, and then you see Hoseok hovering by glass sliding doors, along with Namjoon and their other friend Yoongi. Hoseok is busy with a conversation, and when he bursts out laughing you can hear it clear as day.

Why didn’t you want to date him? You don’t know. You actually really don’t know, because he ticks off all the boxes. But something was missing, you presume, and sometimes you hate yourself for it.

He must have sensed your attention, and he turns his head towards you. You don’t miss the way his smile falls a little, and he nods once in recognition. When you smile, his mouth closes to offer you one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles, and your gaze drops away to the cup in your hand.

Of course, Ria has a nefarious plan in mind, because she hooks her arm with yours and Nabi’s, pulling you towards the trio of guys. You’re fully aware that it’s mostly for Nabi, and that it’s stupid because last you’ve heard, Namjoon is still dating his girlfriend, but you let your friend pull you towards the men, gaze still stubbornly hiding in your cup.

You watch the liquid slosh around as you stop in front of them, and Namjoon greets you. Hoseok falls eerily silent, and Yoongi asks you all how you’ve been doing.

You only join in the conversation when you’ve taken a long sip from your cup to ease your nerves. Not that it really helped, but you reckon just standing there in silence would probably make things more awkward than anything else.

“Nabi is pretty drunk,” Ria is saying when you finally look up from the cup. 

“Am not!” Nabi insists, voice slurred. “Or maybe just a little.”

Namjoon laughs, while Yoongi chuckles. “As long as you don’t fall and sprain your ankle again, I think you’re alright.”

“Won’t fall again,” Nabi promises. “Not with these two with me.” She says that motioning to you and Ria, and it somehow brings Namjoon’s attention to you.

“I saw your essay on the synthesis and control of energy metabolism,” he tells you, a dimpled smile on display. “It was pretty good.”

You can’t help but slide your eyes to Nabi, who wrote a far better essay on human health and bacteriophage in your opinion, and you don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ground.

“Thanks,” you reply to Namjoon nonetheless.

He’s started TA-ing to help out Seokjin, one of the biochemistry grad students. All of you are biology students, except Ria and Yoongi. Ria is in administration, and Yoongi studies music, his concentration being piano and producing.

There’s an awkward silence, and you glance towards Hoseok, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. He’s good-looking, even though he’s simply dressed in a T-shirt with some graphics on the front and a pair of discoloured jeans. Knowing him, he probably has a crazy jacket upstairs, because you know he’s good when it comes to fashion.

It’s what attracted you to him in the first place.

“How are you?” you ask him, and you notice Yoongi’s pointed gaze on you. It’s disapproving, you think, but the question left your mouth without you even wanting it to.

“I’ve been great,” Hoseok replies, though it’s a little colder than what you know him to be.

You nod, gaze dropping to the ground as Ria strikes a conversation with the three others, clearly trying to give you and Hoseok some space. It has the two of you just standing in aimless silence, until the sound of whooping behind you attracts your gaze to the beer pong table, where Jimin and Jungkook are celebrating a win. “I’m…” you trail off as you turn back to look at him. “I’m glad. How are your classes?”

He sighs. “They’re harder than first-year classes.”

You don’t miss the ghost of a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately latch onto it. “Oh, please, you struggled in molecular biology. I got A+ in the class.”

He chuckles, and you physically relax. Because you haven’t really talked since you ended things in November, finals coming in the way of partying and other events where you would run into him. So you didn’t know before today where you stood with him, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem like he’s holding a grudge.

“You weren’t in Lester’s class,” he points out. “Even Namjoon almost failed Lester’s class.”

You gasp in fake outrage. “No way! And now he’s the biochem TA.”

“I know,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The renewed complicity between the two of you is easy, you realize, and when he suggests playing a game of beer pong, you immediately agree. Or maybe you only agree because you don’t know where Nabi, Ria, Yoongi and Namjoon went, only that they aren’t next to you anymore.

 Jungkook and Jimin are still undefeated at the table, and when Jungkook catches sight of you moving closer, he winks before shooting.

You’re not surprised when the ball goes right in a cup, leaving only one on the table. Jimin laughs as their opponents claim Jungkook cheated, and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“You should know better than to call me a cheater, bro,” Jungkook says, and he runs a hand in his hair.

An infuriating small strand falls in his big doe eyes, but he seemingly doesn’t care. He glances at you once again, eyes trailing between you and Hoseok.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks when his gaze settles back on you.

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your cleavage before moving back to your face.

“I’m here to beat your ass,” you reply, and you offer him a shit-eating grin.

He laughs, and he sets his attention on Hoseok. “I hope you’re good, bro, because she’s just declared war.” And then he looks at you, smirking that insufferable smirk once more. His doe eyes narrow threateningly, and you find yourself wishing you had never heard him fuck before.

Because all your brain can picture right now is how you came to the sound of his grunts a couple of days ago.

“What?” you can’t help but say, though he looks away from you as the two other guys shoot, completely missing the three cups left in front of Jimin and Jungkook. 

You notice Jimin looking at you with an eyebrow cocked, and the smile on his lips means nothing good. You furrow your brows, because you know how much of a gossip he is, but thankfully enough for you, he has to throw.

You watch as he does so, landing it right in the last cup. Jungkook of course throws right in the cup too, claiming the victory for them as the two other guys grumble and leave the table, leaving the place free for you and Hoseok.

You meet Hoseok’s gaze, offering him a small smirk. “I hope you’re ready to get fucked.”

You only realize how crude your words sounded, especially considering your history with him, when he starts laughing, that contagious laugh you’ve always found cute.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good shot,” he says once you’ve calmed down. “Are you?”

You wince. “Once in a while I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “Most of the time I suck.”

“Well hopefully you’ll be good tonight,” he teases, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You offer him a determined nod, before turning to face Jungkook and Jimin. You quickly put the solo cups back in position, as Jungkook watches you with a half-smile on his lips. You don’t know what to make of it, so you ignore him.

A small, tiny, minuscule voice at the back of your head tells you he probably knows about The Incident, but you ignore it entirely like you’ve been doing for the past few days.

Turns out Hoseok really is a good shot. He lands all of his shots, but of course, it has to be the day you suck. You don’t land any, up until the redemption that brings you back into the game when Jungkook and Jimin are about to win.

It makes you scream in happiness, and you throw your arms around Hoseok’s neck, right as his hands lay flat on your waist. He pulls you close, laughing in your ear until you let go, and you have the decency to feel bad.

You’re pretty sure you broke his heart in November, and you’re pretty sure you’ll only end up breaking it again. But there’s just something in the way Jungkook is staring from the other side of the table, smile gone, that makes you want to cling to Hoseok. So you do, and when he stands behind you to help you with your next shot, you let him put one hand on your hip.

Your gaze meets Jungkook’s, and you watch as his eyes dip to the fingers on your hip. He cocks his head to the side, wets his lips, and then an infuriating smirk lights up his features dangerously until you feel like you need to look away or else you’ll combust. So you glance at Jimin, who is just smiling prettily because when is he not, and then you focus on the lone solo cup you have to aim for.

“What you want to do,” Hoseok says, leaning so he can speak in your ear. You’re infinitely aware of how his pelvis brushes your ass, and your breath catches in your throat. He continues, “is to throw in a parabola. That way you won’t hit the rim of the cup”. He grabs your wrist, lifting your hand. “From this height, it should work.”

You nod, because you don’t think you can answer, especially not as you can hear Jungkook snickering from where he’s standing. Instead, you really focus on the cup, and when you’re about to throw, Jungkook speaks up.

“Put it in, baby.”

Your brain short-circuits, and it’s no wonder you miss by a good, few inches. Jimin is a giggly mess next to Jungkook, Hoseok can’t resist his laugh, and all you can do is glare at Jungkook’s satisfied smile.

“What the fuck?” you let out.

He winks at you. “Gotta learn to not get distracted, peach.”

You hate the nickname. He knows that you do, and it’s the reason why he’s been using it for months now. Ever since one late night where you played Mario Kart together with Taehyung and Jimin, and you kept choosing Princess Peach as your character. When you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, Jungkook followed you and teased you about it, and now the nickname has stuck.

Though evidently never in front of Taehyung.

You wish you had a snarky retort in you, but all you can do is think about The Incident, and pray he can’t tell that your cheeks are burning up because of him and not because of the alcohol.

You end up losing the beer pong game, and you cringe internally as you watch Hoseok dapping Jungkook and Jimin up. You begrudgingly congratulate them, as Jungkook teases you for the loss.

“Would have thought your brother taught you better than this,” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, glancing at Hoseok, but he’s striking a conversation with Jimin. 

“Tae and I didn’t spend all that much time together, Jungkook,” you remind him. “You know I just moved in with you guys because you needed someone after Jimin left.”

Jungkook shrugs. “You seem pretty close to him.” 

He falls silent, pulling at his piercing as you glance at his features. You’ve left your liquid courage somewhere on the table, and you really wish you had it with you right now. Only so you could avoid the sudden wistful look in Jungkook’s haze, though it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it.

“He’s really protective of you,” he comments as you too remain silent, not knowing what to say.

You chuckle, because if there is a thing that is true, it’s that your older brother is an overbearing asshole. “That he is,” you agree, and you both laugh.

“Hey, do you want a drink?” Hoseok suddenly asks, and you realize that Jimin has disappeared. 

You’re pretty sure Jungkook is eyeing him up and down when you reply, “Please, I need a new drink.”

Hoseok beams, and you make to move towards him when Jungkook grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes widen, The Incident flashing in your mind, but his tattooed fingers let go of you as you throw him an inquisitive look.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” he admits. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer to drive you home.”

At that, your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in surprise. “What?”

He shrugs, corner smile back on his pink lips. “As long as you don’t get sick, that is.”

You ponder for a time, because you were supposed to sleep over at Nabi and Ria’s dorm tonight. You reckon heading home would probably be better, especially now that Hoseok has caught your attention again.

Maybe you can give Jungkook a piece of his medicine.

“Ayt,” you tell him, moving closer as a secretive smile moves on your lips, brought up by the evil plan that is just starting to form in your brain. “I’ll find you later?”

Jungkook looks down at you, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. A smirk moves on his lips and he glances at Hoseok before settling his doe eyes back on you.

He looks nothing like a doe when he says, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And then he’s the one that walks away, and you can’t breathe for a few seconds as Hoseok waits patiently, either unaware of the situation or not caring. Though you know he knows Jungkook is your roommate – he probably just thinks Jungkook is being nice.

You inhale deeply, before turning to look at Hoseok as you let out your breath. “So, drinks?”

He smiles, genuinely, nodding his head as he offers you his hand to take. To your surprise, he pulls you close to him, and the way his gaze looks down on you makes you all too aware that you used to fuck him, and he used to fuck you good.

“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, head dipping so he can ask the question in your ear.

“What do you want?”

His smile turns a little dangerous, and he looks over your head to the doorway to the living room. “Shall we?”

You laugh, nodding your head enthusiastically, and you let him pull you behind him. He guides you to the drink table in the living room, where he makes you a rum and coke as you scan your surroundings. You spy Ria and Nabi dancing, and you only understand why when you notice that Namjoon is nearby too, with Yoongi who’s just standing to the side, scrolling on his phone as if bored.

You know Hoseok likes to dance. That’s how you first kissed all those months ago, so you don’t hesitate to ask if he wants to join your friends after you’ve both drank a couple of sips from your respective solo cups. He obviously agrees, and you take his hand to guide him to your friends. You’re painfully aware of how Yoongi raises his head when you get closer, eyes dropping to your entwined hands. He furrows his brows disapprovingly, and you wonder if he’ll speak up.

If he’ll speak up and ruin your plan for you. 

He doesn’t, instead meeting your gaze as if daring you to do something. It makes you feel bad for a split second until Hoseok lets go of your hand to rest a hand on your hip as he nestles his lean body against your back.

“You know,” he says in your ear, and you look away from Yoongi, refusing to acknowledge his challenge. “I always wondered why you ghosted me.”

You gulp, and you follow his lead as he makes you sway your hips against him. Ria whistles and your eyes widen a little as if to say ‘please not right now’.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it’s true. “I didn’t really mean to ghost you, just got busy and…”

He laughs, and you’re surprised to hear it ring true. “Y/n,” he says. He leans even closer, and his lips brush your ear. It makes goosebumps rise all over your body, right as he continues, “You can say you got scared. I gave you plenty of reasons to be scared.”

Because you had agreed on no feelings, and he still had developed some, hadn’t he?

“I’m still sorry, ghosting you was shitty of me.”

He chuckles, and you’re starting to recognize the man that he is in the bedroom. His voice is low, husky, when he says, “Should I punish you for it?”

The Incident and Jeon Jungkook are thousands of miles from your thoughts when his words settle in, making heat pool at your core.

“You’d still want to do this?” you ask, breathlessly.

He nibbles at your earlobe, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him better access. He kisses under your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, and this time Ria fully hollers in front of you.

You glare at her, only to see that she and Nabi are having the time of their life watching you.

“I haven’t been able to forget how good your pussy feels wrapped around my dick,” Hoseok replies after he’s sucked a hickey on your neck. “Trust me, if I can fuck you again, I’ll do it.”

You don’t hesitate when you turn around, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And you know you would. Especially considering how tense he was when you first talked to him tonight. 

“Sweet of you,” he comments, and a smirk grows on his lips. He pulls away from you, taking a sip of rum and coke. “I wasn’t catching feelings for you, if that’s what you were worried about.” He pauses as his face falls fully serious. “You just don’t like when people treat you right.”

You’re insulted. You really are, yet… he isn’t entirely wrong. The minute a guy gets too close, you dip – you blame that on the fact your father abandoned you and Taehyung when you were still kids.

“Is that why Yoongi is glaring at me?” you ask, a little colder than intended. 

The message still passes, and Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what Yoongi thinks. He always thinks he knows me better than I do but, trust, he doesn’t.”

You’re surprised at just how bitter Hoseok’s sentence sounds. You always thought Yoongi and he were best friends. It’s strange to think that maybe they aren’t, or at least maybe they aren’t close enough to be.

“Anyway,” Hoseok adds when you remain silent for a little too long. “If you’re willing to fuck again, I’d be down. I haven’t found another pussy like yours since the last time we fucked.”

Which coincidentally is the last time you had sex with anyone. You’re not surprised Hoseok fucked some other people after you – with his easy charm, you know he can have anyone wrapped around his finger pretty easily. 

And if he wants to participate in your evil plan so willingly, who are you to tell him no?

“The night’s barely started,” you point out. “But maybe you can come back to my place later?”

You’ve never invited him over before, because if there’s a thing that scares you more than anything in this world, it’s Taehyung hearing you having sex with some guy. But now that your brother is in Paris, you figure it doesn’t matter.

Plus, if you want Jungkook to get a taste of his own medicine, you have to bring Hoseok home.

“Deal,” Hoseok tells you, and he seals the deed with a searing and unexpected kiss.

You still kiss him back, hungrily, your body remembering just how good Hoseok can make you feel. You just have to make it through a party – with Jungkook driving you home, you know it’s likely you won’t leave until the party is starting to dwindle down.

When you pull away, Hoseok licks his lips once, as if wanting to remember the taste of you, before saying, “I’ll find you at the end of the party”.

You nod, and begrudgingly let him leave when he walks over to where Yoongi is standing, now joined by a baffled Namjoon, who glances between the two of you a couple of times. You ignore him, instead focusing on Ria and Nabi as they drunkenly pull you away, laughing wildly.

“What the fuck was that?” Ria asks in between two sets of laughter as you emerge in the kitchen. “I thought you said you didn’t want him anymore.”

You don’t want to jinx your plan, so all you can think to do is shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It just happened.”

In a weird moment of soberness, Nabi says, “Please don’t lead him on. He’s a decent guy”.

You tell your friends what he told you, and they both seem taken aback, yet they don’t question it. After all, the amount of alcohol in your blood is enough to make it so it’s a little hard to think profoundly, and inhibitions have flown out the window before you even got to the party.

After the conversation is over, your two friends insist on playing beer pong, claiming that they need you to encourage them. You recognize Dave at the table – you think that’s his name – and you all cozy up next to him as you ask to be next. You linger behind, mostly because you’ve noticed someone you’ve been avoiding ever since you got to college last semester, and you hope he doesn’t notice you.

Maybe he’s one of the reasons why you’ve been struggling with people treating you right, like Hoseok mentioned. Because Sam was your first love, and he played you immensely.

If he notices you, he doesn’t look like he does, instead keeping his arm tightly wrapped around the girl next to him. You don’t know her, and you wouldn’t even care if you did – you stopped caring about Sam a long time ago. But you’re still a little put off at the sight of him, and when you catch sight of Jungkook and Jimin by the backyard’s sliding door, breathing in some fresh air, you decide to join them.

Which, you reckon, is a very stupid idea. Because they are Taehyung’s friends, not yours, but they feel safer for you than being in the vicinity of Sam Hwang right now.

“Weren’t you sucking face with what’s-his-name just a second ago?” Jimin asks straight away as you stop next to them.

You snort in your cup, taking a long sip from your drink. “Maybe,” you say once you’ve swallowed.

“Tae would have killed him,” Jimin jokes, looking at Jungkook.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze is focused on a spot on your neck, and you rub it mindlessly. 

“Good thing he’s in Paris,” you point out. “And I can trust you two to not tell him?” 

You say it like a question, though you know it’s useless. Jimin is the biggest gossip you know, and you expect Taehyung to be scolding you by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.

Though that attracts Jungkook’s attention to your face, and he meets your gaze with that same infuriating smirk he was sporting earlier. 

“Lips sealed,” he says, uselessly because both of you know that Jimin is the real danger.

Before anything else can be said, Jimin points towards the beer pong table. “Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?”

You shrug, taking another sip of rum and coke. “They don’t need me.”

“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook teases.

Jimin and he laughs at your expanse, and you’re stuck glaring at Jungkook, right as The Incident takes the forefront of your thoughts again.

You wish it would stop haunting you. Wish it would leave you alone, because you feel like it was the cataclysm to a series of bad decisions. The first event of a butterfly effect that is threatening to push you over the edge of the cliff.

“I did get the redemption shot,” you point out, and Jungkook playfully nudges you again.

“Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”

Your gaze widens. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you quickly defend.

Admittedly a tad too quickly.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, wetting his lips before playing with his piercing. “Of course not.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you remain silent because you feel like saying something else would be far too incriminating. 

“Leave her alone,” Jimin jokes. “She did her best.” And then his gaze settles on you, and you balk at the mischief burning in his eyes. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”

“Bruh,” you let out, and you all burst out laughing.

After that, the conversation moves on easily, as you ask Jimin about his girlfriend. He starts gushing about the girl – he always does whenever Sera is mentioned. He tells you about her latest publication, and Jungkook looks bored out of his mind by the time something catches his attention, and he walks away from you and Jimin.

You watch him leave, somehow disappointed, but you entertain the conversation with Jimin for longer still. And Jimin is fun to be around, easy to talk to, and you don’t realize but an hour has passed before he glances down at his phone.

“Shit, I gotta go,” he admits. “I told Sera I wouldn’t be home too late.”

Your solo cup has been empty for half of the hour, so you raise it and say, “Go home, I’m going to get a refill.”

He hugs you goodbye, though you both walk together towards the living room. You part ways as you head to the drink table, once again scanning the room in search of your friends. They are nowhere to be seen, so you set on exploring the house after you’ve made another rum and coke for yourself. 

You find the stairs, and you head upstairs thinking they might have needed to settle in a calmer environment. Knowing Nabi, it is to be expected, yet you don’t find them anywhere upstairs. There’s a closed door leading to what you think is a bathroom, but you refuse to look in there.

You almost let out a startled yelp as it opens, and Jungkook steps out, pretty lips swollen red as he leads a girl behind him. At the sight of you, he lets go of her hand, and she looks between the two of you curiously. As both of you remain entirely silent, she furrows her brow but then dips, running a hand through her visibly tangled-up hair.

You can easily imagine what she and Jungkook were doing just a moment ago.

“Really?” you tell him.

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he laughs. “You asked me not to fuck at home anymore.”

You purse your lips, actually surprised that he took your word into account.

“Didn’t expect you would respect it.”

He doesn’t fake the offence that paints his features. “I’m not an asshole, peach.”

The nickname is said condescendingly, and you reckon you should feel a little bad. Because you’re still set on bringing Hoseok home tonight, no matter if Jungkook decided not to fuck anyone at home again.

“Sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say.

Silence moves between you, and Jungkook leans against the doorframe, arms folding on his chest. He watches you carefully, as if he’s never really seen you before and, frankly, you wish he’d looked at you like this before.

It’s a treacherous thought, and you push it away as best as you can. 

“Jimin went home,” you tell him, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, anything.

Before he can reply, a group of people move upstairs, talking loudly. Jungkook pushes up from the doorframe, walking towards you.

“Do you want to go home too?” he asks when he’s right next to you.

He’s tall. You have to tilt your head back to be able to hold his gaze, and damn you, you’re hypnotized. You don’t want to look away, don’t think that you can.

“You already want to go home?” you answer, wetting your lips, and his eyes drop to your mouth.

He scoffs, as if it’s an inconvenience, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”

Right.

“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He smiles, with no hint of that infuriating smirk for once. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”

The fact he works in a library still makes no sense to you. Though he’s claimed it’s because that way, it’s easy to approach all the pretty, intelligent women who don’t go to parties. Easy targets for a fuckboy like him.

“Ah,” you let out. “Well…” you glance at the group of people as they get out of the room where the coats are. When you resume your attention on Jungkook, you’re struck thinking he’s moved even closer. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”

You say it innocently, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook frowns slightly. “Who?”

You force Hoseok’s name out, mostly because the way Jungkook is looking at you right now is making you want to disappear through the floor.

“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with,” Jungkook comments. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”

A smirk grows on his lips. “Then why are you bringing him home, peach?”

Your own smirk is easy to come to your lips as you reply, “I’ll let you imagine.”

“Your brother wouldn’t approve.”

As he licks at his piercing, you can���t help but look down at his lips. “Good thing you’re not my brother then.”

He doesn’t reply, only looks over your head as you hear the unmistakable laugh of Jeong Hoseok. It makes you take a step back, and you turn to see Hoseok appearing at the top of the stairs. To your surprise, he’s accompanied by Ria, Nabi and Namjoon, but Yoongi is nowhere in sight.

Namjoon is helping Nabi walk, as she’s clearly gotten even drunker since you abandoned them downstairs. You wince at her sight, knowing she’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. 

Ria catches sight of you and Jungkook, and her gaze widens.

“Here you are!” she shrieks. “We were looking for you everywhere.”

You don’t miss the way Hoseok looks you up and down, and you thank your stars for making this so easy. “I was thinking of heading home,” you tell the group, and you glance over your shoulder to confirm it with Jungkook.

He’s got an unreadable expression on his features, one that makes you think you’re going to enjoy your payback way too much.

When you look back to the group, it’s to see Hoseok cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Am I still coming?’ You nod, and you take a few steps towards him, interlocking your fingers with his. Ria watches as if it’s a scene from her favourite movie, and you all enter the room with the coats. 

You find yours in the mess on the floor, fast enough to catch sight of Jungkook as he’s waiting outside the door. You recognize his coat in the mess, so you grab it before bringing it to him.

“Here,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “Thanks, peach.”

Hoseok is next to follow, and the two guys eye each other before you hear Namjoon say, “Are you sure you’re fine with getting her home?”

You look into the room – Nabi is now lying on the bed, laughing to herself.

“Hopefully, yeah,” Ria answers. “I’ve already called an Uber.”

Namjoon is watching Nabi with a strange expression on his features when he says, “You guys are still at the dorms?”

“Yeah, we are,” Nabi slurs. “Where else would we be?”

Namjoon chuckles, and he glances your way. You immediately look away, right as he says, “I’ll come with you guys, then.”

Your thoughts head to his girlfriend for a few seconds, feeling bad for the girl, though clearly, Namjoon is just trying to be a gentleman. When you see Jungkook and Hoseok waiting patiently for you, you forget all about Nabi, Ria, Namjoon and his hypothetic girlfriend, especially as you see the not-so-genuine smile on Hoseok’s lips, and the dark look in Jungkook’s gaze.

Maybe your plan was a little too evil after all.

*****

The night is cold outside ─ arctic ─ and you wish you were drunker. That way, you’d barely feel it, but no, you’re forced to a shivering mess as you walk behind Jungkook towards his car, which he was forced to park a few streets over because of a recent snowstorm. All that can be heard is the sounds of your shoes crunching in the snow and the distant buzz of the highway. Up above, the stars twinkle in the night, and smoke moves from your mouth to create a cloud over your head.

You hate winter. Always have, and always will. Especially when it’s so cold you feel like your face will fall off, and you reckon tonight is one of the coldest nights in a while. 

Your eyes trail to Hoseok, and you smile in relief – at least your bed won’t be cold tonight.

You finally reach Jungkook’s car, and he unlocks the doors, the sound reverberating through the cold air. You sit in the back seat with Hoseok, pushing Jungkook’s gym bag to the side, and Jungkook is quick to turn on the engine, blasting the heater on. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror as he waits for the engine to be warm enough to actually start driving. 

For a moment, you forget Hoseok is next to you. All you can focus on is Jungkook’s gaze. Where it’s usually wide, big and innocent, his eyes are narrowed now, as if he’s eyeing you. Judging you, even. Judging your choices, and you think he’s full of shit for it – he’s the first one to fuck around whenever he has the opportunity, after all.

A moment later, he deems the car finally ready, and he looks away, focusing on the street instead. He turns up the music on the stereo, and you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. You do so until you feel Hoseok’s hand landing on your thigh, which attracts your attention to him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok says, not too loud, but clearly Jungkook hears because his fingers stop tapping on the wheel.

You smile, glancing down at Hoseok’s lips. They look chapped from the cold, yet when he smiles that bright smile of his back, you can’t help but think they are still inviting.

“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “This idiot doesn’t know how to –“

Jungkook slams the brakes, and you whip your head towards him as the aftershock sends you back into your seat. His eyes are gleaming with barely concealed mischief, and the infuriating smirk graces his lips.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t seem apologetic at all.

