Recently, I was standing outside my son’s classroom waiting to talk to his teacher. I stood on one side of the hallway, not even close to the center. At some point, a man came walking along. I was standing right in his path, but the hallway was empty, so I logically expected him to swerve around me. Instead he kept walking right toward me, got to me, and stopped, as if waiting for me to get out of his way. I didn’t; I just smiled politely at him. He finally walked around me, clearly annoyed that I hadn’t leapt out of his manly path.
Now I’m wishing I’d leapt aside, taken off my jacket and laid it on the floor before him, then bowed deeply and said, “My Liege!”
I also work at a college campus. I smack shoulders sometimes, but I find that if I stare straight ahead and follow the advice below, people get the heck out of the way.
Honestly this post changed how I carry myself when walking alone in public, or in a situation where I’m the one leading. People definitely move for the murder gaze.
Confirmed. I once had to rush back inside a convention hall as the con was closing in order to a retrieve a sick friend’s medication, and I didn’t understand why people in the crowd were jumping out of my way (literally—one guy vaulted a table) until I realized I was dressed as the Winter Soldier and doing the Murder Walk because that’s just how I walk in those boots. I got the meds, got out, and made a mental note.
I repeated the experiment later, wearing the boots but otherwise my usual clothing and mimicking the expression I thought I’d had at that moment. People parted like I was Charlton Heston.
I now wear that style of boots whenever possible. I recently had a man do a double-take as I walked by and ask me, politely, where I had served because I “looked like a soldier.” I’m not current or former military. I was wearing a flowy purple peasant top and looked as un-soldierlike as possible.
Moral of the story: wear comfortable shoes, square your shoulders, and walk like you’ve been sent to murder Captain America.
IT’S BACK!!!!!! I was searching for this to show my daughter the other day and couldn’t find it. I’m so glad IT’S BACK!! I will always reblog the Murder Strut!!
In case you were wondering, yes you can do this in a wheelchair. Same look in your eyes and let ‘em know you will run them down. Just picture yourself in a sports car accelerating towards someone with the intention of flattening them.
If there’s anything more satisfying than watching Abled men leap out of my way when they realize I’m not moving for them, I can’t think of it atm.
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warnings: a lot of language, of course, and some very slight allusions to smut
a/n: and we're right back with a roy version! i didn't intend to write both, but the lovely @ironmanmagnetfridge sent in an ask to try a roy version of 'saved you a seat' and i couldn't refuse. i loved writing this, so thank you endlessly for the request and my ask box is currently very open for more roy or jamie requests in particular! <3
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“We saw a windmill!” Jamie announces loudly, to which the whole coach cheers, yourself included. It was nice to see him so happy as he bounded down the aisle high-fiving everyone in sight. Roy may have sounded as grumpy as ever when he’d boarded the coach moments beforehand, but when he sank into the seat next to you near the back, you could definitely see the hint of a smirk on his face that he’d never admit to.
“Good night?” you asked him teasingly, only to hear him growl as he turned to you.
“Thought I said not to fucking ask?”
“I’m not asking, I’m inferring,” you hummed, undeterred by the attitude you’d become so used to, “You don’t have to confirm or deny anything. I’m glad you had a good time.”
“You’re very fucking presumptuous, has anyone ever told you that?”
“You have. Many times,” you supply, grinning up at him and grateful for the fondness in the eye roll that you just managed to catch, “You like windmills?”
He doesn’t speak for a moment, and when he does, his voice is even lower, gruffer than before somehow.
“Fucking love ‘em.”
You nod, satisfied, and settle back into your seat to watch the boys fool about. They manage to get a song going, and you join in quietly albeit happily. When the same song dissolves into a chant that Dani seems to be leading in Spanish, you bow out and instead pull out your laptop to catch up on the vital emails you knew you’d missed during your time abroad.
“Do you ever stop fucking working?”
“Hey, you chose this seat,” you reminded him, still unsure why he’d chosen to sit next to you when there were a few empty seats he’d passed on the way. The thought made you a little too nervous to dwell on it though, “You should have known better than to sit next to the workaholic.”
“If I hadn’t sat here, I couldn’t do this,” he said simply, gently taking your laptop from your lap despite your protests and attempts to snatch it back. He held it over his head to the seat behind him and Rebecca caught on quick, taking it from him without a word. You pouted at him, then turned to glare at her through the gap between your seats.
“Rebecca! You know preventing the director of your charity foundation from working is probably a pretty shit idea?”
“I literally brought you with us for you to take a mandatory break,” she said firmly, “So fucking take it!”
She muttered something about you being a nuisance then went back into the dreamy trance she’d been in since she entered the coach, your laptop safely tucked away behind her. You sat back in your seat with an exaggerated huff.
“Being childish won’t help anything,” Roy reminded you, although he was definitely teasing you now if the light in his eyes was any indicator. You turned your glare on him, but soon relented, sinking back into your seat.
“You’re a bastard,” you say instead of replying.
“Yes, and…?”
You hesitate. He’s so annoying when he’s right. You’ve always hated him for it, particularly how effortlessly attractive he looked when he was gloating.
“And thank you. Happy now, you prick?”
“Very happy. Now we can talk on a coach journey like civilised fucking people rather than you having your fucking head buried in work every second.”
That one hit more of a nerve. Funnily enough, Roy had also found the seat next to yours on the coach from Richmond to Amsterdam, but you really had been preoccupied by your laptop then. Possibly the only time you’d spoken to him was to ask to squeeze by to get to the shitty bus bathroom. You had the decency to look embarrassed.
“I wasn’t the best seatmate last time, was I?” you said, “I am sorry about that, actually. When I’m planning these school visits, they often get a little all-consuming.”
“Don’t fucking apologise for all the fucking good work you do. Christ, that would make me a proper bastard. I saw some of the stuff you were doing on our way out and it’s important. Doesn’t mean you can’t take a fucking break, you know?”
You so want to take his obvious compliment in a cool, effortless way but you can already feel yourself getting hot.
“You were spying on my work?”
“Course I was. It’s a boring fucking bus and my seatmate wasn’t fucking talking to me,” he said, although this time he nudged you gently to let you know he wasn’t really annoyed, “I meant to say, put me down for the next school visit, will you? I know you’ve probably got enough, but…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. You’re always surprised by how often Roy wants to be involved in what you do, but you shouldn’t be. He’s such a thoroughly good man wrapped up an unsuspecting exterior. You hadn’t asked him because he’d done the last four visits, but maybe you should have.
“I would put your name down, but some prick stole my laptop,” you said, teasing him this time. You finally managed to get a smile out of him, however brief, as he shook his head at you, “I’m kidding. Thank you. I should have asked, but I didn’t want to bother you. I’ll make sure you know about them from now on.”