You roll your eyes, but that kills the conversation until you arrive at your apartment, which thankfully isn’t too far away from the party. Jungkook parks out front, and you all file out of the car, walking up the stairs to your door. You unlock it while the two men stand next to you, and you’re not sure what’s colder – them, or the actual winter night.

You’re not sure you want to know the answer either.

Warm air wraps you in its embrace as you open the door and step in, and you quickly shut it after the two men to make sure the cold doesn’t come in too much. By the time you’ve turned back around, Jungkook’s already halfway to his bedroom.

“Good night,” he says over his shoulder. 

For some reason, you expected him to be more of an ass about the situation, but you’re reduced to thinking he actually doesn’t care all that much. You watch him until he disappears in his room before your eyes slide to Hoseok.

He’s been observing you all this time, and the moment your eyes meet, he smiles.

“We can hang our coats in the closet,” you tell him as you unzip yours, and he follows your motion.

You grab a hanger for him, handing it to him before taking off your coat and hanging it. Once that is done, you head towards your room, pit-stopping in the kitchen to grab glasses of water. You reckon you didn’t expect him to be so silent, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable.

Even when you’re in your room, and you’ve plugged in your fairy lights, Hoseok still doesn’t say a thing. 

“You good?” you ask him, doing your best to calm your sudden nerves.

Was it a good idea to bring him here after all?

He grins, nodding once. “The apartment isn’t as messy as you let it sound like.”

Not expecting that at all, you let out a small laugh. But he isn’t wrong – out of the three of you, Taehyung is by far the messiest. And now that he is gone, Jungkook and you have managed to keep the apartment tidy and clean, though sometimes Jungkook does leave some dirty dishes around.

“Oh,” you let out, and you chuckle. “Yeah, we cleaned this week.”

Last Wednesday, actually. Right before Jungkook had his pussy appointment, it turns out.

Hoseok looks around, and you gaze at his honey skin for a time. It looks warm in the lights, and his smile is still just as blinding when he offers it to you.

“Like your room.”

You scan it as if you haven’t lived here for months now. You’ve brought most of the stuff you had at home – except your collection of plushies. Polaroid pictures of you growing up are hung on threads over your desk, which is a little messy from the project you were working on yesterday. Your laptop lays there unattended, screen black, and you walk over to shut it absentmindedly. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you tell him, and you don’t have time to turn around for him to put his hand on your hip like he was doing earlier at the party. 

You take a long swig of water, before putting the glass down on your desk. Hoseok imitates you, and then his other hand finds a home on your waist.

“Feels like you,” he whispers, head dipping down so he can say the words in your ear.

You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves your hair out of the way before kissing on the hickey he sucked on your skin at the party.

“Yeah?” you breathe out.

He nods, and you feel him move against your neck. He pulls you closer, and your breath itches in your throat when you feel his dick against your ass.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you again for so long.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and one of his hands moves to your neck, holding you firmly into place. “But you had to run away, thinking you knew me. Baby,” he pauses, as his fingers dig in your arteries, making your head swim with the lack of oxygen, “you don’t know me at all. And I’m going to fucking punish you for it tonight. Understood?”

He releases his hold on your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

“Mmh?”

You know exactly what he wants, and it makes your insides boil again. “Yes, sir.”

He smirks against you, before biting at the skin of your neck. “You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nod, entirely unable to form a sentence. You’ve completely forgotten that the goal of tonight is to make Jungkook pay for how he’s been having loud sex. All you can think about right now is the man behind you.

“Then turn around, baby. Strip out of your clothes.”

You obey, mostly because Hoseok brings out a submissive part of you that just craves to do what he wants. Yes, you’ve always been more on the submissive side. But with other people, you can’t help the brat in you.

You fear being a brat with Hoseok would be a very dangerous game to play.

You don’t break the eye contact as you take off your clothes, slowly. He doesn’t look away from you, though he wets his lips as if the sight of you is making him hungry. 

Hoseok has a duality you have rarely seen before. Where he is an incredibly sweet person in his regular life, his bedroom self turns into a demon, a force to be reckoned with. No wonder sex with him is always so good.

When you’re finally naked, panties pooling around your ankles, Hoseok offers you a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but he slowly undoes his belt, before motioning for you to get closer.

Only one step separates you from him, and then you’re standing right in front of him. He raises his hand, making you tilt your head back, and then he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You can’t help but moan when he swats the belt at your side, the leather making your skin tingle. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your hands instinctively grab onto the hem of his shirt.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, making you let go of it. “Get on your knees, baby.”

You drop to your knees, eyes darting to the bulge in his pants once before he makes you tilt your head back again. You gulp, right as he wraps his belt around your neck until the buckle is pressing against your skin. He doesn’t make it tight enough to hurt, but your hands still shake a little at being so vulnerable in front of him.

“You remember the safe word?” he asks.

“Red.”

He nods appreciatively. “And if you can’t speak, you tap my leg, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck you look so good like this.”

Not knowing if you can touch him, you just smile up at him, wetting your lips.

“Want to get a taste of me?”

You already know where this is going to lead. Hoseok fucked your mouth more than once in the three months you had casual sex with him. So you answer, “I want you to come down my throat.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants, before pushing them down his legs. He doesn’t step out of them, instead palming himself through his boxers. You watch the imprint of his dick, salivating at the sight, especially as precum is already wetting the fabric.

Hoseok doesn’t have a particularly big dick. But whenever he fucks you, it feels like he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, mostly because he knows how to use it. Knows how to move and snap his hips in a way that makes you think you’re seeing into the future. It also makes it so sucking his dick doesn’t hurt your jaw too much, so you’re able to do it for a longer period of time.

Tonight, you have an inkling that you’ll be doing it for a while.

He pushes his underwear down, freeing his dick. Your eyes drop to it, not surprised to see the angry, swollen tip. He looks like he’s about to burst, but you know it’s a trick of the eye – Hoseok has more stamina than one would think.

Holding the base of his dick, he brings the tip closer to your face. Your mouth falls open, expecting him to push his cock in, but he instead taps your cheek with it.

“I want to ruin you,” he says in a low voice. “I want you to never be able to fuck another guy because you still think of me.”

You gulp, tongue darting to wet your lips. He gets the cue, and he brings his dick to your mouth. You don’t hesitate before licking at his slit, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth. You then wrap your lips around the head, giving a tentative suck as your tongue plays with the underside of it.

He grunts, cocking his head to the side. And then he starts pulling on the belt – just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so it’s a tad harder to breathe. He’s usually pretty safe in his sex practices, but you feel like this could be dangerous.

You only then understand what he really meant by punishing you, and it makes your pussy drip on your thighs.

You moan around his dick, before slowly pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes water. You swallow around him, keeping the gag reflex at bay as he circles his hips. You pull away from his cock to move to his balls instead, still not using your hands as you lick at the spot between them, licking up his dick at the same time.

“Hands on me, baby,” he commands.

As per usual, you obey. One of your hands moves to fondle his balls, and the other wraps around the base of his cock so you can jerk him off as you suck. And then you get to work, eyes shutting as you concentrate on pulling grunts out of him.

He doesn’t let you do it for a long time. He’s quick to pull on the belt more – it’s a leash more than a belt, is it? – which makes you pull away, lips parted as you struggle to suck in some air.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want to see you cry as you choke on my dick.”

When he guides his cock back towards your mouth, you keep your eyes on him, ever so a good girl, and you let him thrust in your mouth. The first two times he does it, your gag reflex doesn’t show up, but the third time you gag, spit rolling on your chin as he pulls away. A line of drool connects his tip to your mouth, and it breaks as he once again taps his cock on your cheek. Tears water your eyes, and he watches you blink them away, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.

You know that was your last chance when he pushes his dick in your mouth again, establishing a steady yet hard rhythm that has your gaze blurring. You moan against him, right as he grunts, whispering filthy curses entwined with mentions of your name. And when he starts going faster, the sounds of you choking get louder. It’s indecent, pornographic, and tears roll on your cheeks as he throws his head back, grunting loudly.

“Fuck, baby.”

He stops at the back of your throat, looking down at you. He wipes some tears on your cheeks as you swallow around him. His dick twitches inside your mouth, but you know he’s not about to come.

Soon, perhaps, but not just yet.

“You’re okay?” he asks, because even though he’s pretty rough, he always does care about his partner too. 

He lets you pull away to catch your breath, releasing his tight hold on the belt too. You breathe raggedly, throat feeling raw from the intrusion.

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Good.” He licks his lips, offering you a dangerous chuckle. “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”

You nod, and he taps the tip of his dick against your sealed lips. You don’t remember shutting your mouth, so you open it wide again for him. He pushes forward, slowly, until all of it is embedded in your mouth, head pushing against the back of your throat. He remains unmoving long enough for you to gag, and then he pushes forward even more before pulling back.

When he starts fucking your mouth again, you know he’s chasing his high. So you fondle his balls, moan around his dick, try not to choke whenever he hits the back of your throat. Evidently, you still do sometimes, and tears roll down your cheeks by the time he growls, “Open your throat up for me, baby”.

You moan one last time, as he pushes all the way to the back of your mouth, grunting loudly as hot spurts of his cum fills your throat. As his dick twitches, he pulls out a little, and you know better than to swallow right away. So you patiently wait as he finishes, before fully pulling away. 

He grabs your jaw, and forces you to tilt your head back. “Open up.” You do, and he spits on top of his cum before saying, “Swallow”. You do that too, and the next time you open your mouth, it’s fully empty. Only then does he let go of your jaw, and he also quickly takes his belt off from around your neck, letting it drop to the floor.

It falls with a loud thump, and you breathe in deeply for the first time in a while. Your throat aches, and you massage your neck where the buckle left an indent in your skin. Concern grows on his features as you chuckle awkwardly, getting up from the floor.

Your knees are already hurting, and you know you’ll have bruises by the time you wake up tomorrow.

“Is your neck okay?” he asks.

You drop your hand, and his fingers ghost over the spot. “Yeah,” you reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He smirks, and then he captures your lips in another heated kiss. One of his hands moves between your thighs, and he feels your wetness, groaning in satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am.”

He licks at your mouth, before saying, “Too bad you won’t be getting some tonight, mmh?”

And he moves his hand away from your core to settle it on your waist instead.

“What?” you let out.

At this, he laughs, and it’s a little mean. “You think I’ll make you come when you’ve ghosted me for a few months?” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Nah, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.”

You want to curse him, but somehow it just turns you on further. “When can I see you again then?”

He ponders for a time, pulling away so he can meet your gaze. “What about next weekend?”

You’re disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “Any chance you’d be available during the week?”

“Maybe,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Will you be nice and not touch yourself until then?”

You bite at your bottom lip, nodding once. 

“Then yes, we can hang out this week,” he concludes. He frees your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before gently tapping your cheek. “But I’ve got to go now.”

It surprises you. Back when you were friends with benefits, you always stayed the night at his place, so you expected him to stay tonight. But he immediately steps away from you, putting his clothes back on quickly as you just stand there, naked and awkward.

“You’re leaving?”

He glances at you as he’s putting his belt back on. “Yeah, won’t have you think I’m into you like that again.”

It hurts just a tad little bit, but at the same time you agree with him. Not sleeping over is a good way to avoid feelings, so you decide to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater so you can walk him to the front door.

Hoseok kisses your forehead once when you get there, before grabbing his coat. You watch as he slides his arms in it, draping it on his shoulders before he bends down to put his shoes on too. When he straightens, he offers you a hug and you gladly embrace him as he wishes you good night.

You’re somehow confused as you shut the door behind him, and you stay there for a few seconds, almost expecting him to come back. He doesn’t, and you’re left heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth, only so you can get rid of the taste of him, and then you head to your bedroom.

And as you lie awake in bed, the only thing you can hope is that Jungkook didn’t hear you after all. You’re ashamed of what you did, but you’re far too tired to think about it deeply. All you can do is stare at the wall in front of you, hoping that sleep will take you.

It doesn’t, not until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky to liquid gold.

Teaser | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

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[latenightdaydreams]

First time Konig and reader have sex. But size kink😩😩😩😩 Reader is petite

https://twitter.com/kinulta/status/1765084505810117118?t=HH9h6rCAbx7MwYLdqcOorQ&s=19

I imagine reader is gonna be like this and Konig fucks us til we pass out

As a shorty, I live for size kink König🙏🏽

König x Petite!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, size difference, size kink, petite reader

1.6k word count

.

.

Being 6 '10, König usually dates women around 5’8- and up. They’re beautiful of course, but he has always wondered what it would be like to be with a tiny woman. Most of the interactions he’s had with small women have scared him; they’re incredibly fierce, and he is so awkward he freezes around them. Like an elephant with a mouse, he can’t explain it.

Then he meets you. On a random grocery shopping trip. He had to look all the way down to see your eyes, the top of your head reaching just below his chest. Instantly he became nervous, not knowing how to act. He wanted to make himself seem smaller and less intimidating since that’s all he is ever viewed as and you were so tiny.

Yet, you weren’t scared of him. You looked him right in the eyes and demanded he help you grab something from the top shelf, in a kind way of course.

“You have to help me; I can’t jump high enough.” You laughed and the sound gave König butterflies.

“Ja, sure, lead the way.” He was willing to follow you anywhere.

Two months later and you both have decided to make things official. He treats you like you’re made of glass, scared to even cuddle while sleeping because what if he rolls over on top of you? Other than oral sex and fingering, you both haven’t gone all the way yet. He is terrified his body weight will crush you or he will be too rough with your “delicate” body.

He can’t lie, he has always wondered what sex would be like with someone tiny, like 4’11-5’4, and now he has you. He’s watched a lot of porn of a tall big dick man absolutely dominating the smaller woman, but he never thought he’d be here. Seeing you in front of him makes him question the logistics of it all.

 König stands before you as you lie naked on the bed. He looks at your body before shifting his gaze down and rolling the condom down his length. A wave of nervousness rushes over him, mixed with excitement as he sees your hand go between your legs and begin to rub your pussy. His eyes slowly trail up your body to meet your eyes again.

“Are you sure you are ready?”

“Absolutely.” You’ve been begging for weeks; you aren’t going to back down now.

König smirks and walks to you, standing at the edge of the bed, looking at how your fingers circle your clit.

“How should we…start?”

“How you would with anyone.” You begin to laugh.

König blushes and lays on the bed beside you, “Come here.”

You smile and crawl over to him, straddling his hips. His eyes are drawn to your small body over his, keeping his hands to the side so as to not hurt you. He watches as you grab his cock and slowly lower yourself down on to him. König lets out a soft moan and grabs the sheets, refraining from grabbing you and pushing you down more.

“Fuck…” König drops his head back and closes his eyes.

At first you slowly bounce yourself on him, letting yourself get adjusted to his size. Watching him as he reacts to feeling his thick cock be swallowed whole by your tight little cunt. You put your hands behind you on his thighs as you move your legs so your feet are flat on the bed.

Slowly his hips begin to thrust up into you, he opens his eyes and leans his head forward to look down at you. Your breasts bouncing as your eyebrows are pinched from the pleasure, your eyes meet. He can’t help but to reach out and rest one hand on your breast and the other on your hip. He grips you tightly and begins to assist in your bouncing, making you speed up.

“Fucking ride that cock…” He lightly slaps your ass.

Both of your moans fill the room as you begin to slam down hard on him. He begins to feel himself want to fuck you harder, it scares him so he holds you still.

“Wait,” He is breathing heavily, “I- wait.”

“Are you about to cum?”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Jesus, König, you won’t!”

“Lay on your side.” He ignores your attitude and watches as you pull yourself up from his cock, it falls forward onto his stomach. The condom covered in your creamy white arousal. He wishes he could go in raw.

You lay on your side and look over your shoulder as he adjusts his big body behind yours. He gets close to you, grasping his cock as he rubs it along your wet folds. He pushes his hips forward slightly, feeling his tip slip in. He lifts your ass cheek up with his hand to push in easier, looking down and watching your pretty lips stretch to accommodate him. He places his huge hand on your waist, and begins to buck forward into your cunt lightly.

Your eyes still locked onto his as he fucks you, he leans in and kisses your lips softly before moaning and resting his head back on the pillow. You begin to push back into him every time he thrust in. The supple flesh of your ass bouncing with every hit.

“Please fuck me.” You beg, the arm you’re resting on outstretched and holding on to the blanket.

“Ja.” He moves his hand from your waist to spank your ass lightly again. His hand goes back as he begins to pick up his pace.

“Oh my god your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy.” You moan out in a pathetic voice.

“Mhm.” Your dirty talk is breaking him down as all he can think of is making you scream his name.

He closes his eyes again and tries to focus as your pussy squeezes him. He feels your hand fall on his face gently and caress his check, sending a chill down his spine.

“Please fuck me harder.”

He opens his eyes and looks at the side of your face as your head is turned. His eyes travel down your body and shit…he can’t hold back anymore.

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!”

“Beg.” He growls.

“Please, please pound my pussy.” The new tone in his voice is something you’ve never heard from him before, and it excites you.

König lets out a loud groan as he holds your waist so tightly, he leaves red marks as he begins to slam his cock inside you repeatedly. You’re not able to catch your breath as the sound of flesh hitting flesh and your wet cunt is all that can be heard. Finally a loud moan escapes your lips and you move your hand from his face to his arm and hold it.

“Oh- fuck! König!”

“Scream my fucking name.”

He rams his cock into you so hard you feel a slight bit of pain, but you know if you say something he will never do it again so you stay silent.

“König!” Your nails dig into his arm, his hand holds you tighter. He can feel your pussy begin to squeeze his cock as you begin to babble as if you forgot how to speak.

“Just like that, cum on my cock.”

You move your hand from his arm and twist your upper half more to look at him. His blue eyes gazing down at you with a primal lust.  Moving his hand from your waist, he grasps your neck and holds lightly. Your bodies covered in sweat; he doesn’t stop relentlessly pounding his sensitive cock into you.

Slowly you feel yourself begin to see that euphoric build up again, your vision going double as you feel light headed.

“God- König.” You manage to mumble out as your body begins to shake.

König moves his hand from your neck to lift your leg, shifting his body to be now on top of yours as you stay on your side. With your leg on his shoulder and his body straddling your leg, he is able to shove his cock in even deeper.

“I want to feel you raw Liebling.” He moans kissing your leg as he pushes in deep and pulls out slowly.

In a dick daze you nod your head, agreeing to no condom. Quickly, König pulls out and yanks the tip of the condom, tossing it off the bed. Slowly he begins to push his cock back inside. The textured feeling of your warm gummy walls welcoming his cock was too much. Putting his fist into the mattress, he begins to roll his hips harshly fucking you. You moan out in a scream holding on to his arm. He gives you no time to even catch your breath. König watches your eyes roll back into your head as your body goes limp, but moans still leaving your lips.

“Don’t tap out on my now Liebling, I’m not done.”

He sits up and drags your hips closer to him, wrapping his arms around your leg and not letting up on his pace. König doesn’t stop until you stop moaning. Breathing heavy, he puts your leg down and leans over you.

“Schatz?” He grabs your jaw and turns you to face him. You don’t reply.

He feels for a pulse, you’re still alive. He pulls out and runs to get a washcloth and runs it under cold water, rushing back to you. He places it on your head and caresses your face, gently kissing you.

“I knew I was too rough…” He whispers to himself.

A cocky little grin on his lips because he fucked you so hard you passed out. He will forever tell this story.

#konig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader smut #konig x you #könig x you #x reader #cod smut #könig x reader smut #smut #size k!nk #size difference #könig x y/n

[gallusrostromegalus]

So I may have been browsing through your AEIWAM tag and came across your writing of Komamura saying it's too hot in summer when you have a fur coat you can't take off. By that logic he's gonna always be sitting beside Hitsugaya in Captain meetings if he can swing it, especially in the early days, cause that boy is like a mini air conditioner next to him. XD

Wolves are winter creatures. The double coat, the snowshoe paws, the proclivity for cuddlepiles- if Sajin could move somewhere that never got above 40F he'd be in heaven. Alas, he lives in a major city that hits triple digits in the summer, so he keeps close track of the little pieces of winter he can find.

The first person to realize his little game was Unohana. She knew about the wolfman thing- Yamamoto trusts her as much as Sasakibe, and persuaded Sajin that, should a medical emergency arise, it should not also be a medical surprise.

She is of course, the pinnacle of Medical Confidentiality.

...but his name came up during one of the Shinigami Women's Association meetings/boozing sessions, and a distinct schism appeared.

On one side was Soi Fon, Nanao, and Herself, who all found Komamura to be very polite, professional and reliable if somewhat reticent and at times, aloof.

"I swear I can't get more than three words out of him!" Nanao despairs.

"I like him. He knows how to Shut Up." Soi Fon agrees.

"He's a very private man." Unohana nods.

Across the table, Isane and Rukia are baffled.

"Captain Komamura? Ten feet tall, bucket head? That Komamura?" Rukia the so-called Ice Princess asks, gesturing to indicate their height disparity. "What the fuck are you talking about? He's SUPER friendly and will hang around to talk FOREVER."

"Yeah, every time I go to the 7th he always asks me to stay for lunch and wants to know how everyone in my family is doing and swap horror stories from the ER for tales of crazy people in the intake queue." Agrees Isane, wielder of the ice cloud Itegumo. "It's embarrassing, but one time I was more than two hours late getting back because we get to talking!"

Everyone stares at everyone else, baffled.

"Did- did I do something to piss him off?" Wonders Nanao.

"Huh. Maybe he just picked up on how much I hate small talk on the job?" Soi Fon shrugs.

Unohana is silent, thinking.

"GUESS WHO BROUGHT TEQUILA!!" Matsumoto Rangiku announces as she kicks in the door, holding four bottles of liquor, only three of which were still full.

"We need you to settle a debate!" Rukia demands at once.

"Ooh! I love passing judgement on things that don't effect me!" Rangiku coos, sitting down, her chest making an odd 'clunk' sound on the table "- there's also salt and limes!"

"It kinda effects you." Soi Fon waved her hand noncommittally. "How would you describe Captain Komamura?"

"Tall, Heavily Armored and Mysterious?" Rangiku shrugs, pulling the box of kosher salt out of her cleavage.

"...more like his personality." Isane clarified.

"Oh! Uhh... You know what? He's one of the few people that's ever complimented me on streamlining like 80% of the paperwork we have to do." Rangiku nodded, fishing the limes out as well. "Always has stuff done waaaay before I expected and I feel like a bit of a jerk for not replying immediately, but never complains if my stuff comes in late."

"Does he hang around and talk, or is he just really businesslike?" Nanao asks, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"Hmm..." Fowns Rangiku. "Kinda varies by the day- Sometimes he's all business, other times he'll stay and chat. I always assumed he wants to talk but sometimes he's got work, you know?"

There is much confused muttering as the limes are cut, when Unohana raises a finger.

"...How is he with Lieutenant Hitsugaya?" She asks.

"Oh, he ADORES Toshiro!" Rangiku nods enthusiastically, salting her shot glass. "He actually does the majority of Toshiro's Bankai training now because The Old Man handed it off to him so he could focus on teaching Zaraki Everything But Kendo- which, bless him for doing that, Shiro-kin could literally freeze my tits off!- and he really does a good job listening to Toshiro's concerns and confusions- he's a sensitive boy, you know? And Koma-kun is so gentle with him and to be honest I always eavesdrop on his advice because I could use it too. Delightful man all around." She nodded, and moved to down her drink.

"...Why?" She asked, pausing her drink and glaring suspiciously at Unohana.

Unohana nods with the clarity of enlightenment. "Nothing serious, but everything makes sense now." She smiles, then cracks into a small giggle. "It's rather charming, actually."

"Care to elaborate?" Soi Fon grumbles.

"Yeah that answered NOTHING." Rangiku glares.

"We noticed an interesting disparity in his behavior." Unohana explains, pushing her own glass towards Rangiku to fill. "For me, Captain Fon, and Lieutenant Ise, Komamura-Taicho is very polite, but sticks to the matter at hand and will not volunteer any further conversation. For Lieutenant Koetetsu, Miss Kuchiki and apparently Lieutenant Hitsugaya, he has all the time in the world and is quite the chatterbox."

"...Weird." Rangiku frowns, intrigued by the puzzle. "For me it's like, half and half?"

"Not quite, I think." Unohana smirks. "What do Isane, Rukia and young Toshiro all have in common?"

The Resounding Silence of Thinking Very Hard around the table was a bit of a disappointment, but they were about three bottles into the evening already.

"Can't be Height." Nanao hummed. "Rukia and Shiro-Kun are shorter than a stack of pancakes but Isane's got legs that are too long for the cover of Vouge."

"Isane and Toshiro are both silver-haired, but not me, and he doesn't seem to be particularly close to Ukitake-Taicho and I think I've actually seen him run out of a room to avoid Gin." Rukia puzzled.

"What? RUDE." Rangiku protested.

"They're all under a century old, right?" Rangiku pondered.

"No, I'm almost two hundred!" Isane sighed. "Oh wait- we all graduated early from the Academy!"

"Ehhhh, I graduated because I got adopted, I'm not a genius like you and Shiro-kun." Rukia waved. "Also, how would HE know that?"

"You're all Lieutenants!" Rangiku perked up.

"Not yet I'm not!" Rukia protested.

"Pfsh- you run half the division anyway. Jushiro should promote you to Co-lieutenant with Kaien already!" Rangiku waved.

"Its- it's complicated." Rukia mumbled. "Also, Nanao-chan is a Lieutenant and he doesn't like her!"

"Does it have to do with how freakishly huge he is?" Soi Fon asked.

"...Yes, actually." Unohana decided. Sajin might not have so much trouble thermoregulating if he was the size of a regular wolf. She reasoned privately.

"Also, He likes Nanao-chan just fine as far as I know. I think it's less about how much he enjoys your company- which I think he does, he's not one for putting on facades- and more about how much he enjoys your Proximity." She clarified, taking her shot. "Oh, this is good, what is it?"

"Cabrito Blanco." Rangiku read off. "Huh. The Cabrito on the label sure ain't Blanco." She frowned at the brown goat.

"None of us have transferred out of the Division we started in, but again, how would he know? and that hasn't got anything to do with Proximity..." Isane frowned.

Rukia slammed her glass down. "WOW that's got a kick. Maybe uhhhh... None of us wear perfume, but Gin doesn't either. I hope. I don't want to get close enough to find out."

"He's really not that bad-" Rangiku sulked. "OH, 'Blanco' refers to the tequila and this is that goat's white tequila!" She realized.

"Sometimes I wish I could take a weekend vacation in your brain. Its machinations fascinate me." Soi Fon teased. "Hmmm... Lotta close but no Cigar, you're all young-ish, Isane and Toshiro have living relatives and Rukia has a large adopted family, but again, not exclusive or Proximal. You're also all S-rank duelists with- OH!"

"Shh, I'm enjoying the flailing." Retsu grinned.

"Pfff- okay, that is kinda cute and I don't blame him." Soi Fon giggled. "Sometimes I'm real glad my seat is right next to The Old Man for the same reason. Or opposite reason, I guess."

"Bwah?" Rangiku frowned.

"I do the same thing with You, Momo and The Old Man that He's doing with them." Soi Fon grinned. Rangiku frowned, peculiar machinations grinding slowly through the tequila, before she suddenly cackled, head thrown back so hard Unohana had to reach out and grab her by the scarf to keep her from tipping her chair over.

"OH NOOOOOOOO!!" She wailed, shoulders shaking. "Oh- that's cute but Toshiro can NEVER find out he'll be such a brat about it!"

"Sorry I'm late, I had to finish the latest report on the Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Investigation!" Momo panted, jogging in late. "-What can't Toshiro find out about?"

"There is SOMETHING that You, ran-chan and Yamamoto-sama share, and it's the same thing but backwards as what Me, Hitsugaya, and Isane have in common that Komamura-taicho really likes it or something, and THEY know but won't TELL US and its MAKING ME CRAZY!" Rukia wailed.

Momo stood, expression blank for a few moments. "Wait. You didn't know?"

"KNOW WHAT?" Rukia wailed.

"That Komamura hangs around with people with Ic-Mmpf!" Momo started to reveal but was abruptly tackled and the rest of the sentence smothered in Rangiku's Cleavage.

"With WHAT?" Nanao demanded. "What do they have that I don't?"

"-Hang on." Isane frowned, the slowly turned to her captain, squinting. "Is. Is this a... Physics Issue?"

"That's one way to phrase it." Unohana smiled as Momo flailed for air.

"Oh my Gooooood..." Isane groaned. "Why doesn't he just ASK? I'd happily go over and give Itegumo some practice, I hate summertime too!"

"Huh?" Rukia glared, as Momo finally fought her way free and gasped for air.

"Itegumo? That's your- ohhhhhhh." Nanao realized. "That's. Okay yeah that's actually really cute." She giggled. "Poor guy. The armor can't help with that, can it?"

"That's what I keep telling him but it's-" Unohana waved her hands and grimaced with frustration. "-He wears the armor because he's facing the *stupidest* form of Political Persecution I've ever heard of." she sighed.

"Really?" Asked Momo. "Captain Tousen said Komamura told him it's because he's got a major disfigurement or something?"

Unohana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Komamura is FINE, he's just- It's complicated and medically private but trust me, the helmet is a reasonable precaution against an absurd problem."

"Oh." Momo winced. "Well, I'm glad he's medically alright at least!" "I'm so fucking confused." Rukia whimpered, deflating over the table in despair. "Is. Is hanging out with me making him less sick or something??"

"...Yes!" Unohana smiled. "Or at least, makes his condition more physically comfortable."

Rukia turned that over a few times. "...Talking with him is helping?"

"Yes, but only if you're in the same room with him. Doesn't work over the phone." Unohana nodded.

"Okay." Rukia said, reaching for the nearest bottle. "Lets talk about something else."

---

Years Later, after the Bedlam of her attempted execution and Subsequent Rescue, Rukia finally saw Komamura's face.

It was a bit awkward, walking into the hospital room in search of her brother to find a nine-and-a-half foot tall wolfman wearing the Seventh Division Captain's Haori visiting Momo. It took her a moment to realize who he was, and another as some neurons connected and she squawked indignantly, pointing at him.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Kuchiki, but-" He sighed, ears flattening back against his head with Chargin.

"AIR CONDITIONING?!?!" She bellowed.

Komamura scrunched back, chagrined. For a massive apex predator, he did an excellent Kicked Puppy face.

"Rukia!" Momo protested faintly from her hospital bed. "Keep your voice down, I don't want Toshiro to find out!"

"Find out what?" Hitsugaya grunted, stepping out from behind Rukia.

"Ah, Well-" Komamura started to explain.

Rukia rounded on Hitsugaya, pointing behind her at the captain. "THIS JACKASS HAS BEEN EXTRA NICE TO YOU, ME AND ISANE BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE ICE-TYPE ZANPAKUTO AND CHILL THE AIR AROUND US!"

"...Summer is very uncomfortable when you have a fur coat you can't take off." Komamura winced.

"Uh, duh?" Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, strolling into the room. "I didn't know you were chilling Koetetsu and Kuchiki here as well, but I kinda figured you enjoyed the cold when you stayed at my Bankai training like, five times longer than Gramps ever did."

"My apologies for the deception." Komamura bowed his head.

"It's no big deal." Hitsugaya shrugged, putting a hand up to indicate he wanted help up onto the hospital bed, and Komamura obliged.

"See? I use you being tall too." he smirked.

Komamura sighed fondly as the boy sat down between him and Momo. "Momo makes me chill all her juice too, but she never seems to warm up my tea." he handed her a juice box from the vending machine down the hall, covered in condensation.

"It would explode." Momo grumbled.

"Skill Issue." He shrugged and she affectionately swatted him on the leg. "Anyway, don't dogs cool off through their paws?"

"I'm from a wolf clan, but yes." Komamura cocked his head with curiosity, then alarm when Toshiro casually grabbed his forearm and started tugging his Gauntlets off.

"I don't mind being a human ice pack, especially not when it's nintey-eight freakin' degrees out, but be efficient about it, yeah?" Toshiro grumbled, tossing the gauntlet aside and plopping Komamura's pawlike hand on top of his head.

"...Thank you." Komamura smiled gently, and ruffled his hair a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hitsugaya shrugged, playing the tough guy even as his ears turned red. "At least you're polite about it! Freakin' Zaraki literally just grabbed me- like, put his whole arm through the office window! and threw me over his shoulders once. Jerk."

"TOSHIRO!" Momo yelped, hand on her face. "You almost made juice come out of my nose!" She half-giggled while Rukia snort-laughed at the mental image.

"Hey Kuchiki!" Hitsugaya growled. "He's got two paws!"

"You can't boss me around! You don't outrank me anymore!" She grinned.

"I have seniority." he teased, and the bed started to shake as Komamura tried not to laugh.

"You really don't need to-" Komamura tried to diffuse the argument. His voice was rock-steady but the wide grin betrayed him.

"You gotta follow my orders though!" Ukitake said cheerfully, appearing in the door. "Hi Lieutenant Hinamori!"

"C-captain!" Rukia yelped, spinning around to Salute. "What are your orders, Sir?

"Shh, nothing's happening. But I did hear you squawking from two floors down, so what's happening?" Ukitake smiled down at her.

"Captain Komamura has APPARENTLY been hanging around me and the other Shinigami with Ice Zanpakuto and using us as Air Conditioners!" Rukia glared up at her commanding officer.

"...Rukia," Ukitake patted her head and smiled gently. "Do you remember where Lieutenant Kaien's desk was?"

"Second door on the left, right next to your office, Sir!" She nodded.

"Right! And where's your desk?" Ukitake asked, leaning in closer to her.

Rukia blinked, confused. "...It's immediately adjacent to your desk in your offi- GOD DAMMIT! NOT YOU TOO?"

"Yep!" Ukitake cheerfully patted her head and then palmed it to turn her around to face Komamura. "Hop to it!"

"Technically, I got the Idea from him, when I saw how he'd rearranged the furniture..." Komamura whispered as he helped her up onto the bed as well and Rukia groaned in defeat, settling next to Komamura where she could sulk at her captain from over the wolfman's broad shoulders.

"Oh, stop pouting!" Ukitake teased, sitting down on the chair beside Momo's bed and leaning back. "It'll be winter soon enough. Actually, Your friend Mr. Yasutora told me about a fascinating wintertime holiday in the Living World-"

#Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #sajin komamura #toshiro hitsugaya #Momo Hinamori #rukia kuchiki #retsu unohana #LONG post under the cut #2.5K ficlet really

[gyuzgrl]

too sweet //lsm//

summary- when Jeonghan brings up BDSM at dinner, your boyfriend is keen on trying it out for himself. you laugh it off, telling him he doesn't have the stomach for it, and he decides to show you just how capable he is in bed.

Crystal-chandeliered ceilings, a live cello performance, a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee- 1945; you're in the lap of luxury. After a particularly long week, your boyfriend decided to organize a 'little' get-together to get your mind off work. Something small, he said. Just a little dinner with Jeonghan and Hoshi- nothing much.

That's how you find yourself here- seated in one of the best restaurants in Seoul, surrounded by friends, donned in a dress so stunning it would've killed a small Victorian child.

Earlier on in the relationship, you used to get awkward in places like this, wondering how much it cost, trying to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but now? Now you've grown accustomed to Dokyeom's treats. It's how he shows his love for you- among many other ways- so who are you to say no?

"and yeah- we fucked." Hoshi states, mouth full of food as Dokyeom's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

Jeonghan giggles, turning around to see if anyone heard, and shakes his head.

"and?"

"and-" Hoshi continues, prodding a bit of beef with his fork, "and it was like painfully vanilla,"

You watch as Jeonghan's face contorts into a disapproving frown, and sip at your wine, praying to whoever's listening that your sweet, baby boy doesn't open his mouth to ask any questions.

But of course, you've never had much luck with the universe, have you?

"like ice cream?"

Aghast, the older man turns to Dokyeom.

"dude..."

When the inquisitive, wide-eyed stare doesn't leave his face, you cut in, clearing your throat.

"c'mon don't be like that- you know how he is Han"

Your boyfriend shifts his gaze to you, now wondering how you of all people know what his hyungs are talking about.

A sheepish, watery smile paints your face as you reach for your glass, taking another sip.

The air stills for a minute, awkward pauses flooding the space while Hoshi and Jeonghan share knowing glances.

They turn to you, flashing you those up-to-no-good grins, before fixing their attention to your poor boyfriend.

"alright buddy," Jeonghan starts, reaching out to grasp Dokyeom's shoulder, "lemme teach you about sex."

Immediately, you see the tips of his ears burn red. Poor thing.

"why are we uh, why're we talking about sex?"

"cause you still think we're talkin' about ice cream" Hoshi sneers. You shoot him a glare, and his shrinks back.

Ever the explorer, Dokyeom chimes in again, turning to you this time.

"we're not talking about ice cream? what are we-"

"sex." Jeonghan whispers, voice taking on a mock-sultry tone. He turns to you,

"what's he like in bed?"

"hey!-"

"he seems vanilla now, so I'm guessing it's basic shit" he continues, eyes narrowing in on you.

Suddenly you feel conscious of your surroundings. A nice evening out has somehow turned into a free-for-all analysis of your sex life, and your most intimate moments with Dokyeom have come under the looking glass.

"y-yeah, we're vanilla"

"oh you poor thing," Hoshi fakes a sob, bringing his hand to his chest as if your house caught on fire.

"don't be like that- some people prefer vanilla y'know?"

Some people, sure.

Not you, though.

As much as you love how Dokyeom makes you feel, you have to admit, he's a little, well... basic. It's the same old scene, classic p-in-v sex, sometimes he goes down on you, sometimes you do him, nothing apart from that.

Not that it doesn't feel good- it feels amazing- but you've always wanted something more. Something you're sure he won't be able to pull off.

"uhuh, I'm sure they do," Jeonghan muses, seeing right through you.

"what are we even talking abou-"

"sex!" all three of you whisper-shout in unison, starling Dokyeom.

"but- vanilla?"

"it's classic, like your basic animal-planet kinda sex" Jeonghan's voice turns serious, brows set in a firm line. "there's more than that, though"

Hoshi watches intently, moving a bit of bread to his mouth in slow motion, as the scene unravels before him. You find yourself equally invested, eyes fixed on Dokyeom's wonderstruck expression.

"there's more?" he gasps.

"oh you bet- d'you know what BDSM is?"

Your mouth goes bone dry.

"I think so? it's the stuff with the knives and leather and like latex-"

Jeonghan shoots you a quick glance, mouthing 'you're welcome', before moving back to the man next to him.

"that's not- it's not all intense and gory... there's layers to it, kay?"

Dokyeom nods, eyes shimmering.

"BDSM as a concept is deeper than just leather and blood. B and D stands for bondage and discipline, D and S stands for dominance and submission, and S and M stands for sadism and masochism-"

"so that's what Rhianna was talking about-" he cuts in, jaw falling slack as he listens further.

"each of these can come out in different ways- bondage could include cuffs, rope, shibari, or y'know whatever material you have on hand. discipline is meant in its literal sense- you do things to teach your partner the quote-unquote rules of sex, which could include spanking, using gags for punishment or doing things they like for reward. Sadism and masochism basically play on pain. Sadists like to cause it, masochists like to feel it- again, many ways to do this."

Hoshi stares in awe as Jeonghan concludes, putting his fork down to clap.

"wait- what about dominance?"

A sly smile quirks up Jeonghan's lips.

"oh that."

You swallow at the lump settling at the back of your throat, unable to tear your gaze away from your boyfriend's face- so eager, so fascinated by what he's heard.

"it's the premise of what all this is; discipline, sadism, bondage, it's all built on power play. One of you is in control and the other follows, letting themselves be controlled, it-"

"what about consent?"

Oh sweet, sweet boy.

"that's where safe words come into play. I use the traffic light system, so if my partner says green it means they're feeling good, if they say yellow, they're still okay but I need to slow down, and if they say red, they want me to stop"

"huh."

Dokyeom sits still for a minute, eyes glued to the plate sitting in front of him, and you can practically hear his brain churning to process all that he's learnt.

As the night goes on, he seems quieter than usual, staring at you, absorbing information, listening to what's being spoken about around him. Every time you turn to the side you meet his gaze- intense, preoccupied.

Dinner comes to a close with him shoving his shiny black credit card into the waiter's hands before anyone else beat him to it, and soon, you find yourselves saying your goodbyes, heading to the car.

Dokyeom opens your door, making sure you're seated, and moves over to the driver's seat.

"you don't- do you like how things are now?" Out of nowhere, his voice sounds in your ears, catching you off guard.

You look at him, surprise etched in the rise of your brow, and shake your head furiously.

"of course I do! baby, I love how things are with us, I love you"

He sighs, turning on the ignition, and begins to drive.

"not like that, honey, I meant physically,"

The blank look on your face has his cheeks burning as he works up the courage to say it.

"sex, y/n" he says, a little louder than before, "do you like the way we do things now?"

Oh.

You hadn't expected the conversation from earlier to stick with him, but evidently, it has. A shiver runs through you when he says it- sex. He's never brought it up so unambiguously before. It feels dirty, somehow, even though you've laid with him multiple times.

"I-"

"be honest, honey, okay?"

The earnest, gentle tone of his voice has your heart softening. He really is too pure for this world.

"I mean, I love the way we are now," you mutter, eyes focused on your lap as you pick at your nails, "you make me feel good"

Technically you aren't lying to him- you're just choosing to keep some things hidden. Dokyeom doesn't need to know that you've spent your nights thinking about his fingers buried deep inside you, forcing you to cum again and again until you're sobbing and shaking. He doesn't need to know you've been fantasizing about his arms, wondering how they'd feel pushing you down, leaving you helpless, completely at his mercy.

He's a nice guy, after all. They don't usually like stuff like that. And even if they think they like stuff like that, they don't have the stomach for it.

One stray teardrop and Dokyeom will be on his knees, apologizing profusely, crying along with you as he chastises himself.

"I'm not convinced," he sighs, shoulders slouching against his leather seats. "if this is about protecting my feelings-"

"no! no- not at all baby,"

"so tell me- I know you, I know when you've got something hidden away in that pretty head of yours"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, you find yourself in a bit of a dilemma. Should you be honest with him and take your chances? Or should you pacify him and convince him that plain old vanilla lovin' is all you need?

"I-"

"baby," he soothes, voice gentle, "I just wanna make sure I'm doing the best I can for you,"

A car passes you by, blaring loud pop music, and he breaks into a sheepish smile.

"there's a lot I didn't know before today- stuff that you knew about... so I just- I'm checking. If there's something you'd like me to do, someone you'd like me to be, I wanna try"

"oh,"

You stay silent for a bit, thinking over what to say. Sure, telling him that you're actually a submissive and you hate taking charge is simple, but the execution part leaves you tongue-tied. Someone as sweet and innocent as Dokyeom wouldn't be able to handle taking control.

Nothing against him, it's just that he's so cute and naive- there's no way he'd be able to restrain you and make you cry.

"there's one thing..." you mutter, voice so meek you're barely audible.

His ears perk up.

"y'know the dom-sub thing Hannie spoke about?"

"uhuh, one of us is in control and the other one listens,"

"yeah, I kinda, uh- I tend to lean towards being controlled rather than being in control"

"oh, we can do that if you like, baby" he chirps, twisting the steering wheel as he pulls into your apartment, "we can try whatever you want,"

There's a smile on his face- that same shining, star-studded gaze, eyes crinkling, teeth on full display- and you feel your heart sink.

You'll just have to make do with vanilla for the rest of your days.

The lift ride up is tense. You chew on your lower lip, tapping your heel impatiently against the ground as you move higher and higher, finally reaching your house.

Dokyeom keys in the passcode, unlocking the door, and you stumble inside, rushing to the bathroom for a bit of space.

Locking the door behind you, you stare at yourself in the mirror, worry etched in the crease of your forehead. Your face is beet red, pupils blown wide, and your throat feels dry.

All that talk about the bedroom has you feeling a little jumpier than usual and you can't help the way your brain automatically shifts to its usual Dokyeom fantasy- tied up helplessly in bed as he eats you out over and over, saying the filthiest things known to man.

God, the things you'd let him do to you...

His nose is built just right, bumping into your clit perfectly as he eats you out, tongue lapping up your arousal from your past orgasms. Those long, slim fingers would be splayed across your thighs, forcing your legs open, even when your body spasms, begging for an intermission.

'snap out of it- Christ' you tell yourself, shooing away any wandering thoughts as you unlock the door and head into your bedroom.

"everything okay, honey?"

You curse the universe when your eyes are greeted by his broad frame, standing by your dresser as he clicks his watch open, shaking it off his wrist in a few crisp motions.

"y-yeah I'm-" you cut yourself off when he begins to fold his shirtsleeves up, dragging the white fabric up around his elbow, putting his forearms on display. The way his veins frame the shape of his arms so perfectly, peeking out just enough, has you growing restless with desire, and you feel your face grow hot.

"baby?"

When you stay silent, he eyes you through the mirror, making sure you're still listening, and continues-

"I was thinking about what you said in the car, and I think we should give it a try"

Before you can stop it from happening, your lips part, letting a taunting laugh slip past them. Dokyeom halts his actions.

"why's that funny?"

"it's not! I just uh-" you nibble at your lower lip, trying desperately to conceal the smile perking up the corners of your lips, "I appreciate you saying that, but we really don't have to do things you won't be comfortable with,"

"how d'you know I won't be comfortable?"

You sigh, walking over to him.

"Kyeommie, you're a really great guy- you're sweet, you're kind, you're funny- and I love those things about you,"

"uhuh"

"it's just that you're too sweet, y'know? You won't be able to handle the stuff I'm into, baby"

His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut in, sugarcoating your words as much as you can.

"being nice isn't a bad thing at all, okay- don't get me wrong. I love you exactly as you are, so there's no need to make yourself uncomforta-"

"you think I can't do it, don't you?"

His voice is low, dripping with a kind of venom you've never heard from him before. You reach out, moving your hand to soothe over his shoulder, but he catches your wrist, pulling you into him.

"Dok-"

"I may be slow, I may not understand the things you do as easily" he sneers, his grip tightening, "but I know my way around your body-"

"I know I can make you feel good."

He inches closer, nose bumping against yours, and you let out a shaky sigh. Your heart thuds rapidly against your chest, banging against the confines of your ribs so noisily you're sure Dokyeom can hear it.

You've never heard him speak like this before, never seen his eyes flood with such darkness. The once glittering light in his pupils has now dimmed to a darker, lust-filled ocean, void of mercy.

The expanse of his broad shoulders shield you from the front, and a hand slides down your arm, resting at the curve of your back, trapping you in his hold.

"what is it that you want from me, hm?" he mumbles, angling your chin up towards his face, "want me to take control- be a little aggressive?"

Your breath catches, and you stare up at him, eyes wide. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd hear him talk this way, with his voice all low and mean. The way he holds you too, it's different from before. There's no gentle embrace, no tentative grip- no, he's sure right now. There's a certainty with which he holds you, a forcefulness he would've once been afraid of.

"tell me," he whispers as he walks you backward, heading for the bed, "tell me what you want and I'll make you feel good,"

With each step forward he takes in your direction, you take one back, staring up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Is this really the same guy from two hours ago?

His gaze pierces through you, challenging you as if to say- 'try me, I dare you.' It's simultaneously intimidating, yet somehow exciting, and you feel a familiar heat spread in your lower belly.

Like some sort of predator, dead set on catching its prey, Dokyeom stalks toward you, moving further and further, until your calves make contact with the bed.

He smirks.

You've been caught.

"what's wrong, honey?" a faux pout graces his lips, "you were saying so much a minute ago-"

You gasp as he closes in, leaving no room for anything but your body and his. The hand on your face leaves your chin, and he traces a finger down your throat, stopping just below the divot of your collarbones, lingering over the hem of your dress.

There's an evil glint in his eye and you watch, waiting patiently to see what he does next.

"strip."

Certain you heard him wrong, you stay still, staring up at him dumbly.

"oh, we don't feel like listening today?" he quirks a brow at you, loosening his grip on your waist as he lets his hand travel up your back, "either you do it- or I'll do my fucking self."

On beat, he thumbs the zipper of your dress and tugs it down in one sharp motion, leaving you stunned. The fabric falls slack against your body, loosening at your neckline just enough to give Dokyeom a peek of what lies underneath.

He trails his finger down your clavicle, pushing your dress down to reveal the lacey surface of your bra- the fabric flimsy and transparent, letting your nipples poke through.

"someone's excited," he bites his lips, smirking down at your hardened nipples. "you wanna take this off for me, baby?"

His voice is raspy, taunting almost, and your body obeys, arms hastily undoing your bra as you shimmy out of your dress. You should feel embarrassed, getting naked so desperately like some sex-hungry nympho, but you don't.

The arousal pooling in between your legs is far too distracting to leave any room for humility or shame.

Dressed pooled at your ankles, bra tossed aside, you stand bare before him.

Teasingly, Dokyeom lets the pad of his extended finger trace down your chest as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips part- ever so slightly- bracing for impact. You feel his breath fanning across your face as his presence nears, skin almost touching yours, before he sends a sharp tweak to your nipple, pulling away with a devilish grin.

Jolting at the sudden stimulation, you gasp, eyes opening wide. There's a current running down your body, stemming from the spot he abused seconds ago, and you feel it land in your clit.

You want to argue, to call him an idiot and tell him to kiss you proper- to quit teasing- but you know you like this. The way he's got you all figured out, the way he so effortlessly gets you to bend to his will, god this is what you've been waiting for.

"get on the bed."

The firmness of his voice tells you to bite your tongue and acquiesce, but there's something deep inside of you that wants to see how far you can push him.

"don't wanna"

He pauses for a second, looking into your eyes-

"do you actually want to stop or are you just being difficult?"

"the latter," you singsong, staring up at him with a challenge dancing behind your eyes.

There's a moment of silence as he prods his cheek with the tip of his tongue, taking in what you've just said. His blood boils at the mockery in your voice, eyes hardening to a cold brown.

"brat." he spits, clenching his jaw.

In one forceful motion, Dokyeom yanks you towards himself, lifting you up by the thighs before tossing you onto the mattress behind.

"baby-!" You can't help but squeal as he manhandles you effortlessly, showing you just how strong he really is. Your body lands with a dull thump on the bed, sinking deep into your duvet as he stares daggers into your sprawled out frame.

"sit still."

Dokyeom steps back, standing before you at the foot of the bed, and keeps his eyes on yours. A sly hand creeps up his neck, fingers weaving into the intricate knot of his tie, and he pulls it loose, tossing the silk fabric near your feet.

Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, his hand travels down to his belt, clicking the buckle open with ease. The metal comes apart in his hand, loosening with a single flick of his wrist, and you feel your mouth begin to water.

He looked sinful. With his sleeves rolled up- biceps straining through the fabric, the way his chest peeked out tauntingly through his shirt, how his eyes bore into yours, not breaking contact for an instant- it made you want to scream.

The sound of metal clanking pulls you from your thoughts, and you realise that he's shucked off his trousers, leaving himself in his CK black boxers and a partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Kyeommie," you pout, reaching an arm out towards him, "c'mere"

It takes every bit of his strength to keep himself from crumbling instantly, but he manages it with a firm shake of his head.

"thought I told you to stay still, hm?"

You frown, your pout still evident, and turn away with a huff.

"I'm taking this off, y'know," he teases, plucking open the buttons of his shirt, and you feel your attitude fade to dust as you turn back to him in an instant.

Who wouldn't? After all, he does have the body of a God.

As he undoes his last button, you're greeted by his sculpted torso, tanned to perfection.

Dokyeom smirks, ego inflating at your star-struck reaction as if you haven't seen him like before.

"every single time," he mutters, shaking his head in amusement.

Before long, the shirt is discarded to some remote corner of the room, and he stands before you, nearly bare.

"where were we..."

Grabbing your ankles, he tugs you down till your hips reach the foot of the bed. A startled gasp escapes you at his actions and he can't help but smirk.

"if tossing you around was all it took, you should've just asked, sweetheart"

Your cheeks burn red. Never once has he spoken to you like this- so direct, without scaffolding.

"makes me wonder what else you might like,"

Dokyeom brushes his fingertips up your legs, kneeling down to face your clothed cunt.

"I learned a lot today," he bites his lip, eyes fixed on the damp spot growing under your panties. "will you tell me which of all those you like or should I find out for myself?"

His gaze shifts to you, eyeing the flush on your cheeks, the scandalized widening of your eyes.