“Good,” he confirmed, a single nod of his head, and then a few moments later - “You don’t fucking bother me by the way.”
“Not even when I’m trying to work on my mandatory holiday?” you joke, and he just grunts, so you’re forced to continue more sincerely even though it isn’t in your nature, “I’m guessing that might be why you chose to sit with me yet again even though I proved to be shit last time. Tell me if not, or I’ll end up being flattered.”
Yes, you loved bantering back and forth with Roy, but there was some hidden truth, some vulnerability behind your words. You were desperate to know why Roy had chosen to sit with you not once but twice, when he had plenty of people on this coach that he was close to. The two of you had become firm friends, you liked to think, over the past year or so, but there was a spot next to Isaac he could have taken, or with Ted, Beard and Rebecca at the very back. Part of you needed to hear what exactly had driven him to sit next to you, so you could eliminate the tiny hope at the back of your mind that maybe he thought about you as much as you thought about him.
“I don’t fucking know,” he started, but you knew him well enough to know that was his typical response when he was trying to work out what to say, “You’re…you know. We’re…fuck.”
And he stopped there. For some reason, you were speaking before you thought about it.
“We’re fucking, did you just say? Could’ve let me know.”
You didn’t know what made you say it, but the way Roy’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, you decided it was worth whatever awkwardness it might create in him. You burst out laughing at his expression, biting your lip to try to curtail it but not succeeding. At your reaction, he seemed to calm a little, and there was even a little huff that sounded almost like a laugh from him.
“You’re fucking awful, you are. I was trying to say something fucking nice about you and you fucking ruined it.”
He was kidding, but you could tell he also wasn’t. Matching his energy, you leaned in to him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes.
“No, don’t let me ruin it! Go on, say it anyway,” you almost begged, wondering if any of this was working or if he’d get up and walk away from you to another seat any minute. You vaguely realised how vigorously your heart was beating, “Say it!”
“Fucking hell, fine! Stop looking at me like that,” he insisted lowly, and you made a point of schooling your face into a serious expression, “Sometimes, you’re…fun to fucking be around, I guess. I like being wi- around you.”
You caught his slip. He liked being with you. If you ran away with what that one might mean, you might not recover.
“High praise. I like being around you too. You know that’s a normal thing to say to your friends, right? It shouldn’t be quite that hard.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re fucking great at all this emotional stuff though aren’t you? You run a fucking charity, Y/N. Some of us have to…work at it.”
He was being serious, so you turned down the teasing. If he was willing to work on being a bit more emotional with you, you’d do anything to keep that going. He’d also just complimented you again and you hadn’t complimented him back once, which wouldn’t do at all.
“Yeah, I know. You’re actually fucking killing in that department recently, and you know it, so give yourself some credit,” you insist, watching a shadow of surprise cross his face. He nods, but you get the feeling he’s still trying to convince himself.
“Got you to fucking thank for that. You’re a good influence. On fucking all of us.”
“You keep saying all these nice things about me, Kent, and I’m going to be really fucking flattered,” you say, trying to downplay the impact you might have had on him, on the team, “You know it’s that cowboy back there doing the real heavy lifting.”
“Yeah, he’s fucking insufferable with it, isn’t he?” Roy agreed, “But me specifically then. The last year or so, I’ve been fucking better, and Ted’s been here three years.”
He wasn’t lying. He had been getting better and better with his emotions, with talking to people, with ensuring the people in his life that mattered knew just how much they mattered. This was about the third time in a month that Roy had suddenly gone a spree of complimenting you, and although it made you significantly uncomfortable, you couldn’t pretend you weren’t over the moon about it.
“You’ve made me more assertive, I think. So let’s call it even.”
“No.”
“No?” you questioned.
“No. You were fucking assertive before, you’re just trying to fucking deflect,” he said firmly, in the typical Roy Kent brand of caring in an angry tone, “I”m thanking you, so just fucking say you’re welcome and we can stop talking about this.”
You hesitated, but finally got up the courage to reach over and squeeze his hand as you replied.
“You’re welcome, then.”
You didn’t let your hand linger, no matter how much you wanted to, bringing it back into your lap and trying to ignore the sparks that slid across your fingers and flickered in the pit of your stomach. You watched Roy’s hand flex where you’d just held it, but he was staring straight ahead.
There were a few tension-filled moments of silence before he spoke up again, still staring at the seat in front of him like he was scared to look at you.
“Would you like to go to dinner when we get back?” he asked, in a voice that sounded like he had rehearsed the syllables. Your heart rate spiked, but you forced it to come back to earth again. He could just be anticipating how hungry he’ll be when you’re back, wanting some friendly company for the evening.
“Uh, sure, I love dinner,” you say, then want to smack yourself for how stupid that sounded, “What do you fancy?”
He growls, looking like he’s about to tear his hair out and you wonder what you’ve said wrong.
“You, alright? I fucking fancy you.”
You pause. Staring at him while he refuses to look at you. Your voice comes out breathy and disbelieving.
“For dinner?”
“No, I don’t want you for-” he growls and punches the seat in front of him, hard. Colin yelps but then starts a train of it, punching the seat in front of him with a laugh until it travels all the way down the bus. You would giggle if you weren’t worried about the man beside you. He takes a deep breath, then speaks:
“I’m inviting you to dinner because I like you. The dinner is the least fucking important thing in this scenario. I can’t have another fucking conversation with you where I’m fucking hinting every two seconds that I like you, and you’re sat there just looking at me like you do, fucking oblivious. It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I do. Want to. And want you.”
You stare at him in delighted shock. Yes, Rebecca had told you that the man wanted to ‘shag the bloody daylights out of you’ and that you should ‘just look at the way he looks at you, for fuck’s sake’, but you’d never believed her. And even if you could wrap your mind around Roy being attracted to you, you could never have predicted him actually wanting to take you for dinner. It made him infinitely more attractive as you stared up at him.
“I’m done now,” he said, voice a little strangled, “Your fucking turn. Please.”
“Yes,” you said, taking a leaf out of his book. You were elated when he finally looked at you, confused. He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon.
“Yes?”
“Yes to dinner. And to the rest of it,” you grin and have never appreciated one of his rare grins more when it’s fully focused on you. Still, there’s no way you can leave this as a serious moment alone, so you put on your best Roy Kent voice and narrow your eyes, “I fucking fancy you too.”
He actually laughs, a proper one, shaking his head as he chuckles. You join him in it, of course, ignoring the shocked look that Jamie was giving you from a few seats ahead at the sound of Roy’s laugh. When you’d finished laughing, not knowing what to do with yourself, you punch his arm lightly. It’s giddy and genuine.