"I- I want-" you trail off, voice so small it makes him melt.

"I'm listening, honey, tell me what you want,"

That soft, silverish quality of his voice resurfaces, and you feel your body relax. He rubs slow circles into your thighs, trying his best to coax the words out of you, but you remain hesitant.

Embarrassed, rather.

You've never told anyone what you want from them so plainly, with nowhere to hide. You feel exposed in front of him for the first time in a while and the feeling excites you.

"don't stop." you murmur, unable to meet his gaze. "don't stop after just one... y'know-"

His eyes darken.

"oh I'm going to like this"

Deft fingers slide up your inner thighs, hooking under the last of your lingerie and pulling it apart, tearing the lace off of your body to reveal what Dokyeom wants most.

The most intimate part of you lies spread out all for him, glistening with arousal, and he has to suck in a breath to calm himself.

"don't- don't do that,"

"do what?" he asks, backing away slightly just in case you've changed your mind.

"try to control yourself like that- just don't hold back"

You breathe shakily before continuing- "I want to see how far you go-"

Something snaps within him, that final band of restraint finally tears apart, and he yanks you down onto his tongue, licking fervently at your cunt like this is the last time he gets to taste you.

Your lips part, letting breathy, helpless cries slip past, and Dokyeom knows he's doing well.

Despite the gusto with which he devours you, his movements are precise, practiced. It's exactly as he said earlier- he knows how to make you feel good. He knows your body.

He works his tongue against you, lapping at your clit without any care of hypersensitivity or overstimulation, pressing harder and harder into you as your legs spasm around him.

"wai- oh my god-" you moan, back arching up, hips lifting off the bed for a second, before Dokyeom pushes you back down firmly with his hand splayed across your lower belly.

Squirming helplessly under the force of his arm, your body tries to move away, to get just a little respite, but all in vain. He doesn't let you. The weight of one hand holds you secure, while the other cups the underside of your thighs- pushing your leg up as far as it can go.

With your legs spread out further, his assault on your clit feels even more direct, with each firm motion of his tongue sending shockwaves across your body, and you feel your muscles tighten, building up for release.

Dokyeom seems to have noticed too, and his lips curl up at the corners into a deeply satisfied smirk. You feel it against your skin.

"already?" he abashes, eyeing your tensed frame, "after all you said?"

"m'sorry- please, please can I-"

"can you?" he echoes.

"can I cum ple-please"

You've done this before- asked for permission before- but not with him. Never with him. Dokyeom's smirk only widens when he realises the power he now holds over you. To be able to deny one their right to pleasure is... exciting, to say the least. He certainly seems to enjoy it, considering the bulge growing in his boxers.

"mm, I didn't quite hear that honey, come again?" His voice is patronizing, mocking.

"please Kyeommie please let me cum"

Dokyeom's never thought of himself as a man who likes to abuse his power, but right now with the way you're begging? He wants to see just how much you can take before the seams begin to rip.

"no."

Your eyes fly open, jaw agape as your clit throbs under his tongue.

"w-what"

"you asked, I said no."

Now he knows he isn't being fair, he knows. But the tears welling up in your eyes have him entranced. There's this urge he has deep inside to see them all spill out and stain those pretty cheeks of yours.

"but-"

"are you gonna act up? 'cause that's not how you're getting what you want sweetheart"

Dokyeom's voice sends a chill down your spine. With the way his tongue abuses your clit, you're certain you won't be able to hold yourself back, not when your high is almost near.

You want to be good for him, you really do- but is this even fair? As he laps into you, nudging your sensitive nerves just right, your head tips back into the pillows and you moan out a string of profanities, getting completely lost in the pleasure he gives you.

He isn't happy.

"if you wanna cum that bad- I should give you more, hm? who am I to deny?"

You know very well from the tone of his voice what he's got planned.

Grabbing the tie- now dangling precariously off the bed- Dokyeom crawls over your spent frame, balancing his weight on his knees.

"gimme your hands."

Tentatively, you hold out your arms, pushing your wrists together.

"what are you do-"

"you know what I'm doing, sweetheart"

You do.

He pulls the fabric of his tie taut, looping it at your wrists before tying a firm knot to keep you from moving. The black silk, although soft to the touch, presses into your skin, and you hiss when he gives the fabric a sharp tug.

Dokyeom's eyes draw back to yours, and he grabs your wrists, pushing them up above your head.

"keep these here," he murmurs, gulping slightly when he notices how close your faces are.

Your eyes burn holes into each other's, and he sees something in your gaze that he hasn't before-

Hunger.

"Dokyeom," you breathe, chest rising shakily,

"kiss me"

Waiting no longer, he pushes his lips to yours, capturing the plush crimson in a slow, hard kiss. The way your lips mold so perfectly together, fitting into each other like pieces of a puzzle, makes this moment that much more meaningful.

When he touches you, when he kisses you, you know deep inside that this man is your forever. No one has or ever will make you feel so alive.

Dokyeom swallows your whimpers, your cries, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's sloppy and messy and desperate- but you love the way it feels, the way he feels.

Leaving your wrist, his hand comes down to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you harder, deeper.

"wa-wait-" you pant, feeling your lungs burn.

As you try to pull away, a deep growl emanates from within his throat, and he tugs you closer, unwilling to let go.

A surprised 'mm!' escapes your occupied lips, muffled by his own, and your body lights up- embers of red-hot desire scattering across your skin.

Dokyeom's own lungs beg him to move away, to breathe, but he holds still, stubborn as ever. You feel far too good. If this is how he dies, he'll go gladly.

The airy whimpers and gasps from you, however, finally get him to let go.

Your chest heaves as you gulp in precious breaths to soothe your lungs, as does his own. Staring up at him in shock, you manage to stutter out-

"where has that been all this time-"

He lets out an airy laugh, pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing down your torso until he reaches your gushing sex.

"the hands stay up there- got that?"

You nod eagerly, holding your wrists up to show him, but you're quickly cut off by his tongue, pressing back into your clit.

"oh-"

Tracing slow figure eights into you, Dokyeom works his tongue deftly while his fingers prod at your entrance. With ease, he slips two long digits inside, pushing deep till your arousal trickles down his knuckles.

"Dok- oh fuck oh my god"

Each knuckle of his fingers adds further stimulation as he begins to pump in and out of you. Every time he draws back, you stretch to accommodate the balls of his joints and it feels divine.

You've always loved his hands. Those slender, long fingers were perfect for you, and the fact that his knuckles jut out at each joint only makes it all better.

The kinks in his fingers have your legs quivering, and his tongue- god his tongue- nudges your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

Feeling your orgasm build at record speed, you moan, completely defenseless as Dokyeom slurps noisily at your sex while his fingers push up against that one particularly soft spot inside you.

"Kyeo-Kyeommie m'gonna-"

"that's it, sweetheart- just let go for Kyeommie"

With a sob, you feel your orgasm burn through you, twice as intense as the previous one, and your thighs quiver.

You're spent. You're spent and he's only made you cum twice.

Watching the way your muscles twitch from the weight of your orgasm, Dokyeom grins, feeling particularly proud.

Now usually, this is where it ends. His arms would slip out from under your thighs, and he'd kiss you sweetly, telling you how amazing you are. He'd check to see if you wanted him to make love to you, and if you agreed, he'd do exactly that.

Tonight, however, he stays firm in place, his mouth still connected to your cunt. Limbs still quivering, your eyes widen when he begins to move against you, barely giving you a second to catch your breath and recover.

Your body goes limp when he pokes his tongue against your over-sensitive clit, licking gentle yet firm stripes with precision. Each oscillation elicits the most delightful sound, just as a clock chimes with the motions of its gong.

All you can do is clutch the fabric of his tie, nails digging into your palms as your skin burns under his touch. Your nerves throb, pulsing in time with your heart, in time with his tongue.

"so good for me, honey," he mumbles into you, sliding his fingers back inside you in one fluid motion. Your back arches comically off the bed, mouth hanging open in a mix of shock and pleasure.

Once more, you find your belly rudely forced back down. Dokyeom narrows his eyes at you, irritation flashing behind his deep brown pupils, and keeps his hand there- splayed over your lower belly, pushing down with just enough pressure for his fingers to prod out from under your skin.

You gasp, feeling fuller somehow with the added force, feeling his fingers drag deeper against your walls. Within moments, your cunt clenches down around his digits, and he laughs in disbelief.

"again? baby c'mon you have a point to prove, don't you?"

Under any other circumstance, you would've bitten back, calling him some name, yelling some profanity- but now? Now you need him. You're so close, right on the edge of the water, ready to fall in, and only he can give you that last push. You know better than to open that smart mouth of yours right now.

"is this all it takes? y'know if you're gonna start off by being a brat- you gotta keep up with the act at least-"

"m'so-m'sorry-" you gasp, tugging against your restraints as you feel your high mere seconds away, "m'sorry please can I cum please I've been so good for you-"

Dokyeom nods, scissoring his fingers in and out of you more rapidly than before, and you cum with a scream, straining against the cloth binding your wrists as your orgasm rips through you like a whirlwind.

"that's my girl-" he sighs, placing a kiss to your inner thigh, while his fingers continue their movement inside you.

"Kyeom- oh- t-too much,"

Your cries fall on deaf ears, and he shoots you a sly grin.

It has been over an hour now, you're certain. Dokyeom's held you still and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, his fingers, both.

"p-please-" you whimper, tears streaming down your face as those long fingers slide into you once more.

"just one more, honey,"

Dokyeom presses tender kisses to your inner thighs- now wet with your slick- and pushes further into you.

"just one more for me, hm? you can do that for me, can't you baby?"

You nod, small sobs wracking your body. Of course you'll do this for him. You'll do anything for him. Plus, you can't say you aren't enjoying this-

"that's my girl."

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #lee seokmin #seokmin smut #seokmin x reader #seokmin #svt dk #dokyeom #lee dokyeom #dokyeom smut #dude this is- #I don't even know- #the things I'd do for this man #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop

[mopopshop]

Night routine w Emily x fem!reader. Like Emily w head in the readers lap while reading or maybe they watch a tv show religiously before bed. Fan on? Spooning? Weighted blanket? Blackout curtains? Hell yeah

Emily X Reader Night Routine 

🌙🌙🌙

you guys have such a cute little domestic apartment that you get too come home to

you usually get home before emily 

when she gets home she’s usually coming from practice, sweaty and tired 

the first thing she wants to do when she gets home is cuddle with you 

you always make her shower for cause she’s sweaty and gross 

“Fuck, I’m tired” is the only warning you get that Emily’s home before you feel your girlfriend’s 6’1 body flop entirely on yours.

“Babe get off!!” You whine, flailing your arms from under her in an attempt at getting her off.

She groans into your ear “I’m tired though, give me like five more minutes”

“You’re sweaty..”

“Ignoring you” she teases

“Emily, shower. Right now”

“Ignoring, ignoring, ignoring”

you’ll sit on the bed together just scrolling on their phones, cuddling in comfortable silence 

she’s a big reader so you’ll nap in her lap while she reads 

i hc that she’s bomb in the kitchen and loves to cook dinner for the two of you 

she def loves like true crime docs so yall will watch them together before bed 

ipad kid lowk like she can’t eat a meal w/o watching smth 

showering together >>>

you do her skincare for her and it’s so soft and domestic 😓

if you’re feeling extra lovey dovey and soft you’ll wear matching pjs 

but the usual pjs are, emily wearing a pair of old basketball shorts and a stretched out tee (+ her glasses and a little top bun🤭) and ur usually wearing just one of emily’s shirts cause they’re big on you

on some occasions you’ll go live on insta to talk w the fans 😍🙌🏾

if you have a pet the two of you will go out and walk them 

arguing over what to order if you guys want takeout 

said it before and i’ll say it again she def smokes 🍃 so yall get high together after a long week 

late night makeout sesh’s>>>>>

the both of you love it cold in the bedroom so fans on BLAST

two separate blankets because yall fight over them all the time 😭

you love to cuddle though obvi 

spooning before bed

y’all alternate between who’s big spoon and who’s little every night to keep it even 

she loves to sleep with her head in your neck 🫡

🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾 what do we think pooks

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wlw #wnba #emily engstler #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler headcannons

[blondieeu]

Would you be okay writing some sfw & nsfw on what it would be like dating Connie? I know the reader is married, but he just interests me so much. I love how you based him on Rio, he’s my favorite.

i’m so passionate about connie being based off rio too it’s ok i love writing for him

been away. connie (constance) s.

“you good?”

and you’d just look at him. a moment for the two of you to be vulnerable together in a car you had no business being in, about to smoke a blunt you shouldn’t have been smoking, with someone you especially had absolutely no business being with.

“what’s wrong”

“can’t park here, my husband could see.“

he laughed, starting the engine as loud as he could while he looked at you, a bored expression. his eyes were low and his lips almost sparkled in the moonlight from the lip gloss you kissed hello him with.

“your husband mama?”

“yes!”

constance wore a white wife beater and some sweatpants, tattoos and muscles on full display to everyone who say him, but you knew it was only for you.

his prized gold chain laid across his collar bone. said his mother gave it to him when he was little. his car smelled like him too, the car you helped him pick out at the dealership. smelled like the color navy blue, if that made sense.

“yea ok. tell him your real man s’ takin’ you out.”

and he’d pass you the blunt, tattooed fingers grazing against your untouched ones and handing you a lighter before putting the car in drive and pulling off.

constance hated your husband, maybe you did too. he never listened and was always out, giving you the freedom to do the same. you weren’t a monster though, not like you didn’t care for him, just didn’t love him.

you loved constance— or as you knew him, connie. you knew you loved him when you started to worry about him when he told you he was ‘goin to make a play’ in the middle of the night. or at the point where you’d think about him, regardless of you being in a bed with a whole other man, your husband.

“where we going connie?”

“same place we go everytime girl. unless you want me to fuck you in this car.”

you squirmed in the passenger seat at the thought. wouldn’t be the first time but he could never not make you hot at the thought of having sex with him again, always gave you butterflies. made you feel like a virgin again. it wasn’t always about sex with him though, he was real with you.

when you got to his house it was like clockwork, order food, take a shower, put on some of his clothes and eat together. eventually deciding to eat in the living room and watch some bullshit show you’d been obsessed with recently.

so here the two of you sat. you laying with your head in his lap, and him with his hand rubbing on your butt and the other with the remote.

his house was like a second home to you, he said it was your home too. could come whenever you wanted to, move in if you wanted. got you a copy of the house keys, front door and mailbox.

“gotta move if you don’t wan’ fuck right now, you keep rubbin’ onnit.”

and again, like clockwork you’d work his sweatpants and then his boxers off to pull out his lengthy cock. he had a tan shaft with a pretty pink tip. connie always got so hard for you.

you wrapped both your hands around him but it still wasn’t enough to cover the whole thing. starting off you kissed the side of it, making sure to do it on both sides and even on the top before you took him all the way down into your throat.

connie would moan, head rolling and a tatted hand coming to push all of your hair up into the messiest ponytail you’d ever had. your free hand rubbing up connie’s tan stomach, pushing his wife beater up.

“fuck baby”

with your head bobbing at a decent pace, tongue flicking around his pink tip and getting a faint taste of his pre-cum. the sound of your boyfriends moans drowning out the tv show.

“want you to put it in connie”

you whispered as you let your head come down from his cock, still stroking while you looked up at him. his eyes were a little red from the blunt you smoked earlier. the tv illuminating his rough features, like the small scares on his face.

“so take your panties off then mama”

blondieeu xx

#connie springer aot #blondieeu #smut #connie x black reader #connie springer #aot #mha #levi ackerman #aot fanart #shingeki no kyojin #levi aot #aot smut #attack on titan #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #attack of the clones #eren x mikasa #armin #mikasa #eren aot #eren x reader #aot official art #eren yeager #armin arlert #eren jaeger #eren smut #rio good girls #gangster #toxic

[imaginespazzi]

Part 6: Leaps of Faith

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling (you put your arms around me and I'm home)

(In which a writer who can see the end approaching starts building towards that ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. Happy Sunday and Happy Mothers day! First of all, I wanna thank y'all for being ever so patient with me. I know I've been pretty bad about updating lately and y'all have been so sweet with your asks and I really appreciate it. This fic is very close to its end. I probably could have ended it with this chapter but there's a very specific ending I want to write so this one is more of a self-indulgent filler but I think y'all will like this one. There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Once again, there are most likely logistical inaccuracies. I'm not even gonna lie, the editing on this one is shoddy so there are definitely grammar errors/typos. For now, ignore them and I'll go fix them later. As always, even if we're near the end, feel free let me know what you liked, what you didn't and anything you'd like to see before we get to the end. Have a wonderful week my angels <3

April 2024 

“It’s a little early for ice cream hon,” Azzi jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, startled eyes following the direction of the noise to find Katie leaning against the kitchen door, with a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s a little early to scare the living bejesus out of me mom,” she says with a hand to her chest. 

If possible, Katie’s eyes roll even further at her daughter’s sarcastic tone as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter. She’s gotten herself a spoon and everything, ready to steal some ice cream for herself, when she notices the flavour. Next to her, Azzi stiffens. 

“You hate mint chocolate chip Az,” Katie says quietly. 

“I couldn’t find the strawberry ice cream,” Azzi defends stubbornly, her face taking on a guarded expression. 

Katie walks over to the freezer, opening it and pointing at the strawberry ice cream, Azzi’s favourite, that’s sitting in plain sight, “it’s right there.”

“Well,” Azzi splutters, “I’m trying something new,”. 

“You hate trying new things.”

“I’ve grown up I guess.”

“Azzi.”

“Mom.”

“Azzi, why are you eating ice cream you hate at 4 in the morning?” Katie finally asks in her best mom voice, sighing when she gets a mumbled response from her daughter, “in words Az, please.”

“Paige likes it,” Azzi admits slowly, and before Katie can say anything, before Azzi can dwell on what she’s said, she launches into a rant, “god knows why. Actually I know why because she’s stupid and weird and likes the dumbest shit. Who the fuck likes mint? Who the fuck likes mint and chocolate together? Gross. This shit is disgusting. It tastes all wrong. Paige is just-,” Azzi throws her hands up in the air, “she just doesn’t understand that some things don’t belong together. They can’t. They’re too different and it just- there’s a fucking balance to things you know? And she just- she doesn’t get that. It’s just- it’s not meant to be.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re eating it right now,” Katie says carefully. 

“Because I miss her,” the truth bursts out of Azzi like an erupting volcano, burning itself into every crevice of her skin, “because for some fucking reason I don’t hate the taste of mint chocolate chip. Because maybe they do go together and maybe I’ve been the stupid one this whole time.”

Since she’d stepped out of the hotel in Cleveland, all Azzi could think about was going back, saying fuck it to all the useless logic she’d come up with and going back to the only thing in her life that had ever made sense her Paige. But as it often did in that clichéd battle between head and heart, her head had won out. And she’s never questioned why her head wins so much, why she’s always chosen to listen to the practical side of her brain, until now. Until now when the urge to turn back time, to make herself stay in that hotel room, is all that’s consumed her for the last week. 

“Azzi,” Katie wraps her arms around the younger girl, “what happened with you and Paige?”

Azzi hesitates for a second and then everything’s spilling out of her lips, the good, the bad, the inbetween, all of it tumbles out like an uncontrollable waterfall. There’s something freeing about being able to say it all out loud, something freeing about the tears Azzi finally lets roll down her cheeks. She grips the edge of the counter to keep herself from keeling over, starting to feel herself crumble under the heaviness of all these stupid feelings. 

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Azzi whispers, “we used to be so easy.”

“Oh Az,” Katie rubs a thumb against her daughter’s cheek, “you used to be kids. You’re all grown up now. It’s always harder when you’re older.”

“Well, I don’t like it. I just want to be the way we were again.”

“So why don’t you?” Katie asks like it’s the most simple solution in the world and Azzi shoots her mother an exasperated look. 

“What do you mean? How do we even do that? We can’t be just friends again. We tried. Were you not listening at all?”

“Azzi, sweetheart, you’ve never been just friends.”

“That’s not true,” it’s a futile attempt at arguing against what’s become more of a fact than an opinion in Azzi’s life. It’s a truth she’d let herself acknowledge once and then buried deep within her, scared that once unleashed, it would ruin everything. Except, it turns out, even without it, things had still turned to dust.  

“Do you remember when you came home from Minnesota that first summer with Paige? You were either moping around or you were on call with her. There was no in between. It got better eventually, the moping stopped but the calls? I think you fell asleep on facetime with her almost every night. And you were tired every morning after, you barely had time to eat before school but every time I suggested that maybe you cut back, that was never an option,” Katie smiles fondly, “it’s when I knew.”

Azzi does remember, remembers talking about everything and nothing, remembers laughing and crying, remembers when Paige’s breathing was the only lullaby that could relax her into sleeping. And she remembers battling with that voice in her head, the one convinced there’s something more, silencing it with I’d do this with anyone. But that wasn’t true then and it’s not true now because Paige has never been just anyone, never been just a friend. Because even if Azzi’s never been brave enough to say it out loud, Paige is and has always been everything.

Despite knowing the answer and maybe dreading it just a little bit, Azzi asks it to her mom anyway, “what did you know?”

“That she was your person. You were too young, I couldn’t call it love just yet but I knew Paige was different then, she was yours in a way none of your other friends were. You were different around her,” Katie nudges her daughter, “Azzi you’ve always been just a little bit in love with her and she’s always been just a little bit in love with you too. The two of you have just been a matter of time.”

Azzi closes her eyes, and unlike other people, she doesn’t see darkness or little spots of light, she just sees Paige. Her mother’s words wash over her, like acid in her self-inflicted fight the feelings wounds and yet, the idea of she’s loved me too feels like a band-aid being delicately placed on the scars of her heart. 

“And place,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “we never seem to get time and place right.”

“Why do you need to?”

Another exasperated look is sent Katie’s way at that question, “we live on different sides of the country mom, what do you mean why do we need to?”

“I mean the two of you have barely ever been in the same place. But you made it work, when you had even less, when you felt even less. But you’re adults now. You have other resources now. And I know timing is difficult but- it’s you and Paige. What are you so scared of Azzi?”

Azzi sucks in a deep breath, “what if Paige runs away again?”

“What if you run away again?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Who was the last person to walk away, Azzi?,” Katie sighs when Azzi is adamantly silent, “I know she hurt you by leaving. I know she hurt you by pushing you away. But you did the same thing. You chose UCLA,” Katie holds up a hand when a frustrated Azzi tries to interrupt, “and it was the right decision for you Azzi and she should have supported it. But that doesn’t meant you didn’t hurt her and then you chose Zoe-”

“I didn’t choose Zoe-”

“Yes you did Azzi. Sweetheart you’re my daughter and I will always tell you the complete truth even if it’s not what you wanna hear. And the truth Azzi is that Paige might have hurt you in 101 different ways but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt her back in 99 different ways too.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Azzi whispers, “that’s the problem mom. It hurts when she hurts me but it hurts even more when I hurt her. I don’t want that for us but I just- I just don’t know how to stop it without stopping us.”

“You haven’t even tried, baby. Paige held out a hand and you ran away.”

“She left first. How am I supposed to trust that she won’t just do that again," all that’s missing from Azzi’s stubborn whine is a foot stomp.

“Because she came back. It took her a little bit, I know, but she came back and she’s ready to fight, the question is, are you?”

“Why are you defending her?” Azzi splutters, “who’s side are you even on?”

“There are no sides to this sweetheart. The two of you are on the same side. So maybe instead of fighting against her, take that hand, fight with her.”

***

The WNBA draft is a momentous occasion this year. With a hyped draft class like no other, and the promise of even greater ones in the future, there’s a sense of celebratory hope dangling in the air. When the invite had first come in, Azzi had known the same one would be sent to a certain blonde in Connecticut as well. And a part of her had wanted to hide herself away from that possible collision, but every other part of her wanted nothing more than to get just a glimpse of the blonde.

One moment Azzi is surrounded by flashing cameras and the echo of her name on everyone’s lips, the next everything around her is fading away her eyes meet Paige’s on the other end of the WNBA draft orange carpet. It’s nothing new really. Since she’s met her, the blonde has commandeered all of Azzi’s attention whenever she’s nearby. Sometimes it feels like all of her other five senses fade away to give birth to a secret sixth one, one that’s solely dedicated to Paige, one that’s terrifyingly all-consuming. And yet, despite the heaviness of we’ve said too many goodbyes, for the first time in what feels like eternity, Azzi feels like she can finally breathe. 

And then Paige looks away. 

And Azzi’s back to struggling for air. 

It’s selfish of her, she knows, to expect something, not when she’d been the one to leave them stranded on different islands. But Azzi doesn’t seem to think logically when it comes to Paige and even as she tries to turn her focus back to posing for the camera, every inch of her body is dangerously aware of the blonde’s every move, just a mere few feet away from her. Her conversation with her mother is echoing in her head, giving rise to dangerous desires of what if i grabbed your hand and we ran away together. 

Paige is a natural on the orange carpet, all dazzling smiles and twinkling eyes. She glides through it, inching closer and closer to Azzi, but never giving away any sense of discomfort. And if it was anybody else, maybe they’d never catch onto the nerves hidden beneath Paige’s facade of calm, cool and collected. But once upon a time Paige used to be Azzi’s favourite puzzle and she has every part of the blonde committed to memory. It’s in the way Paige’s teeth gnaw at her lips for the briefest of seconds, in the way her right index finger is begging to tap a beat against where her hands rests on hips, in the way she’s blinking just one too many times. 

And then with one more heavy footed step from Paige, the distance between them is barely a couple inches and they let out identical breaths of air, both of them keeping their focus on the cameras in front of them. It’s loud, too loud, and still all Azzi can focus on is the sound of Paige breathing. The air around them is thick with tension. It feels a bit like they’re silhouetted against a sky made of words they’ve left unsaid and clouds of all the bitter mistakes they’ve made are hanging over their heads. And when their pinkies brush together, and a jolt of electricity sends shivers of I miss you more every day again her skin, Azzi questions if she’s ever made the right decision when it comes to Paige. 

“Wait wait wait,” Ari cuts in, as she squeezes herself in between the two of them, “I wanna get in between the two of you.”