You think he’ll punch you back, but instead he grabs your fist and maneuvres your hands until your fingers are intertwined and your hands rest on the seat between the two of you. It only makes your grin wider, and you know you’re staring at him again even though he’s back to refusing to look at you. You think it’s because he’s trying to hide his smile, but you can see it. It’s all you can see.
“Stop fucking looking at me like that,” he says gruffly and you laugh as you turn to stare out of the window instead, grinning out at the landscape whizzing by.
Hi, I saw ur special, congrats, what do you think about ♡ "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified" with Roy Kent?
a/n: hey there, thank you so much!! and thank you for this roy request - it's been a while since I wrote a story for him - but this was so much fun! hope you enjoy!! 💕
oOoOo
After a long, stressful work week, takeout and a cheesy rom-com was exactly what you needed to destress. When Roy had stopped by after finishing up at the 'dogtrack', he had no choice but to follow your plans after you begged and begged, closing the deal with the look you knew he could never say no to. So now, he had your legs thrown over his blanket clad lap and a drink in his hand as you watched the movie.
"What is it?" you asked, glancing at your best friend curiously.
Over half the movie passed by without a sarcastic comment from Roy. If he wasn't yelling at the main characters for being "fucking idiots," then something was surely wrong. But when you really took a look at Roy, you saw no sign of distress. Only a calm, almost peaceful realization settled over his features.
"I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified." he confessed, casually as if he just told you tomorrow's weather forecast.
You nearly choked at the confession, your heart pounding wildly. Maybe others would have been shocked and confused by the confession from their platonic best friend, but there was something inside you that sung at his words.
Buried in the deepest parts of your heart, your feelings for Roy had been hidden for the past year and a half. Feelings you had shoved down, thinking it was just a crazy fantasy. Something to be hidden and ignored in an effort to preserve your friendship. But, now, here was this mainly openly admitting to liking you. No, not just liking - loving you.
"Fuck." he whispered, seeing the expression on your face. "Did I just royally fuck this all up?"
The way his tone wobbled ever so slightly brought you back to the moment, scrambling to wash away any worries. "No, no, god, no." you stumbled. "T-the opposite, in fact."
Without warning, Roy pulled you into his lap, his face inches away from yours. He reached out and carefully stroked his thumb against your skin. An involuntary shudder ran through your body, and your hands clasped behind his neck just to steady yourself.
"Good, so I won't fuck it up if I do this?"
Before you could response, Roy closed the distance between you until his rough lips were against yours. The kiss was slow, but passionate. A kiss only months in the making could be. It was everything, and more, you had pictured. Pulling away, your forehead fell against his as you fought to catch your breath.
"Nope, feel free to do that as often as you'd like." you giggled, only for it to be consumed by yet another kiss.
“What’s this then?” Roy turned to you with a furrowed brow, gesturing towards the package on the coffee table.
You shrugged nonchalantly, barely taking your eyes off the telly. “Package for you,” you answered plainly.
Comical confusion remained on Roy’s face. “I didn’t order shit,” he huffed, finally picking up the brown box, staring at it like there was a bomb in it. He squinted at the label. “Fuck’s this return address?”
“Opening it will probably answer some of your questions,” you hummed, sipping the beer you’d opened just before Roy got home. “Just a thought.”
After shooting you a dirty look, Roy plopped down on the couch next to you, still gingerly holding the mystery box. “Has anyone ever told you it’s cute when you’re a smartass? Because it’s not that fucking cute.”
All you could do was smirk at the man you loved. “Just open the damn box, Roy.”
Despite the way he narrowed his eyes at you, Roy did as he was told. It was comical, the way he tore the box open, not at all careful the way you typically were. Honestly, the box would probably be more intact if the man had used his teeth to rip it open. His rampage paused when he glimpsed the object inside the box. He reached in and pulled it out, letting the destroyed cardboard fall to the floor.
“Blankie.”
Roy gazed down at the beige material, shaking his head as he turned it over and over in his hands. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. After what felt like an eternity, he finally turned to look at you, a deep frown on that handsome face.
“How the fuck-?”
“I called your mum,” you explained quickly. “She sent me every photo she could find of Blankie. I went onto this online chatroom for people who track down things like stuffed animals or childhood toys. They sent me to this eBay listing of the same blanket and…” You trailed off, trying to read that stoic expression you usually loved so much. “And if it was the wrong thing to do, please, please tell me, because it was supposed to be a nice gesture, and if it upset you at all-”
“I love it.”
You blinked at the still somber expression on his face. “You-”
He nodded, his grip on the blanket tightening. “I fucking love it," he rasped. Blanket still in hand, he leaned over to wrap his arms around you, tugging you close enough that you could feel his heartbeat against your chest. “I fucking love you.” He kissed your cheek tenderly before pulling back, allowing you to see the tears that had formed in those brown eyes. “This-” He squeezed the blanket. “-might be the most fucking amazing thing anyone has ever done for me, babe.” He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “What the fuck inspired you to do this?”
“When you told me about what happened to Blankie,” you said slowly, “you said it was the hardest thing you’d ever done.” You reached out and touched his leg gently. “Roy, you do so much for everyone. For me, for Pheebs, for your sister. Everything you do for the team. And you do it all without expecting anything in return. I just thought… you deserve this.”
The sight of Roy’s wide smile made the hours you’d spent scouring online for this exact blanket worth it. “Thank you,” he murmured, hugging the blanket close, looking like the child that had been dropped off at Sunderland all those years ago. “Thank you so fucking much, babe.”
“How they use praise while they ruin you in bed.” - (NSFW headcanon) - Ted Lasso x reader
Ted Lasso
Ted’s praise is unrelenting, but it’s soft, tender. He’s not the kind to hold back. No, when he’s with you, he lets every ounce of affection he has pour out in words. His praise is practically endless, flowing through each thrust, each breath, each time you gasp for more.
“Darlin’, you’re absolutely perfect. Do you know that? Just perfect.”
His hands move over you constantly, whether it’s a soft caress or a firmer grip on your hips as he rocks into you, deep and steady. His eyes never leave you, watching every shudder and tremor that shakes through your body. He’s in awe of you, every single second.
“You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. I knew you were gonna be amazing, but you’re just—just beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”
His words fall like velvet, warm and soothing, even as his movements become a little faster, a little harder. His voice cracks slightly with the effort, but it only adds to the intensity. He’s a tender man, but when it comes to you? He’s greedy with your pleasure. Greedy with the way you make him feel.