A harsh cry of no sits heavily on the top of Azzi’s tongue as the older woman forces a break in whatever little bit of contact she’d had with Paige. She feels a little pathetic, the way every little inch of her skin is craving for that touch back. It had been nothing, a barely there moment and still Azzi thinks, when she goes to bed tonight, if that was all she’d get of Paige, then it’ll be the only thing that’ll feature in her dreams. 

“Alright one with just Paige and Azzi,” Ari directs the media, stepping out of the way and pushing the two younger girls together. And it’s laughable that a little brush of their pinkies had Azzi feeling any type of way because when they’re suddenly pressed together, every inch of Paige’s side fitting into Azzi’s like it belongs, the way the world suddenly bursts with light and colours makes Azzi wonder if every moment without Paige has simply been monochrome. 

It comes to them naturally how to pose together, arms winding around each other’s waist, heads involuntarily leaning against the other’s. And the smiles might be for the cameras but Azzi knows hers is the most real it’s been all night. It might be temporary, she might lose Paige in the chaos, but for now Paige is here and Azzi has learned how to be content with whatever little she can get. 

As the media moves to capture other people, the logical thing to do would be to separate, to let go of each other. But instead they stand there, still completely wrapped around each other, heart rates in sync as they breathe in each other’s presence. And then Paige’s hand falls from the small of Azzi’s back to tangle their fingers together and they let out identical sighs of relief, something so cathartic in the purposefulness of that touch. Everyone is too busy to notice that the two of them have fallen into a whole other world, one where there’s only two of them and every emotion that they’ve only reserved for the other. There’s no words exchanged as Paige guides the two of them out of the spotlight, somehow keeping their hands clasped together in secret, despite the ever growing crowd. And Azzi doesn’t know this building at all, doesn’t have the faintest clue where she’s being led to, but as long as it’s Paige pulling her along, she doesn’t care where, she thinks she’d go anywhere. 

Paige stops abruptly in a secluded corridor, turning to fully face Azzi. And the sincerity in the blonde’s crystalline blue eyes, as they roam every inch of Azzi’s body before coming to fixate on her face, steals the air away from Azzi’s lungs. Paige has gotten better over the years at building walls, but with every new lock she places on her emotions, there’s a key to open them that seems to always find its way to Azzi. In the delicate golden hue, Paige shines brighter than any star ever could and in the dim light Azzi can make out every bit of hurt and love and please can we just have this moment that Paige can’t put into words. 

“Hi,” Azzi whispers softly, hands itching to reach out and caress Paige’s skin. 

“Hi,” Paige says back, even quieter. She stares at Azzi as if she’s memorising every little detail and then her face crumbles. Azzi feels her heart drop at the single tear that trickles down Paige’s cheek as she lets out a broken whimper. And this, this unspoken power they seem to have over each other, the uncanny ability to just hurt each other without any bit of effort, is what scares Azzi the most. It’s too much. They shouldn’t be able to do this. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s fingers twitch but she hesitates, not knowing if it’s the right thing, “fuck- P what’s wrong?”

Paige doesn’t reply, eyes wandering down to where Azzi’s trying to keep her hands still against her sides and when she looks back up, her eyes are bloodshot, “what’s wrong? What’s not wrong Azzi? You won’t even fucking touch me.”

“I didn’t-” Azzi struggles to speak, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Can you just- fuck- can you just stop overthinking things for once in your life. Of course I want you to touch- you know what nevermind. This was a bad idea. You made yourself clear and I’m just- fuck- I should- I should just go.”

She sounds adamant enough but all it takes, when Paige moves to leave, is the strangled cry that leaves Azzi’s lips. The sound is enough to pull Paige right back in. She takes one look at the tears brimming in Azzi’s eyes. And then she’s pushing Azzi against a wall, hands on either side caging the younger girl between her body and the hard surface behind. She presses their foreheads together and Azzi feels like every part of her might just be a part of Paige too. 

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It’s barely been two weeks and I- fuck- Azzi- I’ve missed you every single second and now you’re here and I still miss you. And it really fucking hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, finally letting her hands cup Paige’s cheeks, and it’s worth it for the way Paige seems to completely melt into her touch, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing but- I don’t know- I feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing when it comes to you. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let me be with you,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with desperation as she presses herself as close to Azzi as possible, “I’ll be your whatever- whatever you give me- whatever you want- I just- I just want you Az- whatever little bit you’re willing to give me- I’ll take it- and if you want me to wait- fuck Azzi- I’d wait forever- you know that right? However long it takes, baby. Just want you- just want us.”

Leaps of faith are scary. Azzi’s never been great at taking them, too cautious, too much of a worrier. She’s more of a step back from the cliff kind of person. If she doesn’t jump, she can’t fall. But here’s the thing, when she was fourteen, Azzi jumped off of her first hypothetical cliff. It had been on a plane, when after avoiding one too many deep questions, Azzi had admitted to a girl she barely knew,that maybe she could like girls. It was the first time she’d ever let herself acknowledge that truth about herself and the girl next to her was a stranger but there was something about her, something that screamed i’ll hold your hand and if you jump it’ll never be alone. And ever since then, that girl, Paige, has always been there. Hands outstretched, ready to jump off any ledge. Because if there’s hard ground underneath, then they’ll learn how to fly together and if there’s water, they’ll figure out how to swim. With Paige there has always been the promise that, whatever it is, they’ll figure it out together. And it’s with that promise in mind, that Azzi takes the leap of faith. 

“Me too,” Azzi whispers, heart beating erratically. 

“What?” Paige searches Azzi’s face, as if waiting for her to take it back. 

“Us. You. You and me. I want that too,” a ghost of a smile begins to creep onto Azzi’s face, and for the first time in god knows how long, she feels feather light, a little bit like she’s floating on a rainbow. 

“You mean it?” Paige asks earnestly, hands moving from the wall to clutch at Azzi’s waist, “don’t play-Azzi- okay- you mean it for real?”

“I do. I want this- I want this so much and I’m still- I’m still really scared and maybe it’ll be a disaster but I- I want to try. With you.”

Azzi used to think she knew all of Paige’s smiles. Her small, not quite fake, but only for cameras and people she didn’t quite know, smiles. Her just for my friends smile that was filled with mirth and childlike joy. Her basketball smile that transformed into a smirk when she got too cocky. Her only for Drew smile, soft and filled with so much adoration and pride. Her Azzi smile, the one only the brown-skinned girl gets to experience, a smile that made Azzi’s her heart swell with love. But the smile that stretches across Paige’s face now, is one Azzi’s never seen before. This one throws Azzi’s entire world of balance, so bright, so big, so full of emotions. If she could, she’d tattoo that smile onto her skin forever. 

“We’re really doing this?” Paige asks, still a little stunned. It wasn’t what Azzi had planned for tonight. She hadn’t really had any plans for what would really happen. But then Paige had walked in and all Azzi could see was forever she was tired of fighting against. 

“We should take it slow okay-” Azzi wraps her arms around the older girl’s neck, keeping their foreheads still against each other’s, “I don’t- I don’t wanna rush into things and fuck it up. I can’t- fuck- I can’t lose y-”

“You won’t,” Paige swears, squeezing at Azzi’s wait, “I won’t let you. We can take it slow. We can take it however you want- I just- we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,” Azzi can’t help the grin that fills up her entire face, “yeah we’re doing this.”

And as they surge forward to claim each other’s lips, and as they meld every inch of themselves into each other, and as they smile and cry into the kiss simultaneously, and as they etch promises into each other skin, and as they let themselves finally fall into each other, for each other, it feels a lot like coming home. 

***

July 2024 

The early morning sunlight casts a dark shadow across Paige’s face, causing the still asleep blonde to scrunch up her face in irritation. Azzi, who’s been awake for nearly half an hour now, can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto her own lips. She shifts herself to block the sun and Paige lets out a content sigh, burrowing herself further into her pillows. And the thing is every moment with Paige is special but there’s something about waking up to her in the morning. Azzi’s always awake first and it gives her ample time to just admire the girl in her arms, blond hair tousled all over her pillow, lips parted slightly open, and one arm always, always, splayed across Azzi’s torso, holding her close. Over the course of time, Azzi’s found out that the second she moves, Paige seems to feel her leave, waking up instantly. 

There had been an adjustment period if Azzi's honest. It had taken her a while to shake that fear of Paige not being there in the morning. The first morning, she’d been scared to open her eyes, even if she could feel Paige’s presence right next to her. That had been one of the few mornings that Paige was fully awake first, hovering above Azzi to wake her up. And when she finally did get the courage to open her eyes, the first thing Azzi had seen was Paige, blue eyes sparkling with unfiltered adoration, a smile filled with promises of every morning just like this. And that had been enough. 

Azzi reaches out to brush a hand through Paige’s soft blond hair, mesmerised by how pretty Paige looks in the morning glow. A lot of Paige belongs to the world now and Azzi’s not opposed to sharing really, because someone so fucking perfect, deserves to be celebrated like that. But there are some parts of Paige that belong to Azzi and Azzi only, some parts Azzi cherishes as being only hers. This is one of them and Azzi takes a snapshot of it, knowing she’ll need it to function in a few months, when she won’t get the real thing. 

“Are you watching Paige sleep?” Azzi almost jumps at the sound of Drew’s voice at the doorway, having been too immersed in Paige to have even heard the door open, “that’s kinda creepy Azzi.”

“Jesus Drew, whatever happened to knocking?”

“I forgot?” Drew grins, before he plops on the bed, the force of it making the whole frame shake a little bit. 

“Drew!” Azzi chides, “you’re gonna wake her up.”

Drew cocks his eyebrows, sparing his sister, who seems unphased by the sudden little bit of chaos around her, still fast asleep, an unimpressive look, “please she can sleep through anything. Besides, it’s already 9. I thought we were gonna do things. I been up for aaaages.”

“She’ll be awake soon,” Azzi smiles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Drew rolls his eyes and it’s remarkable how much he resembles Paige, not just by face, but the mannerisms too. 

He huffs for a second before his eyes sparkle with an idea, “what if we pour water on her!”

“Drew!” Azzi chastises again, trying not to giggle. 

“Boo,” Drew crosses his arms across his chest, “you used to be so cool Azzi.”

Azzi laughs as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, scheming with Drew on how to wake Paige up. And it’s not that she’s beyond that really, tucking the water idea for a rainy day, but Paige looks too peaceful this morning and she wants to preserve that look of serenity on the older girl’s face for just a little bit longer. 

“Hey Azzi,” Drew says after a while and Azzi hums in response, “when you and Paige get married, I can still be a groomsman right? Even if there’s no grooms?”

“Wha- where did that come from?” the brunette’s eyes widened at the question, sitting up a little straighter. 

Drew peers up at her with all the innocence of a pre-teen, “you are gonna get married right?”

“I don’t-”

“It’s too early for your yapping Drew,” Azzi’s saved from answering by Paige’s tired voice entering the conversation. She looks over to find Paige’s eyes already on her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at Azzi. If Drew wasn’t sitting right there, Azzi would lean over and kiss her and let Paige deepen it until they were both satisfied. 

“Oh thank god,” Drew cheers dramatically, “I thought you were gonna sleep forever.”

Paige scoffs, the arm that’s still wrapped around Azzi’s torso tightening its hold, “I wish.”

“Well you’re awake now so get up,” Drew whines, moving from his spot on the end of the bed, to flop on top of Paige’s body instead, “get up, get up, GET UP.”

“Get off,” Paige groans but there’s no real force behind it. Azzi watches with a fond smile, as Paige flips Drew over so that she can tickle him, eliciting rounds of laughter from the younger boy. Something in her heart flutters, her mind going back to Drew’s question. She’s never really been one to think too hard about marriage and children and that domestic suburban life, leaving it up to fate, but now- well, maybe. 

“Okay aight aight enough. Go get ready for breakfast and we’ll be down in a second,” Paige says, ushering Drew off of the bed. 

“You can just tell me you want me to leave so you can kiss Azzi you know?” Drew scrunches up his nose, “you two are gross.”

Paige sends him a stern look and gets a dramatic eye roll in return but as he always does, Drew does as he’s told, mock saluting the two of them and skipping out of the room. 

“He’s right by the way,” Paige says softly, turning back to where Azzi’s leaning against the backboard, “I do want to kiss you.”

Azzi smirks lopsidedly, “what’s stopping you?”

She squeals in surprise when Paige pulls her, the force of it causing both of them to tumble onto the front-end of the bed. Azzi ends up on top of Paige, hands resting around her neck, the blonde’s hands holding her waist in place. 

“Good morning,” Paige grins, clearly proud of herself as she chases Azzi’s lips to pull her into a searing kiss.

“Good morning,” Azzi whispers back, thumb caressing Paige’s left cheek.  

“Just so you know,” Paige pulls away, a determined glint in her eyes, “we’re so getting married one day.”

***

October 2024

Azzi’s mood has been rancid for the last couple of weeks. It’s terrible she knows; it makes her irritating to play with and a nightmare to live with. But even if this had been expected, that she would be on one end of the country and her heart would be on the other side, it doesn’t stop her from constantly being in a state of missing Paige. And it’s different from before, now that there’s a certain surety of of course i’ll see you soon but soon never really feels soon enough. 

“Azzi can you please get the door,” Kiki calls from her room when the doorbell rings. 

“I’m busy,” Azzi grunts back, snuggling further into her pillow with a book she isn’t actually reading, “you go get it.”

“Azzi please, I’m literally in the middle of getting dressed,” Kiki yells exasperatedly. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s pretty sure her teammates are about this close to plotting her murder, and deservedly so, Azzi would sink back onto her bed and let the incessant doorbell noise continue. But she does love her teammates, thinks Kiki probably deserves to change in peace, and it forces her out of bed, grumbling away about annoying visitors. Until she actually gets a look at the visitor. Paige stands on the doorstep, confident as ever, a bouquet of roses and peonies and lilies in her hand. 

“You’re here,” Azzi breathes out, staring in awe. 

“And thank fucking god she is,” Kiki quips from behind her, “maybe we can finally get our old happy Azzi back and not this bitch.”

Paige laughs, “watch how you talk about my girl Rice.”

“You’re here. You’re really here,” Azzi whispers again. 

“I heard you missed me baby,” Paige says, her cocky smirk betrayed by the softness in her voice. And then Azzi is flying into her arms, throwing Paige off balance. 

“So fucking much,” Azzi admits into Paige’s neck, eliciting a giggle from the blonde, “Kiki’s right. I have been a bitch.”

“Just a little bit,” Kiki calls out again but there’s a new fondness in her voice. It’s funny how her team, even the haters, have slowly become Paige fans. They’d been hesitant at first, just like the UConn girls, but now well, it seems the basketball world’s Montagues and Capulets have learned to accept their star players’ relationship. 

“Missed you too Az,” Paige’s tone is vulnerable as they break away, “alright, go get changed, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Or…,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, “we could stay here and do something else.”

Paige shivers under her touch, stepping away to keep some semblance of control “n-no I have plans,” but she can’t help but kiss Azzi’s pout away, “it’ll be worth it, I promise. Besides,” she bites at Azzi’s ear, “there’s always later.”

***

“Your big plans are to bring me to the supermarket,” Azzi cocks an eyebrow as they walk down one of the many aisles, “you turned down sex for this? Should I be offended?”

Paige doesn’t say anything, concentratedly looking at signs, trying to figure out a specific section, before an aha! moment dances over her face, and she pulls Azzi with her, the younger girl going willingly, despite the eye roll. She stops triumphantly in front of the sushi section and Azzi looks at her quizzically. 

“I’m getting you supermarket sushi,” Paige says pointedly, “and then you can get me mac and cheese.”

And if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favourite mac and cheese. Oh. The realisation of what Paige is doing trickles around Azzi a little bit like rain after a long summer drought. She thinks back to the bouquet, everything suddenly making sense.

“You’re such a dork Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly, tapping the older girl’s nose. 

“Your dork,” Paige grins cheesily, “now hurry up and pick one. I don’t wanna miss the sunset.”

***

Once she catches on it, it doesn’t surprise Azzi to find that Paige has everything planned out perfectly, down to the exact spot in the park- the one by Paige’s recovery airBnB, the one they’d taken countless walks in trying to repair their friendship- where the two of them can be away from everybody else, in their own little bubble. And she has a picnic blanket, that’s a little small but they don’t really want space from each other anyways. They lean against a tree, food set up in front of them, Paige’s laptop, carefully piled on top of a couple of books to be the perfect height, set a little bit further away. 

“So what NBA game are we watching?” Azzi asks with a smile and Paige groans, “what? Was that not part of the plan?”

“Dude come on. It’s the beginning of October. Please tell me you know the NBA season isn’t happening yet,” Paige rubs her temple, only a little endeared by the comment, “are you sure you’re a basketball player?” 

“There are games in October. I swear I’ve seen them before,” Azzi says sceptically. 

“Yeah at the very end of the month, not right now.”

“Well then close enough,” Azzi says indignantly, “I don’t need to know the exact day.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige acquiesces with a smirk and it earns her an elbow to the stomach, “what the fuck? That shit’s domestic violence you know?”

“Big words Bueckers, didn’t think you knew them,” Azzi teases, placing a kiss against Paige’s offended expression, before settling herself against the blonde’s side, sighing contentedly when she gets a kiss on her temple in return. They’re cliché enough to put on Love and Basketball, but Azzi doesn’t really end up watching much at all. In between slow kisses, she almost falls asleep a couple of times, the comfort of Paige’s arms like a blanket wrapping her in the warmth of this is my fairytale. 

“THE POLAROID,” Paige’s shout breaks Azzi out of her haze as she feels her body being shaken off, the blonde rummaging through her bag for the camera, “we have to take the polaroid. My wall needs it.”

“Oh yeah a tiny polaroid picture of us inbetween all your Lebron posters, a perfect fit,” Azzi drawls only to be met with a scathing look from Paige. 

“It’s for important things and Lebron is the most important of them all,” Paige explains with complete seriousness, as she finally finds the polaroid camera and shimmies back to Azzi with it in hand. 

The sunset is beautiful. Pink, purple, orange and blue, all blending together to create the perfect picture. But Azzi thinks it’s not nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of her, not nearly as beautiful as the date Paige had planned, not nearly as beautiful as the future she can so clearly see now. Her mind drifts back to the night of the phone call, and she can almost hear Paige’s sobs again, can still hear her own voice breaking. Back then, they had seemed impossible, a butterfly like dream that danced out of their grasp. 

“Hey,” Paige captures her chin with two fingers, “where’d you go?”

Azzi shakes her head, “nowhere. I’m right here. With you. Where I should be.”

“Sappy goof,” Paige snorts but she kisses Azzi like she’ll take those words and hide them in the labyrinth of her mind, protect them there forever. 

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks. 

Click. 

And Azzi hopes, that however many years later, when they have a home of their own, amidst all the photos that they’ll take over the next years, this one will be hung somewhere on their wall, a testament to finally realising every dream they’d dared to dream together. 

***

December 2024 

There are pebbles being thrown at her window and Azzi has to stop herself from laughing when she peers down to see Paige, freezing cold in the Virginia December air, staring up at her with a goofy smile. She shakes her head when her phone rings, knowing it’s Paige and answers it with her own foolish grin. 

“What exactly are you doing?” Azzi asks, “come back to bed.”

“You said I was unromantic. I’m trying to be romantic,” Paige’s teeth chatter in the cold, as she balances her phone in one hand, still throwing rocks with the other. 

“I didn’t say that and throwing rocks at my window is supposed to be romantic? You’re going to wake the whole house up.”

“That’s what they do in all the good rom coms. And you said and I quote ‘we’re kind of boring’. You might be boring Azzi Fudd but I most definitely am not.”

It had been a throwaway comment Azzi had made at dinner with some friends from high school. One of her friends had been going on and on about some adventurous trip that she and her boyfriend were going on, and then asked Paige and Azzi if they had any of that planned. To which Azzi had replied that they were a little too busy, considering they were college basketball players still in season, and besides they were “kind of boring” people. She hadn’t meant it in any type of way. Personally, Azzi likes boring. Paige however, seemed to have taken the comment to heart and Azzi had woken up at 2 a.m. to an empty bed and the sound of something being thrown at her window. 

“Okay I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You're really interesting baby and the most romantic person in the world. Now will you please come back to bed,” Azzi concedes, already missing the feeling of being cuddled up in her blankets with Paige’s body heat keeping her nice and toasty. 

“No,” Paige says indignantly, “come down here.”

“Paige, it's freezing. It’s gonna start snowing any minute.”

“Exactly. That’s exciting.”

“Sleep is exciting,” Azzi whines, but she’s already padding around her room looking for a warm sweater, grumbling under her breath about the warm California sun she’s missing. She tiptoes down the staircase, wincing at the one step that creaks just a little too much, before pushing herself out the door. And it’s freezing cold, there’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s all worth it Azzi thinks, it’ll always be worth it, just to experience Paige’s smile. 

“Knew you’d come,” Paige grins cockily, mittened hands pulling Azzi into her.

“Yeah yeah. What are we even doing?”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige bellows dramatically, “may I have this dance.”

Azzi stares at Paige’s outstretched hand wondering if this is some sort of cry for help, but one look at Paige’s face tells her that the girl in front of her is being absolutely serious. 

“This is your idea of exciting? Dancing in the street while it’s freezing with no music?” Azzi raises an eyebrow, but she takes Paige’s hand. 

“It’s spontaneous,” Paige says the last word with a flourish, as she spins Azzi, “why not dance in the street when it’s freezing with no music?”

And well, that’s a fair point. If anyone were to look out their window that night, they’d probably think the two girls were somewhat crazy. Laughing and giggling and tripping over each other as Paige hums a melody and Azzi occasionally joins in. It’s ridiculous and corny and cliché and perfect. And then the first little bit of snow falls, white drops circling around the two dancing girls, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes. The dim glow of the streetlight is enough to catch identical smiles on the two girl’s faces as they revel in each other. 

“You know some people say if you make a wish during the first snowfall, it’ll come true,” Paige whispers, still waltzing the two of them around, cheek pressed to Azzi’s, “you wanna try?”

And the thing is Azzi doesn’t really believe in all of that, in magic but something about Paige, something about this moment feels magical. It makes a believer out of Azzi. 

“Yeah,” Azzi smiles, “let’s make a wish.”

They stand still, holding hands, eyes closed, both a little breathless, as they make their wishes. And when they open them, if it feels a little bit like maybe their wishes have already been granted, well they’ll share it in a secret smile but never out loud. After all, wishes don’t come true if you speak of them. 

***

April 2025

7 seconds to go in the National Championship and Azzi’s UCLA Bruins are down by two points. It’s her last chance, having already declared for the 2025 WNBA draft, to win a national championship, to bring home their first basketball national championship since the 1978 team that had won the AIAW championship, to win their first NCAA championship ever. It had taken some sheer luck to get to this point if Azzi’s honest. As a two-seed in the Spokane region, they’d benefitted from their one-seed having been eliminated early and then getting to face a Cinderella six-seed in the final four. On the other side of the bracket, UConn, the favourites coming for a repeat, had been stunned by another team, the team that UCLA was now facing. That had caused a bit of a second-hand sting and Azzi’s not really trying to take revenge for Paige, but it'd be a lie to say the get back at them for me babe from earlier this morning isn’t ringing in her head. 

The play is simple, set screens for Azzi, get her open, get her the ball. A two would get them to a tie and three would win it outright. Either will do. It’s a little too reminiscent of last year when Azzi had failed at tying the final 4 game and she can still feel that loss on the tips of her fingers. They break out from their last timeout, breathlessly running to their spots on the floor. The whistle blows, Kiki inbounds the ball and everything is a blur. All Azzi knows is the shot clock is winding down. She runs off of what feels like a million screens. And then she’s open on the wing, for a millisecond. A perfect pass from Kiki makes sure the ball lands straight in Azzi’s hand. And she doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even notice the defender put up a hand, she shoots the ball. There’s two people on the court that know for sure that ball is going in the minute it leaves Azzi’s fingers, the shooter herself and her biggest fan in the stands, who’s been just a little bit in love with that shooting stroke, since before anything else had even begun. 

With a delicate swish, the ball falls through the net, the buzzer sounds around the arena, the crowd explodes in blue and gold, as the UCLA Bruins win the 2025 national championship. 

Everything stills in Azzi’s brain for a second, her thoughts taking a second to catch up to reality. She’s never really been one to emotion on the court, keeping herself steely guarded through most games, even at the very end. But now, triumph and pride and just utter happiness at finally achieving one of her biggest dreams, comes roaring to the surface, manifesting itself throughout her entire body, as she lets out a scream of joy. Her teammates engulf her and she gets lost in a sea of hugs and tears and bright, decadent smiles. 

As thing start to calm down, there’s really only one thing on Azzi’s mind and Paige’s words echo in her ears, because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. And Azzi thinks maybe Paige had discovered one of the biggest truths of their life with that, the truth that at the end of day, in any moment, big or small, happy or sad, the one person Azzi wants next to her, is her Paige. It’s been that way since she was fourteen, and too young to really understand the meaning of wanting someone forever, and she thinks if she has her way, it’ll be like that for the rest of her life, the rest of their life. 

Paige is beaming in the crowd, standing next to Jon and José, a #35 jersey proudly adorning her torso. She waves when she catches Azzi’s eyes, always her biggest cheerleader. And Azzi throws caution to the wind, fuck it, not caring that there’s still a large crowd or that cameras are likely to follow her every move. She pushes her way into the stands, stopping right in front of the blonde. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless. 

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Azzi grins before merging their lips together and everything else fades to the background, until she’s consumed by nothing but Paige. They break apart far quicker than either of them would like and Azzi expects to feel just a little bit of fear at what she’s just done, likely given the media a spectacle they could run a million and one stories about but instead, with her forehead still pressed against Paige’s, she feels nothing but calm. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi whispers and Paige’s eyes widen. They’ve known it for a while now but it’s the first time either of them have said it. 

“Say it again,” Paige demands. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi says again, grinning so hard, she thinks it might become her permanent expression, “like really fucking in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you,” Paige whispers, pulling Azzi into a bone-crushing hug. 

And this might not be the moment where everything finally comes together. There’s still so much life left to live, so much that they still need to work through, so much they’ve yet to deal with. But for now, Azzi has a national championship and she has the love of her life, the rest will work itself out, or so she hopes.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

#autistic coded character #religious trauma #good omens #aziraphale #aziraphale defense squad #i'm in a mood #like i'm begging y'all to learn what empathy is #like goddamn i know i'm not perfect but at least i don't forget that the reason for everything in good omens is love #neil has said this several times #it's one thing to dislike a character #it's another to assassinate characters in ways that blatantly contradict what the narrative has told us #and try to pass it off as canon #if you wanna send me hate just hit the block button instead #i'll try to be really sad about it #and if you just have to send me hatemail at least have the courage to attach it to your name instead of hiding behind anon #i'm too old for this shit #i'm gonna go back to the star wars tag now #it's been a minute since i went off and today proved to be the perfect day for it

[augustjustice]

That Healing Touch

AO3 Link

They stand in the Mayfield’s darkened living room, all looking at each other like they can’t quite conjure up the words for their next move. Eddie rubs a hand over his head, eyes darting away from the gazes of the others, just barely managing to bite off another Jesus Christ by digging his teeth into his bottom lip. 

They can’t be certain where Mrs. Mayfield is. Maybe she’s been cleared out because of the hellscape currently seeping through Eddie’s trailer ceiling, like he assumes Uncle Wayne has. Maybe–she’s out for some other reason. The pinched expression on Little Red’s face suggests that wouldn’t be all too uncommon, for her mother not to come home in the night. 

Eddie knows that song and dance well enough from his own youth.  

All they can do is hope for the best–that she doesn’t show up. Eddie isn’t sure what they’ll do then, but he’s gotten pretty damn good at this whole running thing, bitter as he is about it. 

“We should try to get some sleep,” Nancy finally breaks the silence, clipped and authoritative, like she hadn't just been dragged through a landscape of nightmares by Vecna’s own design. 

After Chrissy, and then Patrick, Nancy makes the third time Eddie’s seen it, a pair of eyes glazing over, ghostly white. As shaken up as it’s left him every time just to see it from the outside looking in, he can barely understand how Wheeler is still on her feet, isn’t just a quivering mess in the corner somewhere, like he imagines he would be. Full of surprises is a fucking understatement, at this point. 

“Nance–” Steve starts, one arm stretching out towards her, the worry on his face transparent. 

“I’ll be okay, Steve,” she takes a step away from him, putting distance between them.

From the thin line of her mouth, Eddie gets the sense that any comfort offered might make her reach her breaking point. Steve must feel it too, because he drops his hands as though in surrender. 

“Just…” Nancy sighs, steadying herself, “we won’t be any help at all if we’re all too exhausted to function.”

“You heard the lady,” Robin gives a wobbly, uncertain smile, “she’s in charge, after all.” 

She pulls out that old adage, like it’s a well worn joke. Eddie has the good grace not to call her out on it, doesn’t quite drawl out a sarcastic That’s not what you said in the boat, but it’s a close call. 

Steve’s eyes dart back and forth between them, lingering on Robin, the pair of them managing some kind of silent communication through nothing but frowns and eyebrow twitches. 

“Alright, alright,” he finally agrees, however reluctantly, giving a defeated nod. “I mean, you’re not wrong on the sleep thing. Not like we can play our best game when we’re totally out of it, after all.” 

There’s something in his tone, the way his gaze flits briefly to the kids and then catches Eddie’s own, that reminds him of that moment right before launching off the bank out into Lover’s Lake. Steve’s being glib, casual, the way Eddie had been when he’d refused to let Dustin get on the boat with them, the four older teens all playing along with an unspoken plan. He’s trying so desperately to seem perfectly normal for the four munchkins currently in the room with them. 

Eddie barely understands how any of the kids are holding their shit together as well as they already are, especially when he feels like he’s about to shake apart himself at any second. But behind the brave faces, he can see it, the exhaustion beginning to settle, making them look older than they have any right to.

The least he can do is play along. 

“Not the sports metaphors, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, long and loud, as he sways into Steve’s space, grin too bright. “Please, be merciful, there are nerds present.”

“Yeah, well, when aren’t there?” Steve asks, low and dry. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, gratitude obvious.

“I am not a nerd!” Erica protests loudly.

“You’re joking, right?” Dustin rolls his eyes. “We’ve been over this, Erica Sinclair. You are as nerdy as they come.” 

It’s a little uncanny, because the amused but fond look Dustin pins her with almost perfectly mirrors the way Eddie has seen Steve look at Dustin himself, the way Eddie suspects he also sometimes looks at the kid.

“Plus, some of us? Are jocks and nerds, thank you very much,” Lucas says, swiveling around to Erica’s other side and shooting her a pointed look. 

“Yeah, turns out Lucas isn’t too cool for the rest of us,” Max teases, eyes crinkling at the corners as she knocks her shoulder into his. 

“That’s true,” Erica agrees, hands on her hips in a way that reminds Eddie, hysterically enough, of Harrington. “You’ve always been the one who’s way too cool for my brother, not the other way around.”

As their bickering continues, Steve catches Eddie’s eyes again, mouthing a quick Thank you while they’re all too distracted to see. 

Nancy and Robin both look a little heartened, too, by the familiar sounds of the kids arguing, their rigid edges softening.

“Nine has long since past, so you know what that means–time for bed, kiddos!” Robin interrupts the petty squabbling before it gets entirely out of their control, starting to corral them back on track. 

Several groans ring out, but Steve cuts them off with a quick clap of his hands, jumping in right where she left off, their rhythm as fluid as a well-oiled machine. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he makes a motioning gesture with one hand, the other firmly planted on his hip, “Come on, you knuckleheads, and get a move on.”

The combined force of Robin and Steve seems, miraculously, to be enough, the younger four members of their little monster-fighting brigade getting into gear to set up their various sleeping arrangements, even as they grumble about it. 

“Robin, you’re with me,” Nancy declares simply before turning on her heel and marching from the living room.

Eddie catches the subtle look Steve and Robin share again.

“Better somebody stick close by Nance after…everything,” Steve says quietly, the tightness of his voice making it clear he’s still a bit shaken up.

“I’ve got her,” Robin assures him, giving Steve’s arm a quick squeeze at his grateful nod. 

Max clears her throat, then, drawing Eddie’s attention away from the pair as they hunch their heads together and head out of the room, still talking in soft voices.

“Erica can stay in my room. There are sheets and shit in the hall closet for the rest of you,” she directs.

Eddie nods, following her and ignoring the heated game of rock-paper-scissors that’s broken out between Dustin and Lucas to determine which of them is going to claim the couch. As they make their way down the hall, they pass what must be Mrs. Mayfield’s room, catching a quick glimpse of Nancy and Robin beginning to quietly settle in for the night.

Max stops in front of a wooden door, shorter in width than the rest, and yanks it open roughly.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she gestures at the contents inside for Eddie to see. 

“Whatever you guys need, take it.” The words are brusque, a cover for the generosity of her statement, the ease with which she’s letting them all into her space, into her home. He’s noticed it to varying degrees with all of them–it feels transparent how much they know and trust each other, the way they’re willing to give up nearly anything to help the others, to help with this entire life-risking hero’s quest they’ve put themselves on.

But Eddie’s the outsider, here, not a member of their little party, the odd man out. So it still feels like he should be especially grateful, every time they extend that willingness to give whatever they’ve got to try and help him.   

“Sure thing. Thanks, Red.”

“Night, Eddie,” she murmurs, back already to him, quiet enough he almost doesn’t catch it.  

He’s turning to retreat back to the living room, blankets piled up in his arms, when a voice behind him stops him in his tracks.

"Psst! Eddie! Hey, Eddie!" Steve calls at a stage whisper from down the hall, reminiscent of the way he'd called after him in the Upside Down. When Eddie catches his eye, Steve motions with one hand for him to follow. "C'mere."

Eddie drops the stack back in the closet for now and dutifully makes his way towards Steve. 

“Yeah, dude. What’s going on?”

Grabbing onto a loose fistful of Eddie’s leather jacket, Steve tugs him into the bathroom in one quick motion, and then shuts the door behind him with a click.

Eddie tries fervently to ignore the thrill that goes up his spine at being manhandled by Harrington. 

It shouldn’t come as all that much of a surprise, really, that Steve’s capable of it. Eddie might not know shit about sports, but he did know that Steve was on, like, pretty much every team known to Hawkins back when he was in school. So, of course he can tug Eddie around like a floppy-armed ragdoll. 

That said–Steve seems winded from the exertion, after he does it, leaning back to basically slump against the bathroom door. The move serves as a reminder that he’s a little worse for wear, at the moment, despite the fact that he definitely hadn’t showed it earlier. Not while he was busy running around the world hidden beneath their feet. 

“Harrington, seriously, man–you doing okay?” Eddie asks, wincing slightly in sympathy pains even as he tries to keep his tone light, conversational. 

“Just–give me like…one second here,” Steve holds up a finger for emphasis, the fact that his breathing is still clearly labored not doing much to soothe Eddie’s nerves. 

But he does as Steve asks, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him–a check in with absolutely no subconscious ulterior motive, thank you very much. 

And, well–Steve is a far cry from the pristine, preppy visage Eddie had gotten used to seeing swaggering around the halls of Hawkins High in his perfectly pressed jeans and popped collar polos. Here, in the lowlighting of the Mayfields’ bathroom, he’s bare-chested–apart from Eddie’s battle vest still slung over his shoulders–skin smudged with Upside Down soot, his sides mottled with angry crimson gashes where the bats had dragged him across rocky ground. 

That famous hair of his is still somehow swooping perfectly into place, though. Annoyingly enough, and as fucked up as it probably is…Eddie thinks he manages to be mouth-wateringly hot regardless, whether he’s totally polished under the high school’s harsh fluorescents or mussed and panting beneath the dim orange glow of the single working lightbulb currently flickering above the sink.

He’s gotta admit, though, in his fantasies of Steve Harrington cornering him alone in a bathroom–of which there had been none, obviously, because that would be ridiculous, not to mention colossally stupid–approximately zero of them had panned out like this.

Especially when the next words out of Steve’s mouth are a hurried, “Eddie, man, you, uh–think you can change this bandage for me?”

Eddie's eyes dart down to the scrap of Wheeler’s shirt wrapped around Harrington’s middle, the darkened stain of rust colored blood coating it–and, yeah, shit. Definitely makes sense now, why Steve dragged him in here.

“I’d ask Robin,” Steve is saying, “but, dude, you saw how she got about the rabies, and I really don’t wanna freak her out more than she already is. And Nance–well, after the shit she already went through tonight, I’m not gonna put this on her too. There’s Henderson or Sinclair, I guess, but–”

Steve bites at his bottom lip. And, sure, Eddie’s never been great in school, but he likes to think he can read people pretty well. It doesn’t exactly take a rocket scientis to put the pieces together, especially after the little show they’d put on in the living room–Steve doesn’t want the kids to realize just how badly he’s hurt, and clearly he doesn’t want to burden the girls, either. 

Eddie wonders exactly how he should feel about the fact that Harrington’s singled him out as the one he’s willing to let carry some of the responsibility currently weighing on his own broad, more than capable shoulders…and decides to take it as a compliment. 

“Harrington,” Eddie cuts him off by clapping a hand gently to his arm, meant to be reassuring, “you don’t have to sell me on it, man. I’ll do it. Happy to help.”

“Oh, okay…good,” Steve’s shoulders slump, like he was expecting to have to put up some kind of a fight. He catches Eddie’s eyes, giving him a quick, almost uncertain half-smile. “That’s–thanks, man.” 

Steve moves around him, then, allowing himself to collapse into a sitting position atop the closed toilet with a pained wince. 

“Don’t mention it. Uh,” Eddie spins around once in the small space of the bathroom, searching, “has Little Red got…alcohol pads, gauze, shit like that?”

“Under the sink,” Steve pants, one hand clasped against his side, “second door.”

That one simple sentence from Steve is enough to paint a picture in full. Steve’s been in the Mayfields’ trailer. He’s been in it enough times he knows where things like the first aid kit are kept. 

Eddie squats down, ducking his head below the counter–and spots it immediately, the slender first aid kit, exactly where Steve had said it would be.

And, sure, Eddie had at least been aware that Steve knew his mouthy little red-headed neighbor. Dustin and the other boys had often regaled him, disbelieving as he might have been, with tales of their incredibly cool babysitter, the former King of Hawkins High. Eddie had even seen Harrington’s infamous BMW parked over here a few times, a sight so surreal he couldn’t help but register it. 

But, still–there’s a difference in knowing abstractly and actually seeing the familiarity between Steve and the kids in words and gestures, his importance in their lives taking concrete, undeniable shape. 

Like Eddie had told him while they trekked across the woods in the Upside Down–the Steve Harrington of reality? Is nothing like the one he’d pictured all those years they’d shared space in the same halls and classes. 

“Seems like you know the lay of the land pretty well,” he can’t help but comment as he tilts his head toward the cabinet.

“Yeah, well, Mayfield wipes out on her skateboard a lot.” Eyes widening, as though he just realized what he said, Steve points in Eddie’s direction. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Eddie shoots Steve a toothy grin. “You scared of a fourteen year old girl, Harrington?”

“Absolutely,” the corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up into a half smile, “and if you know what’s good for you, you will be, too.”

“Trust me, man–I’ve got a healthy respect for Red’s fearsomeness. Even if I think she’s totally a lot softer than she lets on.”

Steve shakes his head, giving him a rueful smile. “You’re not wrong there.”

Popping open the kit, Eddie surveys their supplies. There’s an assortment of things inside, including an array of bandages in a variety of sizes alongside gauze, scissors, and hospital tape. 

“Jackpot.” 

Eddie holds up an alcohol wipe, shaking the little white package triumphantly.

“Great,” Steve agrees, though he sounds ragged, eyelids fluttering shut for a brief moment as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“You need me to,” Eddie tilts his chin towards the scrap of fabric wrapped around Steve’s middle, “undo that for you?”

“...Could you?” Steve asks, a flash of hesitance and uncertainty crossing his face. 

Eddie isn’t sure if Steve really thinks he might refuse, that he’s overstepping some kind of boundary by asking, or if it’s just costing him immensely to admit he needs the help. 

“‘Course I will, man. Absolutely. Said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Steve nods, then stands up, reaching out and gripping the bathroom sink briefly in order to steady himself. 

Once he’s up, Steve shrugs out of Eddie’s battle vest. The move puts himself–and that thick pelt of his chest hair over firm pecs, the hard planes of his stomach just above Nancy’s makeshift bandage–on full display…revealing the very physique Eddie had been desperately trying to get him to cover up by tossing him the vest in the first place. 

Eddie tries his damnedest not to ogle Harrington’s body too obviously, reminding himself of Steve’s wounds, of the task at hand. The task in which he’ll have to get up close and personal with Steve’s bare stomach. 

Jesus Christ. Maybe he’s still in Hell, and climbing out of that impossible, gravity-defying hole in the trailer’s ceiling had actually all been part of some elaborate fantasy. 

Eddie squats down in front of Steve, putting himself on eye level with his stomach. He shouldn’t be glad for the stain coating that strip of white fabric, the reminder of blood–he’s not, really, obviously he’s not–but he’s not mad about the fact that the sight is helping his boner just…calm the fuck down. Because now is absolutely not the time, but the wires in his brain can’t help crossing, taking very interested note of the fact that he’s all but kneeling in front of Steve fucking Harrington on a dingy bathroom floor. 

As Eddie reaches out for the makeshift bandage, he braces one hand on Steve’s hip to steady himself, his fingers grazing against the unmarred skin just below his wound. That initial brush is enough to have Steve sucking in a sharp breath.

“That hurt?” Eddie asks, spooked as he blinks up at Steve worriedly.

“All good, dude,” Steve shakes his head in answer before tilting it up to the ceiling, hands settling on top of his head.

He grips at his own hair tightly, mussing those luscious waves with the force of his tugs. The move is enough to have Eddie seriously doubting the truth of his denial. He’s got a feeling trying to argue the point, however, would get him absolutely nowhere. 

“Just keep going.” 

So Eddie does, unwinding the fabric in slow, careful movements, tongue poking unconsciously out from between his lips as he pours all his focus into the task at hand. 

He’s just managed to get off the first layer when Steve’s body gives a subtle shift, the only warning Eddie gets before the other boy sways on his feet. 

The pair of them let out an alarmed Shit! in unison just before Eddie catches Steve around the waist, careful not to press against his injuries.

“Dude! Holy shit, be careful!” he chides sternly. “You’re not gonna be a damn bit of good to any of us if you collapse on the floor and conk your head on the side of the tub or some shit.” 

Steve lets out a humorless laugh.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do about that, Eddie?” he asks, sarcasm on full blast as he gestures weakly to his belly, body still pressed close in Eddie’s arms. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not, like…exactly at full fighting shape here.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, man. Look around,” he thrusts out his free hand in exasperation at the empty bathroom. “It’s just you and me in here. So you can give up the heroic, stiff upper lip shtick for a minute, and just–I don’t know, hold onto my shoulder, or something. Jesus Christ, Harrington, scare a guy to death, why don’t you.”

Steve lets out a huff, but Eddie’s pleased to feel his body loosening beneath his touch, the line of his shoulders no longer so taut and rigid like he’s a warrior who’s about to be called right back onto the battlefield. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, you’re right, you’re right.”

“No shit I am, Harrington,” Eddie reaches over and bops him lightly on the end of the nose, “and don’t you forget it.”

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Uh-huh. No one likes a smart ass, Eds.”

But Eddie can see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up into a private half smile. 

They untangle themselves then, resuming their prior positions. Miraculously, Steve does as instructed, settling a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, large palm warm enough Eddie can feel the heat radiating even through his leather jacket. He really hopes that’s not a sign Steve’s running some kind of infection induced fever. 

So Eddie returns to the task at hand, peeling back the last scraps of Wheeler’s shirt, he and Steve grimacing in unison at the way it tries to stick steadfast to his skin. 

With the wound finally free, Eddie hisses in sympathy as his eyes dart all over the bite marks beginning to scab across Steve’s stomach. They look raw and angry, bright red where all the skin has been scraped off or gnawed through. He’s seen his fair share of cuts and bruises, from brawls at the Hideout to scuffles at school, but nothing quite like this. 

"Shit, man. We could really use a Healer right about now."

Steve lets out a wry little noise of agreement, understanding enough.

“Guess that’s gotta be you, Munson,” he says, giving Eddie a jocular, almost apologetic pat on the shoulder. 

Eddie can’t stop himself from shaking his head, because Christ, this guy–all heroic, death-defying stunts and sarcastic comebacks one minute, and then big, sympathetic puppy dog eyes the next. He kinda can’t believe he’s even real, let alone that this is what the Steve Harrington is like.

Scrambling to cover up how awe-stricken he’s suddenly feeling, Eddie shoots Steve a smirk as he quips, "Admit it, Harrington. You just wanna see how I'd look in the skirt."

Idiot, Eddie mentally berates himself, posture stiffening the second the words leave his mouth. Just because you’re a sixth year senior, that’s no excuse to be a fucking moron, do not flirt with the former jock King of Hawkins High. 

After all, just because he's hurt…that doesn't mean he couldn't break Eddie clean in half if he wanted to, and flirting with a straight guy is practically a one-way ticket to just that.

So shock hits Eddie with all the force of an ice cold bucket of water dumped over his head when Steve simply huffs out a laugh, good-natured.

"You caught me," he sticks up his hands, like he's surrendering in a hold-up. "That's been my real plan all along."

For once, Eddie’s too flustered to speak, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he feels the distinct heat from a blush spreading up his neck, splotching his face and ears. 

There’s a playful glint in Steve’s eyes, then, like he smells blood in the water. It’s nice, after everything that’s happened this evening, to see them shine with something other than the foggy glaze of pain. 

“Oh, seriously, did I catch you off guard with that one for a change?” Steve leans a little closer into Eddie’s space, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smirk. “What is it, Munson, cat got your tongue?”

Eddie finally recovers enough to shake his head and quip, “Can’t turn off that infamous Harrington charm for even a second, can you, Stevie? Bleeding all over the place, and you’ve still got it.” 

“Well, how do you think I get all the nurses at Hawkins General to take such good care of me when I end up there?” Steve shoots him a wink, being distressingly glib, in Eddie’s humble opinion, about the multiple trips to the ER he’s apparently got under his belt. “A little charm goes a long way, Eds.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, so they tell me.”

“Come on, man,” Steve waves a dismissive hand at him. “You’d know all about it.”

Embarrassingly enough, the mere suggestion that Steve Harrington finds him charming makes Eddie’s cheeks go even pinker.

He clears his throat, soldiering on quite valiantly, if you ask him. 

“Well, uh…Nurse Munson’s on duty tonight, and, in my totally accurate medical opinion, we need to get those scrapes cleaned up asap, big boy. No more dalliances,” Eddie wags a finger in his face, “and then I’ll think about letting you earn back your lollipop at the end.”

Steve laughs again. “Yeah, well, no way in hell I’m gonna miss out on that.”

But he stills dutifully, like he really is serious about being the model patient, earning back his treat. 

As he starts tearing open the alcohol pad, prepping for the next part, Eddie can’t help but shoot him a sympathetic look.

“Harrington–sorry, dude. This is probably gonna sting like a bitch.”

Steve’s grip, where his hand has settled back on Eddie’s shoulder, tightens, but Eddie refuses to shrug him away. As Steve nods his head, Eddie can see the way he’s clenching his teeth. 

“Just…try to make it quick, yeah? Lickety split.”

Eddie’s lips twitch in amusement from the dorky turn of phrase, yet another layer to Steve Harrington he finds irresistibly endearing. 

But he promises just the same. “You got it. Fast as lighting, that’s me.” 

Keeping his swipes gentle, Eddie begins to clean the wounds gouged into his sides. Almost instantly, he can see sweat beading on Steve’s brow. 

It feels kind of like a parody, of the handful of times Eddie had attended gym class, found his eyes lingering despite himself on Harrington’s glistening, Adonis-like form. Something inside him stirs, deep into caretaking mode, compelled to wipe the dampness away.  

He resists the urge, but just barely. And since there’s not much else he can do for the pain, Eddie figures conversation makes as good a distraction as any. 

“You know, I thought Dustin was full of shit before, but–you’re, uh. Totally babysitter extraordinaire, aren’t ya, Harrington?” 

“For all the good it does me,” Steve lets out a huff that’s at once amused and exasperated, and the sound is music to Eddie’s ears, breaking up the short, pained breaths from before. “Those little shitheads are total pains in my ass–but, I mean, somebody’s gotta keep ‘em alive, you know?”

“And that’s gonna be you, huh?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow up at him as he continues rubbing circles into his skin, doing his best to clean the gore and muck from the stretches that remain uninjured. 

Talking is helping distract him, too. Sure, he had patched up his dad as a kid, after a few jobs gone wrong, but, still–nothing that really held a candle to this. The less he thinks about the raw wounds spread out in front of him, the ones Steve is trusting him to help with, the better.

In honor of that, Eddie lets out a whistle. “Steeeeeve Harrington, big damn hero. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Shut up, man,” Steve complains, and even though the lighting is low, Eddie would swear there’s a pink tinge staining his cheeks, “it’s not that big a deal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Steven. It absolutely is. Total paladin behavior, in fact.”

The little confused furrow that appears between Steve's eyebrows is ridiculously cute. Eddie isn't sure how disgusted he should be with himself for what a lovesick thought that is.

"...Pala-what?"

“They’re like knights, basically. The D&D version. Championing a cause, protecting the weak and defending the innocent, restoring good to the lands. That sorta thing.”

Steve gives a short nod of understanding, his mouth forming a perfectly shaped oh. 

“I’d say the shoe–or, you know, armor, whatever–fits.” Still meticulous in his strokes with the pad, Eddie finds himself rambling. “Diving into that lake to protect the rest of us? That’s paladin 101, man. True heroic shit.” 

“I mean…it’s really not.” Steve shrugs ever so slightly, his lips tugging down into a small frown. “It’s what I’m good for, you know? Nance and Robin–hell, even the kids–they’ve got the brains part of this operation covered. They need somebody around to just…take the risks so they don’t have to.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up immediately at the implications of Steve’s words. 

“Well, well, will you look at that? Now who needs to cut himself a break?” Eddie asks, echoing what Steve said to him back in the Upside Down.

“Just the facts,” Steve says with a wan smile–parroting the phrase Eddie’s heard the youngest Sinclair use on the boys after she’s thrown out a particularly cutting remark, and not even having the decency to look bitter about it.

Eddie shakes his head, vehement. “That sounds like a crock of bullshit to me, Harrington. Don’t sell yourself short, not like that. You’re a badass, sure, no two ways about it–but those kids, out there? They’d be fucking…lost without you, man. Hell, when Buckley realized you’d gotten hurt? Looked like she was hanging on by a thread. They need you.” 

I need you, Eddie thinks, but can’t quite say it, his throat constricting anxiously around the words. Still, he catches Steve’s eyes deliberately, willing him to catch his full meaning. 

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to chew at it, Steve ducks his face for a second, dodging Eddie’s look. When he speaks again, it’s quiet but no less sincere.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie answers immediately, a smile breaking out across his face. “I mean, what’re friends for? You’d do the same for me–already have, even.”

“Oh, so you’re saying we’re friends now, Munson?” Steve crinkles his nose in amusement, inviting Eddie in on the joke.

“Well, I mean…hell pretty much has frozen over,” Eddie replies, playing along easily. “Besides, who else but us is there to band together, give Dustin a hard time so his head doesn’t get any bigger than it already has?”

Steve inclines his head, smile amused, soft. It’s a beautiful sight, one Eddie could get used to seeing. 

“Can’t argue with that.”

As Eddie finally finishes up cleaning the last of the scrapes and bite marks, he can feel Steve’s eyes on him, following his movements. 

“You know, you’re not half bad at this,” Steve observes thoughtfully.

Discarding the last of the alcohol pads, Eddie gives Steve a cordial half bow. “Why thank you, my liege. That’s high praise indeed coming from the king himself.”

“Never mind, I take it back. Your bedside manner sucks,” Steve says, deadpan, rolling his eyes. Then, he jabs a finger in Eddie’s direction, “And don’t call me that.”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to report me to the doctor on the floor, then…your royal highness.”

As Steve reaches out to shove his shoulder, Eddie lets out a delighted cackle, dancing just beyond his reach. 