“God, I’m so lucky to be here with you. You make me feel like the luckiest man alive, darlin’. You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”
His words are almost a prayer, spoken as if they’re a promise. When he feels your walls tighten around him, your body trembling under him, he gives a little shudder of his own. He’s far from immune to your pleasure, and it drives him wild.
“You’re my best girl. The best girl I could’ve ever hoped for. You’re perfect. You hear me? Perfect.”
When you start to come undone, your breath stuttering and your body going limp beneath him, Ted doesn’t stop. He pushes deeper, slower, giving you every inch of him until he feels you pulse around him, your body taking everything he gives.
“Let go, baby. Let go. You’ve been so good for me, so perfect. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
And when you finally come, shattered and soft beneath him, he slows, kissing your forehead, your lips, murmuring sweet things as he rides out his own release.
“That’s it, baby. You’re perfect. Always will be.”
⸻
Roy Kent
Roy’s praise comes in grunts at first — it’s rough, guttural, like he’s not sure how to express how fucking good you make him feel. He’s not the kind to throw words around lightly, but with you? He can’t help it. Every groan that escapes his lips is as much for himself as it is for you.
“You feel so good, fuck,” he growls, hands gripping your hips hard, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust. His eyes are dark, hungry, but there’s a soft spot for you buried deep. He can’t stop himself from complimenting you, even in the heat of it all.
“Look at you. Fuck, look at you, all stretched out and perfect for me. No one else gets to see you like this. Only me.”
His words are harsh, almost like a challenge, as though he wants to claim you, mark you, and leave his imprint on you in every way possible. And you love it.
“You make me feel like I can do anything. You’re so fucking perfect, babe. So perfect for me. You know that?”
When you moan his name, your body bucking beneath his, he grows rougher, more desperate.
“Good girl, fuck. So good for me. You’re mine, yeah? Mine to fuck, to ruin. And you love it.”
His fingers dig into your skin as he increases his pace, never once slowing down. He’s relentless, but it’s always for you. The praise becomes even more feral, more real, as you beg him for more.
“Let go, love. Come on, I know you want to. You’ve been so good for me. You make me lose my fucking mind.”
When you come, your body a trembling mess beneath him, Roy’s movements slow — he drags them out, letting you feel every inch of him, every whisper of his affection.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”
⸻
Jamie Tartt
Jamie’s praise is full of confidence — and insatiable admiration. The more you react to his words, the harder he pushes. He’s a master at building you up while shattering you with his touch. And the moment you start to whimper, begging for more, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.
“You’re so fucking sexy. So fucking hot for me, babe.”
His hands roam over your body, worshipping every curve, every inch of skin. He makes sure you feel the heat of his gaze on you at all times. His thrusts are fast, urgent, as if he’s afraid to let this moment slip away from him.
“You look so good like this. Can’t believe I get to have you. You make me feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.”
Every time you moan, every time your body shudders, Jamie can’t help but speak it out. It turns him on more than anything.
“You like that? Yeah? You like when I praise you, don’t you? Makes you feel good, huh?”
When you tighten around him, when you finally give in to the overwhelming pleasure, he leans down, breathless, his voice barely a whisper.
“That’s it. Come for me. You’re doing so fucking good. So goddamn good for me.”
Jamie’s praise hits harder, hotter, as he watches you come undone beneath him. He can’t stop. You’re his, and he’s proud of it.
“Look at you. You’re mine, babe. My fucking goddess. So perfect.”
⸻
Sam Obisanya
Sam’s praise is soft at first, like he’s almost surprised by how much it affects you. But when he sees your face light up, your body trembling under him, he gives more. So much more.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he says quietly, his hands trailing over your skin, his movements careful but deep. He’s focused on you, entirely captivated by the way you react to his touch.
“You make me feel like I’m in a dream. Every second I get to be with you feels like a blessing.”
His praise is steady, unbroken, as though he’s taking his time to savor the moment — to savor you. He’s not rushing. His thrusts are deliberate, each one bringing a shudder from you that makes his heart race.
“You’re perfect, darling. I’m so lucky to be here with you. So fucking proud of you.”
When you start to unravel, when you beg him for more, Sam’s voice takes on a deeper, more sensual tone. He can feel you clench around him, and it drives him wild.
“That’s it, love. You’re doing so well for me. You’re perfect for me.”
Sam’s praise is like a blanket — warm, comforting, deeply affectionate. And when you finally break, when you collapse against him, gasping for breath, he kisses you softly, whispering, “You’re incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
⸻
Keeley Jones
Keeley’s praise is effervescent, completely unapologetic. She’s a bundle of joy, of confidence, and that radiates through her every word as she fucks you senseless. She adores the way you react to her praise, and she’ll make sure you know just how much she loves you — how much she loves everything about you.
“Oh my god, babe. You’re fucking amazing. Look at you, all messy and perfect for me.”
Her fingers dance across your skin like they’re teasing you, making sure you’re sensitive to every touch. She’s not in a rush. She’s savoring every second, and she’s going to let you know it.
“You make me feel so good. Like, I can’t even tell you how fucking lucky I am. You’re my dream, you know that?”
Keeley’s praise is loud, confident. She doesn’t hold back, not when you’re making her feel this good. When you start to tremble, when your body shakes from the intensity of it all, Keeley doesn’t stop.
“You’re so good for me. You make me feel like the best woman in the world. I can’t believe I get to have you.”
When you finally come, when you let go beneath her, Keeley’s words turn soft, filled with warmth and affection.
“That’s it, babe. You did so good. You’re perfect. Always perfect for me.”
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Imagine: Roy has managed to keep his feelings for you to himself….until one night he’s unable to hold onto them any longer.
Contains: fem/reader, cursing, Roy losing his absolute shit in the best way, sexual innuendos
Warnings: none
“I can’t believe I ever let you convince me to wear this.”
“Babes you look phenomenal,” Keeley preened.
You might not have had the option to skip the fundraiser event you were about to enter, but you did have the option to wear something more….lowkey. You did tend to keep it lowkey, as one of the clubs media specialists. Keeley handed all of the flashy bits, the paparazzi and signings and public appearances. You tended to a lot of the background stuff; the sports articles and communications within the league, and the clubs various websites and platforms. Ever since you joined the team nearly a year go now you liked to work in the background, liked being unnoticeable.
Unfortunately you’d become best friends with Keeley Jones-the most noticeable person on the planet. And when you learned you had to attend some annual fundraising gala Rebecca was putting on, Keeley made it her life mission to convince you to wear something daring. And in a moment of weakness you’d agreed.
But now that you were present at the gala and it was almost your turn to walk to press carpet, you were having some serious regrets.
“Seriously Keeley, I feel ridiculous. One of the guys is going to see me and bust out laughing. This is something Rebecca would wear and pull off, not me.” Not to mention the carpet ahead was daunting. Cameras flashing constantly, held by shouting, viperous paparazzi.
“Hey,” Keeley pulled you to the side, forcing you to look at her instead of ahead at the walk into the hall. “No matter what mean things your brain are telling you right now, you look phenomenal. And when the guys see you, when Kent sees you-they’re gonna be lost for words.”
You flushed, because of course your best friend couldn’t resist mentioning the man you had a huge thing for. She never let it go after you let it slip one night. The two of you were just friends, no matter how much Keeley insisted that Roy was in love with you. You two had hit it off shortly after you started, appreciating each other’s dry sense of humor and love of cursing. Besides Keeley he was your best friend. But that was it-no matter how much you daydreamed of more.
"You've got this babe, i promise. Don’t forget-you are a badass bitch." Keeley gave you a final smile and quick kiss on the cheek before she was being called up. She left your side and stepped out onto the carpet. The photographers went wide, bursts of light exploding. You were officially next.
You took a deep breath, in and out. You just wanted to be inside the gala with your people, having fun with the club and Rebecca and Keeley. Unfortunately, this carpet stood in between you and them.
Just when you thought you had taken enough deep breaths and were finally ready, you heard a sharp inhale behind you. You risked a glance over your shoulder, finding Roy standing a few feet behind you. And you had to admit, he looked good. The all black attire did not surprise you but it did suit him. He was taking you in, slowly, from head to toe. Your outfit was all white, comprised of crisp high waisted pants and a corseted long sleeve top. (see visual below, I love a good visual, tho feel free to alter it in your brain to best suit you)
When his eyes finally rose to your chest he swore.
"Fucking hell."
"What was that, Roy?"
His eyes rose again, this time to meet yours.
Maybe it was Keely's words ringing around your head, or the way Roy couldn't keep his eyes off you, or the shot of whiskey you'd taken on the drive in. But regardless, you suddenly felt a smudge more confident. So with a final mental fuck it, you decided to embrace it. You relaxed your shoulders, straightened your spine, and as they called your name you smiled at Roy and gave a quick wink before you spun on your heel and took your first step out onto the carpet.
The cameras lit up, photographers crying for a spin, a turn, an angle, any bit of attention. You stopped a few times, allowing them pictures of you in different poses. The lights and the noises soon became too much however, so you kept it short before you strutted down the rest of the carpet and made it inside the gala building where Keely was stood waiting.
"Oh my god, you looked like a right model walking into a show," she gushed. "Those pictures of you are going to be jaw-dropping babe. And poor Roy's dragging his jaw against the floor."
You flushed as you let the excitable girl link arms with you and drag you towards the teams designated table. "I don't know what came over me, Ke. I just decided to go with it and channel my inner Rebecca. And I fucking winked at Roy. Who am I?“
"If he doesn't pull you away to ravish you by the end of the night I will."
You giggled with your friend, happily accepting the drink she got you.
"Ladies."
To your delight Coach Lasso approached, eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You both look down-right beautiful."
"Oh thank you Ted, you're looking quite handsome this evening."
"Well that's mighty kind of you. Now between the three of us, I was really just coming to let you know that Roy just stormed into the building like a starved man on a mission, demanding to know if I'd seen which way you went. The poor man looked so red in the face I was worried he was going to keel over."
You flushed, eyes suddenly finding the floor quite interesting.
"Now you two wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"
"He's realizing that he's in love with her," Keely couldn't help but gush.
Eyes widening, you smacked her arm.
"Ow!"
"Keely! He is not!"
"Ah," Lasso hummed, chuckling a bit. "It's about damn time. The boys and I are getting tired of the silent pining."
"We are not- there is no silent pining." You argued, looking between your two friends.
“You two have been inseparable since you met. You spend more time with him then anyone else in the club, babes.”
“Kee, we’re just friends.”
"I don’t think he thinks that," Lasso gestured with his head and you followed his gaze, finding Roy stood across the room, staring straight at you.
Your heart skipped a beat as his intense eyes met yours.
"I need some water," you stated, the air suddenly too heavy to breath.
"I can-"
"It's ok, Kee," you interrupted, kissing her cheek. "I'll be back."
She nor Lasso argued, watching as you hurried away from the table and towards the bar. Roy was after you the next minute, speeding across the floor and past the table towards you.
"Those two...." Lasso trailed off as he shook his head.
"Idiots."
"Lovesick idiots."
-
You weren't really thinking straight when you rushed away from your friends. All you could think was that the weight of Roy's gaze was heavy, stifling, and you felt your chest constrict.
You stepped up to the bar and asked for an ice water, receiving it moments later. You thanked the bartender and glided over to a neglected corner of the room, where only a few stragglers buzzed around. It was quieter over here, and you could feel the ache in your chest ease slightly.
"Hey," a soft voice invaded your space.
You froze, turning.
Roy was stood there, looking down at you again with that intense dark gaze.
"Hi," you said softly, unable to stop your eyes from flickering down to his lips before quickly back up.
"You look....fucking beautiful."
A heat began in your cheeks, reaching down your neck and no doubt flushing your collar and chest as well.
"That word doesn't seem quite enough. Fucking....breathtaking." And the way he said it sounded like he was, in fact, breathless. His chest heaved, as he stood perfectly still in front of you.
The heat was beginning to prick at your stomach, and if Roy wasn't very careful it was going to continue to travel downward.
"Thank you. Everyone here looks pretty amazing."
"Sweetheart, I haven't so much as glanced at anyone else in here. How can I, when you look so...." he trailed off, lips parting silently.
"What?"
“I’ve been doing my best to keep what I was feeling on a tight leash. I never wanted to ruin…this. Our friendship. I don’t know what I’d do with it, but…”
You furrowed your eyebrows. He wasn’t making any sense. “What are you saying Roy?”
"Can I kiss you?"
Ok, the heat had officially traveled to your entire body. You felt like you were on fire, and all Roy was doing was looking at you. Never had you considered how much a simple question like that could affect you, but as you watched him wait in heavy anticipation, wanting to touch you but unwilling until you gave him permission, you became weak in the knees.
"Yes-" the word was barely out of your mouth before he was kissing you, trapping the word in between you. His hands cradled your face so delicately, like you were made of glass. You rested your hands on his chest, appreciating the muscle you felt under the suit.
His lips were so soft, and tasted faintly of the cherry chapstick you'd given him just the other day. He smelled of spicy cologne and his scruff tickled your face.
He pulled away, just enough to meet your eyes.