“Strike what I said earlier, too. There’s no friendship bracelet in your future, dude, not with that attitude.”

Eddie lays a palm over his heart, gasping like he’s been hit. 

“Not the friendship bracelets, Stevie! What have I done to deserve such a cruel and unusual punishment? And after I helped heal your wounds, too.”

“Yeah, well, the job’s only half done on that front, Nurse Eddie. Better get back to it, and then I’ll think about letting you earn back your friendship bracelet. Maybe,” Steve says, mimicking Eddie’s ultimatum from earlier. “And you’d be missing out, too, dude. Just ask Robin, I come up with the absolute coolest designs.”

“Challenge accepted, Stevie boy. Prepare to witness the best bandaging you’ve seen since Boris Karloff’s The Mummy.” 

Steve’s lips twitch, like he’s trying to bite back his smile. “Thought you were trying to keep me alive, Munson, not turn me into a Halloween decoration.”

Eddie clucks his tongue. “Such limited imagination, Harrington. I assure you–I can do both.”

Gauze from the first kit at the ready, he gets right to work unspooling it, giving himself a suitable enough length to get started with ease. 

Now that they’ve managed to jump over that first major hurdle and Steve’s injuries have been thoroughly cleaned, the full magnitude of the situation hits Eddie all at once. A wave of tiredness, bone deep, rolls over him as he presses that first layer of gauze against Steve’s side, and he can’t help but say, “This whole thing is–completely and utterly batshit insane. You realize that, right?”

Steve’s got his arms raised over his head, now, but the slight tilt of his eyebrow might as well be a shrug as he looks down at Eddie, the quirk of his lips apologetic. 

“You kinda get used to it, after a while.”

“Get used to it? Jesus Christ–” Eddie groans in disbelief even while he keeps his fingers steady, holding the gauze carefully in place as he continues wrapping it around Steve’s stomach. “Don’t say that kinda shit to me, man.” 

“Sorry.” Steve has the decency to look chastened, though not nearly as apologetic as Eddie thinks he should.

“Like, sure, okay–dark wizards and magic, that’s great for D&D. But in real life? Kinda prefer that the evil alternate dimensions didn’t eat a hole in the ceiling of my uncle’s trailer, you know? Some of us need a place to live.” 

Eddie’s practically hugging Steve around the waist by the time he’s stopped talking, ready to secure his handiwork. There’s a bizarre kind of intimacy to it, Steve warm and solid in his hold, and Eddie wonders if Steve can feel it too when he glances up at him, silent communication passing between them that has Steve ripping off a long strip of medical tape and handing it down without having to be asked. 

So, needless to say, Eddie’s a bit distracted, finishing off the job and giving everything one final assessment, when Steve breaks the silence with two totally nonsensical words. 

“...the pool.”

Eddie blinks, startled enough he straightens up and gives Steve a full once over, wondering for a moment if the bats had gone for his head, too, without them being any the wiser.

“Wait–what?”

“The pool, at my place,” Steve trucks on, that determined clench to his jaw. Not from pain, this time, but something else. “That’s what it was–well, is–for me. The place, where the demogorgon attacked. It took Barbara–Holland? Nancy’s best friend. The first night that we…”

He trails off with a shake of his head. 

“Well, anyway. It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying, I get it. Maybe not to the level of, you know, having your whole goddamn ceiling ripped out, but–the Upside Down, all this shit. It takes things from us. All of us. And I’m sorry it happened to you, too, but…at least you’re not alone?”

Eddie gnaws on his bottom lip as he looks at Steve, watching the other teen wince. Like he just knows it’s not enough.

But the thing is…it is. Steve has to know that it is.

“To be honest, I think that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from just, I don’t know–shattering into a million little pieces, or something,” Eddie admits. “The fact that you guys–” 

Embarrassingly enough, his throat constricts, for a second, choking off his words. 

“...that you’re here. With me. Especially Buckley and Wheeler and Little Red–even Lucas, after I was such a shit to him…and you. I mean, you don’t even know me, not really, and the whole rest of the town is practically lined up outside with Carver, holding pitchforks…but not you. Pretty damn sure I’d never have even made it this far without that.” 

Steve clasps his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re not going anywhere, man,” he promises, gaze steady, hazel eyes so serious Eddie doesn’t dare doubt him. “We’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

Eddie takes a chance, settles his hand on top of Steve’s, gives it a squeeze in return. 

“I’ve got you, too. You know?”

Steve gives a little nod, his smile warm enough to light up his entire face. 

“I know you do, man. I know.”

And, for a second, looking back at Steve, the hope floods in, and Eddie lets himself believe it. That, with this merry band of misfit monster hunters standing behind him, there’s no choice–it’ll all turn out alright, in the end.  

—

By the time they make it back to the living room–“decent” again, Steve having immediately shrugged Eddie’s battle jacket back on over his now freshly wrapped bandages, the sight of which had made something in Eddie’s chest immediately flutter–Lucas is settling down on the couch with a patchwork quilt while Dustin bemoans his fate, loudly, as he piles blankets onto the floor in something that’s steadily resembling a nest. Eddie guesses, when he didn’t immediately come back, the pair of them must have gone on their own journey to raid the Mayfield’s linen closet.

“We said best of ten,” Lucas is saying with a sigh, the picture of put-upon patience, “not my fault you suck at rock-paper-scissors.” 

“It’s a game of chance!” Dustin squawks in protest. “There’s absolutely no skill involved. How can I ‘suck’ at some bullshit game that requires no strategy.”

Lucas shrugs, unperturbed. “You tell me.”

The noise Dustin lets out makes it clear he’s gearing up for a continued argument–when Steve drops a hand on his head, distracting him with a noogie. 

“No one likes a sore loser, Henderson.” 

“I am not a sore loser!” Dustin huffs, arms crossed over his chest and lip jutting out in something that dangerously resembles a pout. 

“Au contraire, my dear friend. You’re right about that, you’re not a sore loser. You are, in fact…” Eddie holds up a single finger, Dustin’s face brightening in that moment’s worth of anticipation, “the sorest of losers.”

The blue streak Dustin swears up is worth it for both Lucas and Steve’s guffawing laugh. 

He continues muttering to himself, low-voiced and difficult to make out apart from something that sounds distinctly like traitors in my midst, as he somewhat viciously tosses more quilts onto the ground.

“Gimme that,” Steve says without heat, taking several blankets from Dustin’s hands and spreading them out, laying a solid foundation for a pallet that he quickly uses the others to build upon. “Now, come on, man, quit complaining and just…lie down.”

Given the fuss Dustin’s been kicking up, Eddie can’t help but be impressed that Steve’s instruction is enough to actually get him to comply. The powers of babysitter persuasion strike yet again, it seems. 

Or, at least…half as he’s told, since settling onto the pallet still offers plenty of back talk on Dustin’s part. 

“I can’t believe this. My theories turn out to be correct all damn night, and still I get relegated to sleeping on the carpet. How is that fair?!” Dustin huffs. 

From his position on the couch, Lucas’s only answer is to snort, shaking his head. 

Hand on his hip, Steve cocks a single eyebrow, shooting Dustin the driest of looks. There’s something deeply wrong with Eddie, he’s pretty sure, that he finds the whole thing painfully attractive. 

"Dustin, man, it’s not a competition. Besides…beats the floor of a Russian elevator," he comments, and Eddie has no idea what the hell that is supposed to mean.

Dustin tilts his head from side to side, as though considering. Reluctantly, he says, "...Agreed."

Nodding, seemingly satisfied, Steve lays down on one side of Dustin. Eddie does the same, following suit until they’re bracketing him like a pair of parentheses. A warmth settles over Eddie, pleasant and bone-deep, as he tilts his face to catch Steve’s eyes, staring back at him from over the top of Dustin’s head. 

"Scoot over, dude. Eddie doesn't want your pointy ass elbows digging into him." Steve nudges Dustin in the side, causing the younger teen to readjust with a minimal amount of grumbling. To Eddie he says, sotto, "Trust me, man, I know. Those things are like daggers or something, I swear."

“Are not,” Dustin protests, though the words sound drowsy, his eyes having already drifted shut despite all the protests about how uncomfortable he’d been.

“Are too,” Steve volley backs effortlessly. Eddie catches the look he’s giving the kid, though, and it can only be described as fond amusement.

“Thanks for the warning, kind sir,” Eddie gives Steve a mock salute, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll be on the lookout for those deadly weapons being brandished in the night.”

“Can’t believe…ganging up on me…” Dustin murmurs, the last word trailing off as his breathing begins to even out. 

“You’re the one who wanted to introduce us, dude,” Steve argues softly, though it’s clear his words have fallen on sleeping ears. To Eddie he says, voice a whisper, “You believe this kid? The arguing never stops, man, even in his sleep.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back, parroting back Steve’s own words in the Upside Down, and the pair of them share a pleased, knowing grin.

And it’s comforting, the thought that sweeps through Eddie’s mind once he’s settled enough to start drifting off, Dustin’s snoring soft between them, Steve only an arm’s length away.

They’ve got Henderson. And as for Eddie himself?

Well…Harrington’s got him.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderfam #henderdads #the party #brotp: babysitter's club #buckington besties #my writing #my stuff #my things #missing scene fic #fellas is it gay to gently clean another man's wounds? you decide

[electricsynthesis]

keith galraisms post

physical characteristics

-his hair grows like 3 times as fast as a normal persons. it grows unusually thick and weirdly layered and textured. i imagine it having a texture that isnt curly or wavy or straight, but is sort of coarse and pointed. dense hair. this is why he has a weird mullet. he cuts it and then he wakes up a week later and the mullets back. i reblogged a post with this exact hc like 2 days ago but i stg ive had this opinion for years

-somewhere around 19-20~ his canines fall out. literally like humans' teeth do with baby teeth. they get wiggly and then fall out. and then he grows extremely pointed fangs in their spot. when he tells coran this, coran explains that this is common in galra to lose their milk canines and grow adult fangs. lance compares it to wisdom teeth and keith gets annoyed

-on a similar note, the reason keith has a full set of teeth despite being a troglodyte child who beats people up when pissed off is because he just grows his teeth back once theyre knocked out. this didnt happen with his baby teeth but once his adult teeth grew in, he would just. Grow new teeth. this unsettles him deeply everytime he thinks about it because humans are born with both sets of teeth. how is he doing this .

-he can see in the dark

-he has prey animal hearing. his ears perk up when he hears sharp distant sounds

-obviously i think he growls when hes pissed and purrs when hes happy. Who do you take me for. i do think this is one of those things keith assumed was normal until he was older and someone he was fighting made fun of him for "growling like a dog". i think, pretty vitally, he does not sound like a human growling andor purring. i think he sounds like a cat. he also hisses but texas kogane trained him out of that as a kid. as an adult (post galra-heritage arc) he sometimes does it anyway. connecting with his inner child <3

-more generally i think his voice toes the razor's edge of sounding like a normal human's. i think it lowers to registers and heightens to heights that sound only just like a human could make that sound

-his ears have always been pointed enough to be noticeable (texas kogane had him trained to keep his hair relatively long so it would cover them) but they only get pointier the older he gets. they never stick out or anything but one day in their twenties allura sees them and is like hey! youre like a baby altean! and keith doesnt live this observation down for the entire rest of his life

-his stupid purple eyes are canon and go without saying. and the whole "go yellow and slitted when hes pissed" is also canon and goes without saying. im bringing this up because in home again's 'verse, by the time the events of the fic are happening the only people whos actually seen this happen are lance and shiro, because keith got a little upset at some enemy combatants on a mission with them once, and when they told him he was like. what the fuck are you talking about. fuck no. you imagined that. and they swear UP AND FUCKING DOWN that no, keith, your eyes literally turned yellow. they went slitted. we didnt imagine it that really happened--

behaviors

-he bites people. in all contexts. violent. affectionate. sexual. if left unsupervised he will bite hard enough to draw blood so if its a lovebite you have to slap him away. unless youre into that i guess. this is one of those things he didnt notice until adulthood and he sat there like. head in hands. why is me being galra so fucking obvious in hindsight

-whether or not keith's temper and violent tendencies are the result of a childhood of violent bullying and general social neglect or if theres a genetic factor is entirely conjecture and everyone has a different, private opinion on the subject (keith's opinion is that it doesnt really matter), but its generally agreed on that his ability to power through lifethreatening injuries on pure adrenaline is a Galra Thing

-climbs trees like a spider monkey. generally likes being in places that are both high up and enclosed . if left to his own devices will start climbing around on shit. in the castle this is generally fun because theres big empty rooms that are entirely unused. but they all collectively realize this goes beyond castle exploration once they get back to earth and find keith on top of the fridge at 3 am. im talking completely relaxed while shoved as far in the upper corner of the room as he can possibly get

-hoards random shit he finds sentimental and keeps them shoved in various corners of his room. like a dragon. after they get together (sorry for sudden klance bias) lance is constantly accidentally finding his shit scattered around their room shoved into little corners. this is a love language to keith. hes hiding their beloved belongings in safe places. lance finds it EXTREMELY annoying because its early and he needs his moisturizer, keith, if its wrapped in my jacket underneath the bed again im gonna explode

the eternal question

-pidge: have you ever considered talking to a psychologist about you having autism keith: no. the orderly at the orphanage was convinced i was. but i'm obviously just galra. pidge: [exasperated silence]

#voltron legendary defender #keith kogane

[entropyvoid]

So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.

He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.

And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.

Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.

We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.

And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”

And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.

Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?

#honkai star rail #sunday #robin #hsr sunday #hsr robin #ch.txt #Oops! I accidentally did a whole Sunday analysis #Anyway uhhhh Sunday is actually an extremely well written character #And that part of the story was good actually

[dinogoofymutated]

Hello, I love your writing!! And the Kurt taking care of an overworked lover really melted my heart 🫠💕 could I ask for a similar prompt with Logan? He's my #1 X Men man. If this ptompt is too specific no worries, feel free to make it work within your own parameters- but I live with chronic pain/illness, so maybe it could be someone with a condition that flairing up and they refuse to rest/ask for help, making things worse, and Logan finally steps in, maybe scoops them up in his big arms and lovingly forces them to take a break? Logan has such a big protective heart under all his gruffness, and I think we need to see more of it in the Fandom.

💖 Love and Bless You 💖

Wolverine/GN!Reader UGH I love this request!! I hope it's okay that i didn't write about a specific illness, but describe a general chronic pain/mobility difficulty due to it. I need to write soft logan like this more often UGH- also, I was picturing the flirty Logan from Wolverine and the X-men here. He's infected my brain and I need more versions of him like that lol. TWS: Chronic pain/illness. flareups.

If there's one thing anyone knows about Logan, it's that's he's crazy observant, especially with that sniffer of his.

Sure me might not be able to smell when you're in pain, but I 100% thing that he just -knows- when something is off. It's like a sixth sense. Like you move in a particular way or eat your "fuck I hurt" food and he's on you like a goddamn bloodhound.

It doesn't matter how much you protest, or how much you fight him on it, he's not willing to budge when it comes to letting you rest- and if he can sneak in a few extra cuddles, or more time in bed with you, it's just a perk.

    Today has been a rough day since you woke up, and you knew it would most likely get worse. 

    You were having a bit of a flare-up. Well, you say a bit, in all actuality, it was an uphill battle from here. There was just something off the moment you woke up. Your joints were stiff and painful, everyday actions became a chore, and you were hurting much more than normal. But, if there was one thing about you everyone knew, it was that you were certainly stubborn. 

    You’re in the kitchen currently, resting at the table after popping a batch of cookies in the oven. Jubilee had been begging you to make her some sweet treats, and with her coming home from a rather long mission tomorrow, you decided to surprise her. Your body’s timing was… unfortunate, but there was no stopping you now. You were exhausted after making the dough, and rolling it into balls. After you had popped them in the oven you had painstakingly walked to the fridge to put the rest of the dough inside, muscles protesting each and every step. You had collapsed into the nearest chair, leaning your head back with a sigh, which is where you are now. You let your eyes drift closed as you wait for the timer to go off, relaxing into the seat.

    “Hey~” You jump at the sound of the voice, opening your eyes to see a smirking Logan, his arms draped across the back of your chair. You let out a huff, smiling at him. 

    “Hi Logan.” You say sweetly. One of his hands reaches down to run through your hair, and you feel like a cat as you eagerly lean into the touch.

    “How are you feeling?” He asks. You hum, grimacing at the question.

    “Fine?” You respond, an unsure tilt in your voice. Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

    “Don't bullshit me, sweetheart. I know somethings off.” Logan rumbles. You make a face, sitting up from the chair as normally as you can as the timer for the cookies goes off.

    “It's just a minor flare-up. It's fine, I'm fine. I have to finish baking these cookies for tomorrow anyway, so I don't really have a choice.” You say. If he sees the way you stumble a little, he doesn’t comment on it. Logan watches as you take a moment before you open the oven, resting against the counter. You realize that you may have gotten up from the chair just a little too fast as stars spot your eyes. After a minute of rest, hyper-aware of Logan’s eyes on you, you go for it. You barely crack the oven door open before Logan grabs you by the waist.

    “Alright, that's enough.” He says. You yelp as Logan drags you away from the oven. He takes the cookies out quickly before he turns around and immediately throws you over his shoulder. Your yelp is more of a screech this time.

    “Logan! Let me go- what are you doing?!” 

    “I'm not gonna stand back and watch you do this to yourself. I'm taking you to bed.” Logan huffs. He’s already walking you out of the kitchen and into the other parts of the mansion as you hit your palms against his back, trying to convince him to put you down.

    “But- I- the cookies!” You cry out. Logan has already gotten to your door opening it as he carries you inside.

   ��“I got it. Now just- relax.” He says, plopping you down on the bed. The action has you a little dizzy, and Logan leans in to kiss you on the forehead before he tucks you under the covers. 

    “I'm going to go get you some water and vitamins. Stay. Here.” You don’t have time to protest before he’s gone, having shut the door behind him. You want to get up and chase after him, tell him that you don’t need any special treatment and that you were fine on your own, but you’re not sure you can really run right now- and the comfort and warmth of your bed and covers are calling you like a goddamn siren song. 

    You drift in and out of consciousness in bed until Logan is back, with a glass of water and vitamins as promised. He hands you a flintstone gummy as he sits on the bed, and you can’t help but snicker. Logan rolls his eyes, still having delivered vitamins as promised.

    “What did you do about the cookies?” You ask as Logan peels back the covers to lie in the bed with you. He pulls you close as he settles in, rubbing his hands soothingly across the parts of you he knows tend to ache the most. 

    “I put a new batch in the oven. I’ll smell them when they’re ready.” He says. You roll your eyes at him, resting your head against his chest. 

    “Thank you, you know. Not just for the cookies, but… for caring.” You whisper. He huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss you on the lips this time.

    “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Just rest.”

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #wolverine headcannons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett headcannons #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett

[thatstupidplant]

So, I said I wohld have been gone for a while...

But I saw this artpeace  by @isjasz (her tumblr) and it became my reason to live

So... Enjoy this oneshot while it last :D

Ps: I wanted to post it on AO3 too, but I don't have an account and I found out there is a FUCKING WAITING LIST, LIKE- WHYYYY I DON'T WANNA WAIT FOR MAY 18TH

------------------------------------------------------

Hotguy looked at at the city from the ceiling, it all looked to peaceful during the night.

He immediately forgot what he was here for though, which was a problem and a very Scar thing to do. But unfortunately he wasn't allowed to be Scar at the moment. His train of though stopped when an arrow almost hit him.

Ah yes, Cuteguy.

Cuteguy wasn't the best one with bow and arrows, he was way better at a close battle, but he was good enough to startle Hotguy when needed. In this moment it was needed.

Hotguy turned around to see who almost made him blind, ready to trasform to atoms whoever attacked him, but his face got painted with a smile as soon as he looked at the slim figure above him, in a near roof trying his best not to die of laughter.

Scaf realized that the painter decorating his face also, accidentally, splashed a little bit of red.

Just a tiny bit, hard to see without the mask and impossible with it.

"Hotguy, wasn't expecting you to be early" the avian figure said while getting closer.

While the pink and white wings made an awfull distraction, the taller hero remembered that Cuteguy had to talk to him about something important

"Why do you think I'd be late? I wouldn't want my darling to wait" The taller hero said while jokingly kissing the other hero's hand.

Until he noticed something.

The mask was normal, his wings were normal, but the outfit was different: Cuteguy usually wore a white and pink attire, which made him the 'opposite' of Hotguy, but today he was wearing black shirt and pants with his jacket. That was his 'hidden' outfit, used when the avian wasn't meant to be seen (it was something Hotguy didn't need as much as Cuteguy because his outfit was already pretty dark)

Hotguy had dark hair, Cuteguy's were light; Hotguy was tall, Cuteguy had the intention to be; Hotguy was flirtous while Cuteguy was...

"Are you listening to me?"

Scar mind said no, but his expression said 'please don't ask me that'

"Oh yeah, totally"

Cuteguy folded his hands. A suspicious expression on his face.

"Then what did I say?"

Yep. He was screwed.

The brunette hero searched is memory, but it was empty.

"Youu... weerreee.... talking about... safety?"

"No."

Fuck

Yes, Hotguy was kind of screwed now.

"Ok, ok, I wasn't listening"

Scar said while moving his hands. Cuteguy slapped his face muttering something similar a 'this idiot', but Scar didn't hear it well.

"I was talking about what the public think of us!"

"And what does the public think of us?"

The avian started to mentally pray God to, please, have a smarter partner. But he started to remember all the time Hotguy had brillant ideas and hated the fact that he was just too innocent to be an adult man.

"The fact that everyone thinks we're dating, Hotguy"

Scar stopped. No, it wasn't Hotguy, it was Scar. The man hid his fear with the flirtuois smile and the confident attitude, but he couldn't lie saying the though of kissing those lips interested him...

'No Scar, you can fuck your collegue'

"And what is we made it true?"

Hotguy started to walk towards Cuteguy, with his sicure composure,a playful smile and an emotion Cuteguy couldn't innitially recognize.

But when the realization came, it made his stomach go upside down. Why did Hoteguy had lust in his eyes? He always joked about kissing him, calling him 'his boyfriend', offering his hand and playful flirting like these.

'Cuteguy' didn't have something to complain about it, but Grian hated how his face would become more and more like the red of his natural wings color.

He started walking back, searching to escape the bumping of his heart. He hit the border of the roof that, fortunately and unfortunately, had a small wall. He sat on the wall and waited. Hotguy stopped right infront of his face, looking in his eyes. Grian made his 'Cuteguy' mask fell off and decided to relax, just relax, even if Hotguy was always clingy it was rare to have him this close so maybe he should have just enjoyed the momeng. His expression calmed down, the sleepyness of the middle of the night appeared.

"So... do you accept my offe-"

Hotguy almost jumped when CUteguy's head landed on his shoulder. If you asked him, he would have said he was completely calm, but his heartrate said something else. Did Cuteguy really fell asleep on him? What was he suppose to do now?

"I'm not asleep, I just want..." Cute guys without continuing and putting his arms behind Hotguy's back.

They both remained there, too scared to scare the moment away by moving. After what we can count as some seconds, but for them seemed hours, Hotguy put his hands on Cuteguy's back making it the best hug Grian recieved in years.

When was the last time he was hugged like this? When was the last time someone cared so much?

They stayed there, waiting for the morning as the sun started rising from behind.

------------------------------------------------------

Author's note:

Idk if I like it or not, maybe I could make a second attempt in the future.

Anygays, gor now this is it, it was a pleasure feeling some Scarian, something that I will do more in the future with a ne-

*COFF COFF*

I MEAN... EH EH... NOTHING!

#scarian #desert duo #oneshot #Hotguy #Cuteguy

[smutoperator]

Livestream

Shin Yuna x Male Reader

Tags: amateur porn, anal fingering, big ass, butt spanking, chat comments, degradation, deep creampies, deepthroating, facefucking, fisting, fucking like animals, gonzo, human fleshlight, lube, mating press, POV, queefing, revenge, rough sex, sex on camera, sneakers, twerking

Word count: 5826.

Shin Yuna is a high-maintenance girlfriend. You can try your best, but you know that one single man can't satisfy her insane sex drive alone. She will cheat on you every time she gets a chance. Because more than anything, Yuna only cares about sex, no matter who provides it to her.

While Itzy was on tour, you knew Yuna had cheated on you multiple times abroad. She was born to fuck and is the most unloyal, slutty girlfriend that could ever exist. You know it; she knows it. So, as soon as she arrived back home after touring for many months, you made her a proposal.

"Look, Yuna, I know you fucked countless guys while you were away. You're a dirty whore after all, but if you accept this deal, I won't give a shit," you told her. "So, what's the deal?" she asked. "I'm going to fuck you on camera, and everyone is going to see it; show them who the real owner of your slutty body is," you replied.

"So you want to record a sex tape of me? I guess it's fine. It didn't hurt Kim Kardashian when she got hers leaked, did it?" she said. "Basically, but we are going to do it live. I know you fuck better than you sing, so you have no excuse not to put up an amazing performance," you poked her.

"Sure, bring the cameras on," Yuna invited the challenge, creating an account on OnlyFans going by her English name Hussey and teasing her subscribers as she counted down the days for the livestream. You brought one of your friends to be the camera operator and got yourself a handcam to film Yuna's sexy body up close. 

The stream started with you filming Yuna's beautiful, naughty face as she walked towards the bedroom. You two were about to set this whole thing up. You two kissed each other in front of the cameras. Yuna then moved in the direction of the bed. Her upper body was completely clothed, but she left her lower body already half naked, with just her panties on. Yuna was truly a natural; she always knew where the camera was and made sure to make the horniest expressions to tease the audience.

You grabbed Yuna by the neck, which brought the first massive cheers from the crowd in the comments. "Choke this bitch," they said. Yuna got on her knees on the side of the huge bed that was waiting for her, licking her tongue as she stared at the camera. You jumped your mouth on her neck like a vampire and gave her a little hickey. The room's camera zoomed on her to show it and captured her very silent but sexy moans.

The kissing and choking session continued until Yuna lied her back on the bad. The aerial view of her body was sensational, as her panties were so small that viewers could already take a glimpse of the outer edges of her pussy. You lifted her shirt and gave the audience the first peek of her boobs from the lens of your handcam. When Yuna puts her hands on her panties, you switch the angle to let them watch her teasing her pink pussy.