"I may be the most stubborn, selfish, miserable prick on this planet, but you make me feel like I'm so much more. And this may be the most selfish thing I ever do, but I don't fucking care anymore. I'm in love with you."
Your lips parted, eye searching his for any signs of deception. You couldn't find any.
"Im in love with you too, my miserable prick."
He choked on a laugh, his eyes glassy as he rested his forehead against yours. "God, I love you so fucking much."
warnings: cursing (you know what you’re getting in to here), mention of food/going out for lunch
word count: 1.9k
summary: after numerous unsuccessful attempts at getting over your crush on roy, you’re ready to give up. keeley is nothing if not a wing(wo)man.
notes: a fic that’s…not ted centered? woah. i felt a little inspo for the grumpy man that loves the muppets because i freakin love roy kent haha. apologies it’s been a minute, thank you for reading, and i truly hope you all enjoy!
“It’s so frustrating, Keeley. This is why I didn’t want to do it,” you complained.
“Come on, babes, maybe he’s just…been busy?” Keeley half-heartedly encouraged. She knew as well as you did that that was not the case, but she wanted to try to give you some hope anyways. She’s the one that got you onto the blasted app that led you here.
You thought that date had gone well. The transition from faceless conversation to a full blown date wasn’t too awkward—the conversation flowed as easily in person as it did online. He was charming, a true gentleman, you’d thought. He’d pulled your chair out at the table, told you that you looked beautiful, helped you with your jacket after dinner. He was funny, even funnier in person than through your text messages. You really thought he was a catch.
ʚଓ: 18+,use of honey, petals, needy Sokka, short/one shot/tbc, fem reader, 2nd person.
Characters-2.5k
The air is palpating with hot sugary essence, sheets drifting downwards. The day closed, moon shining under the blue curtains of the room you and Sokka are in.
Aang bought a few rooms in a hotel, wanting to pamper his friends after staying in tents for so long.
The non bender had been clingy all day, it's not unusual, but the way his hands and touch traced your body, the way his eyes immediately softened, pupils expanded in an instant,yeah, you knew he was reacting to…you, hence , your mind caught that once the two of you are alone, he'll make you his all over again.
Lavender and sweat linger, his veiny hands holding onto your tummy, your legs spread with a hint of a few rose petals scattered on them, his arm as he moves nudging them off, gaze pleadings, looking up at you deliberately slowing his licks on the honey that's stretched around your tummy.
“Where'd you even got all of this stuff from... Sokka…?” You whisper, tangling your fingers in his hair, breathing shallowly, naked, other hand playing with your breast, already turned on by the sight.
The man swallows the honey, at the corner of his mouth a trace living on. He swallow, kissing your belly button before catching your gaze.
“This hotel has a ‘all you can eat’, I took a few free samples, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“...so you stole?” You smile, looking at his eyes then the flowers that weren't for taking.
“Oh I wouldn't say it like that sugar–” he speaks up, immediately quieting down, placing his hands besides your head and kissing your lips gently. Both of your breaths intertwining, the room increasingly seizing hotness, the candles burning, tracking the movements.
Sokka's finger traces down, gaze locked into yours, sweeping up a bit of sweetness from your body and letting it sit on the top of his tongue, earning a sigh right after.
“How about I eat you instead of the honey, would you like that better?” He snickers.
The bed creaks,sheets fondly flush. He moves his body,muscles flexing, unable to keep control.
You shiver, eyes plucked to the way his member throbs inside his pants, body half naked, abs shining, tongue darting out with the honey he dragged in, settling his pace with hands on your thighs.
The tip of his tongue darting on your clit, settling the honey there.
“whoa hey,mmh..t-that's not sanitary…–” you whine out, hand clutching his hair.
“I know, I know sweetheart, just trust me,not even speck will get away.” he says with a smile, eagerly diving into your pussy, eating you out hungrily.
Heres something to entertain a bit, havent wrote in a while, Ive been very busy as always. ᵕ᷄≀ ̠ᵕ᷅
Cameron Cade x F!reader (childhood friends - lovers)
Synopsis: Your bond is tested after a culmination of events leads to hidden wants and needs being brought to the surface
Warnings/tags *MDNI*: college au, sub!Cameron Cade with switch undertones, angst (a tad dramatic), misunderstandings, hidden feelings, jealousy, violence (*not against reader*), explicit language, fluff, smut, oral (f!recieving) cowgirl, sprinkle of edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex, piv, dirty talk, creampie, aftercare, mentions alcohol & smoking
WC: 11.7k (damn near a very short story, so sorryyy fr)
A/N: feel like it’s been ages but this one will officially mark the summer shift and next post (very soon) will be from the request on my previous post but I figured I’d keep them in order !! The drama in this.. LOL hope you enjoy !!!
Title is also definitely “how does it make you feel” by Victoria Monet, heavyyy in the rotation for this one along with “speechless” by Michael Jackson, these song combos… everything, srsly!
Choosing to study in Cameron’s room this time rather than the library was proving to be impossible. With him being fortunate enough to have his own single, you two got comfortable on his bed. Crossing your legs, you sat at the head of his bed. He rested his back against the wall, facing the door. You weren’t even twenty minutes in yet before he started begging you to come to his football game. Specifically, for you to come sit in the family and friends section again. In his own words: “this one is important for real”.
“For me at least?!”
“No”.
“Please?”
“No!”
“Pl-”
Fully looking up from your notebook now, you glared at him before he could utter the word. “Cam, no. I already told you I’m not doing that shit again! The regular bleachers will do just fine”. You already planned to go, however you had been adamant on not sitting in the same section. Assuming that meant you weren’t going at all, Cameron made sure to lay it on thick. He learned early on in your friendship that there was an 85% success rate if he annoyed you enough to the point you’d give in.
He laughed, swatting your ankle. “C’Monnn, I promise this time will be different”. Pausing as the moment replayed in his head, he let out another snicker. “I swear on everything I’ll make sure you don’t get hit with the ball”.
You kicked at his shin, trying to conceal your laughter. “It’s not funny! The bruise is just now starting to fade”. The first-and last-time you sat front row in the family & friends section, the ball ended up striking you just above your hip.
Wrapping his hand around your calf, he gave it a squeeze. Sporting a soft smile while rubbing your skin, he voiced, “I’m sorry”. Shifting to a serious tone now, his grip trailed up, stopping below your knee. “Please come… I need you there tomorrow”.
Gnawing on your bottom lip, you contemplated, taking in his expression. He was talented in that way, able to make you crack with one pleading look and that soft drop in his voice. Begrudgingly, you mumbled, “fine. But I am NOT sitting in the front row, I don’t care”.
A wide grin spread across his features before he pounced, pulling you onto his lap to trap you in a bear hug. “Thank you”. Making a small noise of surprise, you immediately slid your hands up his back. Folding your knees beside his hips for comfort, you straddled him. He lingered, absentmindedly rubbing along your hips and savoring the scent of your fragrance.
With your cheek pressed against his chest, a faint smile ghosted your lips. Wincing when his thumb accidentally swiped across your bruise, you shifted in his lap. Bringing your hands to his abdomen, you gave him a gentle nudge. “Cam”.
Quickly uttering, “sorry”, he repositioned his hands on your thighs. He leaned back, peering in the direction of your bruise before lifting his gaze. “You good?” You nodded, eyes falling to his lips for a split second. Suddenly, aware of the compromising position, you began to move off his lap. Once you slipped out of his grasp, his gaze followed while you situated yourself at the head of his bed. Glancing down, he swallowed hard, using a pillow to cover himself so you wouldn’t notice the tent growing in his sweats.
You two had been dancing around the tension for years. Never placing a name on it or giving the feelings that began to simmer over time any attention. Nothing ever happened but you both shared the same thought. It wasn’t worth losing each other if things went wrong. The friendship was too important. Plus, in your mind, if there was something on his end, it was just lust. And the thought of that alone hurt more than discovering whether or not he truly felt the same so you remained comfortable in the unknown.
“You owe me by the way”.
He was waiting for that to come. Lips curling into a smile, he asked, “What do you want?”
Continuing to write, you kept your attention focused on the page in front of you, not sparing him a glance while responding. “That’s for you to figure out, I’m sure you’ll come up with something!” Pausing your movements to raise your head, you caution, “you’ll still owe me if I’m not satisfied though so choose wisely”. You finished with a curt smile before resuming your writing.
Uttering in a hushed tone, “you’re something else for real”, he shook his head in amusement.
Ears perking up a bit, you hummed, “what was that?”
Throwing his hands up in defense, he quickly voiced, “Nothing! Didn’t say anything”.
………………
Any chance he could, Cameron would glance over towards the family and friends section, anticipating your arrival. You’d leave him on his toes a lot, but this was the one thing he could never predict with you. He started to note you’d either come fairly early or exactly when the game started but you’d never be late. Not even five minutes. Despite knowing this, he couldn’t help the pit that formed in his stomach until he saw your face.
Completely unaware of how much weight he had placed on you showing up, you would simply show up whenever you happened to finish getting ready. Avoiding coming in late was the only somewhat strict guideline you held yourself to. No matter how many times you’d watch him play, it never became repetitive. If anything, each game was different. Cameron was consistently sharp as a player, seemingly excelling with every play.
Football has always been the focal point of his life. To any bystander, they would see him and think he was great. To you, all you saw was his drive to become perfect. He’s never stopped. And he’d never allow himself to. Any broken bones or concussions were just a bump in the road. Cameron remained in his place as the most persistent person you’ve ever met.
A part of you was always on edge, terrified even that something would happen to him on the field one day. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop watching. Not when he slipped into that state of raw, unbridled focus. To say he’s grown since you were kids would be an understatement.
Just as warm up was winding down, Cameron watched you saunter into the stands. Spotting someone you knew, you took a seat next to them, sparking up conversation. Recognizing the crew neck you wore was the one with #5 embroidered on the wrists, he smiled at the sight. The sheer amount of merch you had accumulated continued to grow and was getting a bit ridiculous at this point, but you weren’t complaining. The quality was unmatched. Each item he’d give you would either fall in pajama territory or your closet depending on the style.
As predicted, the game ended with Cameron as the MVP, bringing in another win for the team. Making your way out of the stadium, you and your classmate paused for a moment to catch up before you left.
“Sooo what’s up with you and Cam?! How long you been on that?”
Brows furrowing in confusion now, your mood shifted as soon as the words left her mouth. Smile dwindling a bit, you questioned, “what do you mean…?” You knew what she meant but there was a reason you never outwardly spoke about him unless prompted. Majority of people who were privy of your friendship automatically assumed it was more than that. Nor would they believe it when you two clarified you’re just friends.
“How long have y’all been fucking? Or are y’all actually together?!”
“Neither actually. We’re just friends, it’s not like that”. Maintaining your composure, you were waiting for her to voice the real reason for asking.
Her expression immediately lighting up, she asked, “would you mind hooking me up then?? He looks too good around campus, I can’t believe you haven’t fucked at all!”
Forcing out a short laugh, you nodded. “You cool with me giving him your number?” Trying to ignore the twinge of discomfort settling in your stomach, you kept a tight lipped smile.
Nodding, she hummed, “Mhm, that works!”, rolling her eyes afterwards. “My brother refuses to set me up with him, I’ve stopped asking him that shit”.
Finding yourself growing increasingly uncomfortable, you let out another laugh. “No problem. I’ll see later, I have to go!” Right on cue, your phone started ringing as you began to walk back to your car.
“Hey”
“Hey, you still here?!”
“About to leave, why?”
“Give me ten minutes! Don’t leave yet”.
“I’m giving you eight, hurry up”. Hearing his laughter ring out through the phone before you hung up, a small smile came to your face. Occasionally, he would take up the opportunity to ride back to campus with you if he chose to ride with one of his teammates to the field instead of driving.
Knowing you always parked as close as possible, Cameron made a beeline for your car. Distance closing in, he saw you clearly, distracted on your phone. Taking this as a chance to scare you, he ducked down, gradually getting closer until he ran up to your window, slapping his hands on the glass. Jumping at the sudden noise, you clutched your heart, turning to see him bubbling with laughter. You glared at him, shaking your head in amusement before cracking the window. “Yea, have fun walking back to your dorm. I’m not giving you a ride!”
He swiftly rounded the car, pulling on the handle to see you had already locked it. “Wait chill, unlock the door!” Deciding to partake in the antics, you kept your finger on the button, unlocking it for a split second before locking it again. You did it one more time, laughing as he attempted to open it again before finally letting him in. He climbed in, throwing his travel bag in the back before shifting the seat as far as it could go for leg room.
The scent of his body wash immediately striking your senses, you involuntarily clench your legs. You took in his appearance, baggy gray sweats riding low on his hips with a plain white wife beater on. Gaze trailing down his bicep towards the prominent veins displayed on his forearm, you questioned, “it’s hardly 55 degrees right now, you’re not cold?”
He shook his head, expressing, “nope”, as his eyes scanned over your outfit. Lips turning up into a smile, he reached over the console, grabbing your wrist to get a clear view. This was the first time he’d ever seen you wear any of the merch he gave you with his personal number on it. Heart speeding up, he was silent for a moment. “You wore this one for me?”