You unbuttoned Yuna's little skirt and put her legs over her head, letting the audience get a better view of her lower body. You licked her fabric as you teased her, and she moaned. You moved your tongue all over her thighs and hips as she spread her legs, and you gave her a little spanking.

You finally unveiled the gates of heaven, pushing Yuna's thong to the side and giving viewers the first look at her perfect pussy. "I want to fuck that pussy now," one of them commented. You teased it with your hands, poking her asshole as well and filming it. Yuna enjoyed your touch, especially when you dove to give her cunt a kiss.

You picked up some lube and poured it around Yuna's genitalia, knowing it was going to be tight even if her pussy had served as a sleeve for more than a hundred cocks during all those months of touring. Her meaty lips were driving both you and the crowd in the comments insane. You rubbed her clit hard from the start, searching for that heavenly nectar you knew she would soon gush out of it.

You inserted a pair of fingers inside Yuna's tight cunt, making her moan louder, with your thumb rubbing the hood of her clit. You already panted with the way her walls clenched around your fingers, knowing your cock wasn't going to be an easy task. Yuna is such an experienced whore; her body knows exactly how to react every time a strange object goes inside her vagina, and she makes sure to coat your fingers full of juices.

"Oh shit," you panted, already out of breath, as Yuna used her own hands to finger herself. "Damn, she must be really tight," someone commented. Indeed, she was, so much so that if your fingers had a way to shoot cum, they would be filling her pussy to the brim. Meanwhile, Yuna just moaned and enjoyed you digging deeper inside her. 

You gave Yuna a little taste of her juices, which she loved. "Give me some spit," you ordered her as her face filled the camera's lens. This time, you finger-fucked her even faster, making her moan harder as you fisted her entire cunt, which Yuna took with ease, treating your arms just like an oversized cock and showing the flexibility of her vaginal muscles.

You couldn't resist for long and showed your bulging erection to the audience. Yuna smiled and quickly helped you, unbelting your pants and taking them off quickly, placing one hand on your throbbing shaft and another in her pussy. "What a nice cock," someone commented. It could have been Yuna herself, because she was already ready to take it.

Yuna quickly guided her mouth into your pecker. You zoomed right into her face, giving the perfect view of her slowly making it disappear down her warm throat with her eyes wide open. "She looks like a human fleshlight," one comment said as she loudly bobbed her head on your dick and spat all over it.

Yuna took your cock fully deep in her throat, giving you the green light to fuck her beautiful face. Your handcam had zoomed so close that viewers could see the veins both on your shaft and in her face. Her eyes turned red as she choked harder and harder on that dick, a view you wouldn't get in most professional POV porn scenes.

"Fuck her face," the crowd commented. You did just as they ordered, but soon learned it was one of those situations where an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, as Yuna managed to take all your cock in and fight back, making you come really close to a premature ejaculation. You saved yourself by giving her a huge tap in her cheeky ass that made her react by gagging and pulling your cock out, creating a string of saliva between it and her chin while doing so.

"Give me more," she ordered as you rubbed your shaft against her mouth entrance. You knew you had to think outside the box to tame this brat. She was clearly coming out on top, moving now to twist your cock while taking it in her mouth. "Just like that," you told her. But you knew you had to end her fun if you wanted it to last long; otherwise, Yuna would milk you dry rather soon.

"AHHHHHHH!" you screamed as Yuna deepthroated you and just couldn't detach herself from your hips. You were forced to use your salve valve once again, spanking her ass for a second time. Your tip was full of her bubbling saliva, but Yuna kept looking at you as if she wanted more, licking it before she took it back in her mouth. "Holy shit that bitch knows how to milk a cock," a comment said.

Yuna was driving you insane; the harder you fucked her face, the harder she throated your meat. "Bitch wants to choke on that dick, lol," another comment said. It was time you finally showed her who was in control, but she was only getting bolder, kneeling on the bed and shaking her ass in front of the camera.

Yuna continued to throat and spit on your dick as you lied on the bed. But this time you were having none of it. Using your leg, you reached over her head and locked it, pushing your hips up and pounding her face. "Choke this bitch," the comments ordered, cheering as you fucked her face like a fleshlight and turned it into a mix of her spit, your meat, and her messy hair.

"Yes, take it, all the way deep," you ordered as you dunk her head right into your shaft. Both her cheeks now had matching tones of red. Her naked belly in front of the camera turned viewers on. "Dude needs to put a baby in that tummy," they said. But nothing got more attention than her arched-up ass while she choked on your meat. "Girl got a nice ass," the comments poured on.

The stream kept alternating the camera angles between your handcam and the bedroom's cam. Either angle, Yuna looked hot on both; one satisfied those who wanted to see her beautiful face full of cock and saliva, and the other was a treat for those who loved her hourglass body, especially when she started licking your balls like a needy puppy, leading to her shirt sliding down and unveling more of her torso.

"God damn it," you couldn't believe what you had just done, getting yourself on the edge even further as Yuna showed you she essentially had a throat made of steel. The more you pounded, the harder she could take it. "Hmm yeah, I see daddy loves when his girlfriend chokes on his dick," Yuna finally said a word besides just moaning, smirking at the whole situation and your struggles to survive the human embodiement of sex.

Yuna just couldn't stop throating your shaft. "Is this what you guys wanna see?" the chat moderator asked. "Yes, make that bitch choke on his dick," the comments answered. And Yuna was giving exactly what they wanted, coating your cock full of saliva.

You slapped Yuna's body and forced her to stop to avoid cumming earlier. As you took some time to recover from her throat attack, viewers were treated to Yuna's amazing half-naked body. "Damn, I love her legs," one said. This time, you stood up and let her lie on the bed, zooming as her tongue worked all over your balls while she used one of her hands to jerk you off. You reached under her blouse and started massaging one of her perky boobs, moaning as she filled your balls full of her lipstick, and viewers could see your cock throbbing to the fullest at the camera.

Yuna kept having fun with your balls as you slowly unveiled her torso, groping her tits a lot while doing so. "Hot slut," one commented. You fucked her face as it hung on the edge of the bed, preparing yourself for the next steps, but not without punishing her into your personal onahole, unleashing your anger over her fucking all those cocks while on tour as you pounded her face, pinched her tits, and poked her navel.

"Open your eyes, open your eyes, cunt," you ordered her as Yuna tried to close them. Your shaft hit her whole face, and your balls slapped hard on her nose and eyes. She gagged and turned into a mess of saliva, to the point where it almost looked like you had given her a bullseye cumshot. You were now shoving your balls deep in her mouth alongside your shaft, taming Yuna in the roughest way you could think. It was what she deserved for being a horny cheater who only thinks about sex 24/7. "Keep your eyes open; let them see," you told her, as the audience agreed. "Keep it open, whore; show us how much you want this cock," they said.

Yuna may have wanted your cock a lot, but at that point you wanted her pussy even more, pounding her face as you previewed what you wanted to do to her cunt. "Bitch looks so dumb choking on his dick," one commented. It really turned on the thought of degrading her in front of an audience of thousands, so you kept going, making sure to give them the best looks of Yuna's sorry, bitchy face getting completely obliterated by your massive monster cock.

"Turn around," you told her as her big ass now filled the camera's lens. "Wow, she's got a nice ass," the comments said. But better than her ass were her dangling, meaty pussy lips just hanging in there with a piece of fabric right beside it. You poured some lube at Yuna's lower parties, zooming so close that the camera managed to show the pores of her shiny, lubed butt.

You pushed Yuna's thong further to the side, removing any obstacle in your way. You teased her, rubbing your shaft against the cracks in her ass as your tip touched both her holes and your thumb fingered her asshole. "Which hole, guys?" you picked up your phone to ask. "Pussy!" "Ass!" the comments alternated at an almost 50-50 split. "You guys can't decide," you said. "I guess it'll be up to this whore right here," you said.

Yuna grabbed your shaft and made her choice. "Put it inside you," you told her as she guided it right into her tight pussy just as you two had scripted it. "Ahhhh," you let out a groan as her tightness always manages to surprise you, so much so that it was Yuna who moved first, swinging her hips to clash against yours even on all fours.

"Ahhhh, yes, baby, bury it deep in your pussy," you told her. Yuna enjoyed that even in the most submissive position, she could own your cock. Heck, she could own any cock; they were always whipped, throbbing, and hard, ready to enter her holes at any second.

"Take me, daddy," Yuna orders, arching her hips even further up. Her ass cheeks are already red and on full display for the audience. You zoom closer towards your cock, going in and out of her pussy, which leads to some complaints. "We want to see her ass," some comments say. You oblige, grabbing Yuna's ass as you pound her and showing it on camera.

It doesn't take long for you to pump fast. "Shit," you groan as her pussy crushes your massive shaft like nothing. You take very long thrusts inside Yuna, going all the way and then pulling all the way out. Her moans are a mix of sexy and cute, straight out of JYP's school of slutiness.

Yuna takes your cock with ease; you're just another guy for her countless count. The same can't be said about you. This is the first time you fuck her since she started touring, and adjusting to her ultra-tight pussy proves to be very challenging. Meanwhile, for Yuna, it's just the best sensation; a big cock stretching her holes while holding itself not to burst at any second makes her feel really special.

"Damn, I'm really that slut; Daddy is struggling not to fill that pussy to the brim, right?" she asks. You ignore her provocative ways, trying not to let her get into your head. But you already know her pussy already owns the other head on your body, making it throb and pulsate each time it touches the depths of it.

You let Yuna swing her hips freely, taking some time to record it. She doesn't make it any easier on you, slowly descending on your cock at each bounce. She lets the audience know how much she loves it by winking her asshole right as it gets to the center spot of the camera.

"Come on, bro, fuck the shit out of her; that whore is begging for it," one guy comments. You lose your cool and start pushing fast, spaking Yuna's ass every five seconds. "Fucking dirty slut," you tell her. Her pussy turned you into a primitive ogre that can only pound, spank, and groan while doing so. The camera zooms out and shows you taking on Yuna, who stays like a perfect submissive cocksleve. "Just like that," you tell her as her moans get louder and the camera switches to a top view of her slutty body, with Yuna having to cling to the bed to endure the intensity of the pounding you're now giving her.

"Get this shit in your pussy, whore," you tell her. "Oh my God," she moans as you get rougher, taking your clothes off. Yuna, however, takes advantage of you slowing down and goes back to swinging her hips. "Come on," you tell her, loving the way she bounces and clashes against your hips.

Yuna almost makes you burst once again as you escape yet another close call. She slows down and brags about her perfect, tight pussy. "Tell me, Daddy, you were sick of those fleshlights while I was on tour, right? They can't hold a candle to my tight little pussy, right?" she provokes.

You respond by hammering her even harder. "Fuck me hard, daddy," Yuna tells you, her knees almost falling out of the bed. You do as she wants, bringing her body up and choking her. "Hahaha, choke that bitch," the comments enjoy it. Yuna closes her eyes and licks her chops, a moment the camera captures perfectly.

Yuna's legs get weaker as she loses her breath and collapses into the bed. You take advantage of it and plow into her pussy from behind as you start prone-boning her. The camera moves to the back and shows her wide open pussy turned into a fleshlight as you pound the shit out of it. "Holy fuck, he's going to destroy her," some comment. She starts moaning, her long legs up in the air with just her sneakers on, your faces no longer visible on the camera as you two turn into an animalesque fucking where you're just a raging bull pounding a slutty cow.

"Oh fuck," Yuna moans as you make her completely helpless. The bed starts shaking, and loud noises come from its supports cracking as they try to hold it in place despite you burying your cock deep in Yuna's cunt and pressing her body as hard as you can against the mattress. "Look at her pussy farting," some say in the comments as you stretch it out nonstop and it starts queefing. The more it goes, the less you feel compelled to stop, and as much as Yuna is getting completely obliterated, so does she.

Yuna tries to fight back and arches her ass up. That only makes the crowd react even better. "Bro is fucking her like a dog," one comment says. The loud noises from her pussy getting wetter as you pound her confirm she really likes it rough. You go so hard, her long legs start to swing, and her sneakers hit the camera. "Oh, oh, oh," she moans. That only makes you go more animalesque, putting your body fully on top of her and penetrating her pussy at a straight angle.

"Damn, he's mounting on top of her," a comment says as the camera zooms into your cock, completely stuffing Yuna's cunt and eviscerating her body into submission. Yuna pretends to fight, but she can't do anything; you just bury your cock further deep in her pussy and behave like a dog in heat. "God, he's such an animal," a comment says as you remain on top of Yuna for a good five minutes and she starts howling at each thrust, with her turned into nothing but a cocksleeve.

"Fuck me, daddy, don't stop," Yuna commands. Not like you intended to stop at all; you own her pussy now. The stream viewship reaches further peaks as word of mouth starts to spread out, and people are really enjoying what they are seeing.

"Destroy that bitch," the comments command you. With one hand, you pink Yuna's body; with another, you spank her fat ass. "This is what a proper whore looks like," the comments continue as the camera shows an utterly hopeless Yuna completely pinned to the bed, her naked back and thong to the side making her look like a cheap prostitute.

You push Yuna's body sideways for the viewers better enjoyment. She is completely out of breath as you switch into a spooning position, but keep the intensity. Her little boobs bounce to the camera as you kiss her while pounding the shit out of her. Yuna spreads her legs and reaches down to finger herself. She grinds her teeth, as even for such an experienced slut like her, taking so much cock at such a fast pace is hard.

You take a more passionate approach with Yuna, filling her beautiful face full of kisses, but not forgetting the roughness as you choke her and stay pounding her at all moments. But soon, your animalesque side takes over again as you make it harder and harder for Yuna to breathe, choking her so hard she coughs. But better for you is that the more you choke her, the harder her pussy tightens and throbs.

As you slow down, Yuna, still recovering from the pounding you gave her, lifts her legs for you to finally take her thong off completely. Viewers get the perfect view of her pussy, with her danling inner lips and long outer lips in full display. Yuna then takes her shirt off as you massage her boobs, getting fully naked except for her sneakers. You two kiss each other, then you lower her head and feed her the juices from her cunt.

Yuna looks at the camera; her fully naked body is a treat to the audience. She teases the crowd. "What do you guys want next?" she asks. But you quickly try to put her in her place, shoving your cock back in her cunt and fucking her as the camera captures her body in a close-up and Yuna puts her fingers in her mouth.

The high-intensity affair that follows proves a missionary fucking isn't always vanila. You and Yuna give full effort, entertaining the viewers with torrid fucking and multiple hot moans from her and animalesque groans from you. Her boobs jiggling and the bed cracking as you pick up the pace offer and extra teasing—that gets even better with the close-ups of your cock stretching her pussy out.

Yuna's pussy only gets tighter as the fucking goes on, forcing you to pour even more lube. This time, you entertain the audience by placing it not only in her crotch but also all over her naked torso, making her giggle as the cold liquit hits her erect nipples and perky boobs. Yuna spreads the lube over her body as you continue to fuck her, helping you slide your hands with more ease and tease her as you film her body as eye candy for the viewers.

"Show them your pussy," you say as you zoom into Yuna's cunt and spit on it and finger it as your cock keeps pumping it. The camera captures your pounding perfectly, with you zooming in and out and teasing Yuna's boobs to the audience as well. She moans as you pick up the pace and work all over her clit. "Cum for the camera, baby," you order her, as the clit-fingering continues all the way until Yuna blasts her juices into the lens filming her.

You spank her cunt shortly after Yuna cums. "Good girl," you tell her, groping her tits too, rewarding her with a mating press fucking that ramps up the intensity even further. Viewers can't even see her face as your frame completely covers it, but what they can see damn well is Yuna's ass jiggling and wobbling as you clash your cock right against her hips.

"Damn girl, where did you get that ass?" one comment asks. Yuna holds her legs up and grabs her sneakers as you pound her even harder, choking her again as well. "Stupid cheating whore," you tell her as you spit on her face and top her completely. "Oh my Godddddd~" Yuna can barely breathe as you manhandle her pussy, making her look completely limp and helpless, with your balls slapping her cunt at each thrust.

Yuna tries to escape from your grasp, but she looks completely numb now. She flashes her pussy to the camera, as it doesn't take long for you to fill it again. Her boobs get groped as you spoon her into the bed. "Dude's addicted to her pussy; she must be amazing," someone comments.

Yuna looks at you with her eyes full of lust; one of your hands stays on her neck; another grabs her tits as you passionately continue to fuck her; and she rediscovers what made her fall in love with you: pure, raw, unfiltered hard sex. "You're a fucking animal, daddy," she tells you, as at this point you can only think of fucking her pussy until you die.

The stream stays for a good 10 minutes on some sexy and passionate action between you and Yuna as you two enjoy each other with lots of fucking between hugs and kisses, trying as many positions as possible, but with you taking control as always and turning Yuna into your submissive fucktoy until you finally manage to get tired. Still overwhelmed by so much sex, you and her take a break as Yuna knees and throats your cock with her ass turned right to the camera.

"What a delicious ass," one of the comments says as Yuna ruins what was still left of her makeup by diving deep into your cock. She slowly blows your pipe up, savoring every inch of it and covering it full of her spit as she gargles all over that dick. "Are you ready to sit on it?" you ask her. Yuna doesn't answer, instead taking some good minutes twisting it and getting increasingly sloppy, going all the way down your balls to throat it, and then licking your throbbing shaft as it pulses.

Yuna puts on a great show for the camera, moaning as she sucks your dick and fingers herself. "I want a camgirl like this for me," a comment says. Her little performance captivates the audience. "Now that's a slut who knows what to do," as all eyes focus on her, with Yuna winking to the camera as she deepthroats you to the fullest and covers your cock even further with spit.

You barely survive Yuna's deepthroat as she keeps worshipping your cock, her perky tits bouncing as she makes a mess of your dick, and groaning as she rotates her mouth on it. "Bitch is biting that dick like a dog," a comment says. "Fuck my face," she demands as you get back on top of her. "Lmao, look at her dumb face." The comments continue to fly as you fill her mouth full of cock and bulge under her throat.

Yuna licks your balls as you rub your cock all over her slutty face and make her choke on it further afterwards. She loves the way you treat it like a fleshlight. "Now I think it's ready for me to sit on it," she says.

Yuna positions herself as you guide her cock back into her pussy. Her big ass occupies a large chunk of the frame as your cock slowly disappears under her cheeks. Her moans when she descends down that dick are extremely sexy, as she starts bouncing her ass all over that cock, already putting you on the edge. "Damn, that girl knows how to shake that booty," someone comments.

The camera keeps filming Yuna twerking her ass on your dick as she tries different angles and leads the crowd in the comments to go wild. "Bounce that ass, bitch," they comment. Her performance is so sensational and immersive that it feels like she's bouncing on the cock of someone in the audience. "Oh my God, ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh," she moans as you hit her cervix. "Damn, this is way better than VR porn," someone comments.

"Oh damn, that's perfect," you tell Yuna as she moves towards fast and straight bounces. Her fat ass causes a quake each time it hits your hips. "Damn, I love that angle," someone says as Yuna's butt is right at the center of the screen and keeps being the star of the show. When you accidentally slide out of her pussy, Yuna starts to tease you, grabbing your shaft and rubbing it all over her butt, paying special attention to her asshole as she pokes your dick on it a few times.

"Come on, keep going," you tell her as Yuna puts your cock back inside and smashes it with hard and violent bounces. "Girl is giving that dick a workout," a comment says. You spank her ass as she gives you yet another close call, but that only makes her go harder. "Spank that bitch," people command in the comments.

You put an end to Yuna's slutty show as you get back on your feet, putting her back on all fours and pointing the camera right at her ass. Your cock pumps her hard and deep as viewers watch it to the fullest, seeing your shaft go in and out of her. More ass-spanking ensues as Yuna begs you. "Spank me, Daddy, please," she says. The camera keeps moving but always lands at a spot where viewers can see a lot of her fat ass while your big cock stretches her pussy.

The camera finally zooms out of Yuna's big ass, and viewers get a glimpse of how tired both of you are after almost an hour of fucking like animals. You two keep going regardless, trying to find every extra dose of energy just to enjoy each other's bodies to the max. At this point, Yuna can barely move, as you are completely on top of her.

You give Yuna a break as you two switch sides, and she gets back on top of you. The camera zooms out back into the crowd's favorite asset. If they want her ass, then let's show them as Yuna sits back on your pole. Her eagerness for sexy goes so far that she is bouncing hard the moment you're back inside her. "Ahhhh, yesss," she moans. Both of your bodies get close and wrapped against each other as you two share the love for each other as you suck her tits while she bounces on you.

Yuna grabs your chest and keeps bouncing, but can barely endure more than 10 seconds now. She's exhausted; her heavily pounded pussy is throbbing. You just slow down and make love with her. Until she delivers the message.

"Breed me, Daddy," she tells you, making you flip a switch. The animal inside you awakens as you put her back against the edge of the bed and give her a hardcore mating press. The crowd in the comments starts to go wild. New viewership peaks are hit every second, and little did they know things were about to get spicier.

Yuna becomes your submissive fucktoy as you spread her cunt for viewers to see. You then slowly mount on her and ragdoll her body. "Holy shit, he's going to destroy her," the people in the comments say. The cameras capture what is essentially a real-life hentai. You, on top of her, press Yuna's body down the bed as you plow the shit out of her pussy. Her face completely disappears, as all viewers see now is her big ass bouncing at each thurst.

"Ahhhh, yessss, fuckkk," Yuna moans as your cock obliterates her pussy. Now you're only going to stop when you cum. The rampage keeps going on as the comments flood the chat. "Pump your cum deep inside her." "Keep fucking the shit out of that bitch," "Destroy this slut," "Look how hard her ass bounces," and so on.

"Give me, please, cum in my pussy; oh my God, give me your cum," Yuna begs, her voice cracking as she can barely stand straight after over an hour of pounding. You start screaming, and soon you grant her wish. "AHHHHHHHHHH," you yell as you empty your balls in her pussy, getting so addicted that you keep fucking her even after you finish. 

"Holy fuck, he just can't stop," the people in the comments say as you fuck Yuna until your last drop of cum hits her pussy, resting on top of her with your cock still buried deep in her cunt as you kiss her. "Dang, that was hot," someone in the comments says.

You finally pull out of Yuna. Her pussy is filled to the brim. "Oh my God," she says, not even thinking straight. She was not on the pill and started thinking she'd get pregnant soon. You bring up a speculum and insert it in her cunt, showing viewers how much you filled it up. "Damn, bro turned her into a cum dump," one says as they watch your seeds resting in her throbbing cervix.

As you remove the speculum, Yuna masturbates herself, trying to expel the cum from inside her pussy, with the broadcast ending as she coats her camera full of her juices after a hard squirt. "Ohhh, fuck," are the last words as the livestream ends.

"You did so well today, you fucking whore; guess you missed daddy's cock," you tell Yuna, already off-camera. "And you missed my tight pink pussy, didn't you?" she replied back. You call your friend in the other room, who was operating the broadcast. It turns out he had come on his pants while doing so, unable to resist the sex appeal of Yuna.

The livestream ends up being an amazing success, getting lots of views and bringing tons of money to both of you and Yuna. "You made a great choice of thumbnail there," she tells your friend, talking about her choking on your cock.

Seeing the success of her first attempt, Yuna asks you:

"Hey baby, want to do another one?" she asked

"Maybe later, what do you want this time?" you reply

"I don't know. Maybe anal. A DP. Or even a gangbang where you watch me get destroyed by half a dozen cocks."

Damn, the more you give her, the more she wants. Yuna is, indeed, a very high-maintenance girlfriend. 

#yuna smut #itzy smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

[wosoluver]

Healers got to date protectors - Headcanons

tw: suggestive content

Misa x physio!reader

Moving in with her

"Hola amorcito." said misa walking into your apartment. "Having fun packing?"

"Oh yeah, love to put things in boxes and name them." you said ironically. "Can you help me with the stuff in the spare bedroom? I wanted to finish that before moving to the kitchen and living room."

"Of course. What are you doing with all the furniture?"

"Lucky most of it came with the apartment. And I'm donating everything that I won't be taking. Like the rug in my bedroom."

You two started to get to work. You had forgotten how much you had managed to fit into the little closet.

It felt weird to be moving. This apartment had been one of your first steps to becoming a 'big girl' and now here you were taking another step forward.

"A DJ controller?" she said pulling it out of the closet.

"Yeah, I failed miserably at it. So donation pile."

"You have so much stuff amor."

"I know, it's a bad habit."

"We'll make space for all your stuff, promise." you got up to press a kiss to her lips. "But please get rid of at least half of it." she said half joking.

"Aw look at this stuffed animals! What if we keep this one and give it to Miles?" you said holding up a lamb plushie.

"It's cute, he's going to destroy it."

"At least he'll have some fun. The others are going to that pile." you pointed once again to the donations.

Things has started lightly, but slowly it became more serious, coming to the realization, of what sharing a life with someone would be like.

You were halfway through when Misa loudly gasped.

"Is this what I think it is?" she said, holding up a photo album.

"Yes... when I moved alway from my parents' home, I got some of my favorite childhood pictures to bring with me."

"Can I open it?" you nodded, sitting on the floor by her side.

"You were the cutest baby amor." she said flicking through the pages.

"Oh my god, this was in a park close to my house, we would beg my mom to take us there. I hated sports, so instead of playing with my brother, I'd aways go towards the flowers, to try and find ladybugs." you said showing her the picture.

"Hated sports huh?" she said, giving you a light shove. "Why ladybugs?"

"I don't know. They just fascinated me. My brother would try to take them away, to piss me off. We would fight over it every time."

"So you were a protector before you were a healer." she said with an enchanting smile plastered on her face.

"Well, they were too precious to be hurt."

"That's exactly how I feel about you."

You looked into her eyes lovingly. This woman would be the death of you.

She kissed you deeply and as things became more heated, you straddled her, needing to feel more.

She straightened one of her legs, and accidentally knocked over some boxes.

"Fuck" she said under her breath.

"Ignore it. Please." you whispered hoping to just keep going and mind the mess later.

"At least now you've properly said goodbye to this place." she said fixing herself up, so you two could continue the packing.

You laughed and hit her arm. "You're unbelievable."

#woso x reader #misa rodriguez #misa rodriguez x reader #real madrid femenino #espwnt