Unbeknownst to him, you always wore the engraved items of clothing in private. Briefly glancing in the direction he was looking, you peered back up, almost able to see the gears turning in his head. “No, I wore it because it’s cold out. Plus, it’s comfortable”. After he chuckled at your response, you playfully pushed at his knee, rolling your eyes. “Duh I wore it for you. Didn’t you say this one was important?”
Laughing again, he nodded. “There were several scouts watching today”. You knew there was always a range of them at every game, but he wouldn’t have mentioned it unless some were from his top choices.
Many from other teams have come to scout him except for the ones he anticipated the most up until this point. “Wait… which ones from your lineup?”
A slow grin forming, he responded, “first and second”.
Unable to contain your excitement, you urged, “get out, I need to give you a hug!”, before promptly opening your door to step out. Cameron met you halfway, immediately wrapping his arms around your lower back to pull you flush against him. Bringing your hands up to reach his broad shoulders, you embraced him. Reveling in your hold, he nuzzled into your shoulder, lowering his grip to your hips.
Noticing he was reluctant to part, you ran one of your hands down his arm, caressing his bicep while mumbling, “I’m happy for you”.
Feeling him smile against you, his voice was muffled. “Knew you would be”. After another second, he lifted his head. Peering down at the sincere expression that had settled over your features, his mind was quiet. Through all the chaos that accompanied the sport, you were at the center of it, grounding him back in reality.
It was moments like these where confusion would strike you a bit. Cameron was an open book. You were well acquainted with all his cues at this stage in your friendship, yet you could never decipher what he was thinking when his eyes glazed over like this. Giving his arms a gentle squeeze, you asked, “ready to leave now?”
Nodding in response, he chimed, “I could drive if you want”.
“Yea, absolutely not Cam. You drive crazy!”
He scoffed, “Me?! I’m probably the safest driver you know”.
Amused, you raised a brow at his quip, shaking your head in disagreement against his chest. “Not even by a long shot”. Aware of him still keeping you in his grasp, you remarked, “so… you plan to let me go or…?” After he begrudgingly parted you two shared a small laugh, getting back in the car to leave.
Once you returned back to campus, a thought sprung to your mind. Shutting the car off, you casually mentioned, “oh by the way I have a number for you”.
“The girl you were sitting with…?” You nod, unlocking your phone to find it. Before you could even start the search, he quickly voiced, “I don’t want it”. At the sound of this you peered over to see his face fell flat.
Confused and slightly intrigued, you confirmed, “you sure?”
“Positive”. Jaw clenching now, he added, “I’m not getting involved with Brian’s sister. I don’t want her”. He studied your features in acknowledgement, biting his tongue.
Assuming it was nothing more than a boundary thing with his teammate, you shrugged, leaving it off with an “ok”.
Both proceeding to walk in the direction of the dorms now, Cameron asked, “can I come up tonight?”
You nodded, sending a quick message to your roommate. While Cameron was lucky enough to be alone, you were lucky enough to share an apartment with your best friend. It had just become a courtesy at this point to give a heads up even though she’d never care, occupied in her own bedroom or the living room.
Upon entering the space, Cameron made himself comfortable on the bed while you searched your dresser for pajamas. “What about the movies?” Humming in confusion, you turned to face him. “Going to the theatre, is that acceptable for you? I know you’ve been wanting to see the movie that just came out”.
Ears perking up in interest, you questioned, “when?”
“This Friday work? We can go after my practice, get food afterwards?”
A genuine smile finding its way to your face, you shook your head in approval, “Yea, I’m satisfied with that”, before venturing off towards the bathroom to change. When you left his view, Cameron’s grin widened. Nothing granted him more pleasure than making you happy.
After a few moments, you returned, wearing a loose fitting top with sweatpants, ready for sleep. Dimming the lights now, you cozy up under the covers next to him. Both mindlessly discussing how your day went while scrolling on your phones, you began drifting off. Cameron followed suit, having it in mind that he was going to rest his eyes for a bit before heading out. You two ended up falling into a deep slumber, periodically shifting your bodies throughout the night to get comfortable.
At some point, he turned to his side, slinging his arm around your mid-section. Loosely grasping his forearm, you gravitated towards his body, shuffling back against him. You stayed in that position for a few hours, unconsciously moving your body again to flip around, nuzzling into his side. He kept his arm wrapped around you, pulling you as close as possible.
Once morning came, Cameron woke up first. His eyes gradually opened, adjusting to the light peeking through your curtains until they dropped to your figure. Curled next to him, you had your face pressed onto his chest, arm resting along his abdomen. Staying quiet and still, he admired the view, feeling his heart swell. Sure, there had been other instances in the past where you two happened to fall asleep in the same bed but none like this. He’d stay like this all day, just watching the soft rise and fall of your body for comfort.
Your alarm beginning to ring out now, his thoughts were cut short. Eyes still shut, you groggily shifted, reaching to turn the sound off before bringing your arm back to its position. Slowly becoming aware, your brows furrowed in confusion. You repeatedly pat his stomach, feeling the hard planes of his abdomen underneath your fingertips. Quickly coming to the realization after a few seconds, you blinked, pushing yourself up into a seated position.
Giving him a playful shove, you turned your attention to him. Mumbling out, “How come you didn’t say anything? I didn’t know I was all over you like that”, you saw a small grin on his face.
Bypassing the twinge of emptiness, he felt when you pulled away, he casually shrugged, “I didn’t mind”. He watched as you checked the time on your phone, setting it back down with a tired groan. “What time is your class?”
“12:30 today. You?”
“Eleven”.
“Cam that’s in an hour…”
“So?”
Voicing, “What do you mean so?!”, you shoved him again, laughing at his sense of urgency. “You need to leave right now to get ready. I refuse to be the reason you’re late!”
“Damn you’re kicking me out already?! Bedside service sucks here”.
More laughter bubbling out, you urged, “yes, it does, now get up! There’s extra toothbrushes in the bathroom”. He chuckled, finally moving to head to the bathroom. Before he left, you told him to just text you the details for the movie later.
………………
Friday
Cameron now found himself in a predicament. His teammates had drilled into his head the best way to celebrate several of their top picks showing up was an impromptu party. Tonight. He didn’t want to reschedule, nor did he want to cancel on you but in that moment at practice he thought: what better way to celebrate that…?
“Ik this is last minute, but you mind if we go on Sunday? I’m exhausted rn, I’m just going to sleep in tn.”
“No, that’s fine. I understand”.
“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you I swearr”.
“Cam it’s fine, get ur rest. I’ll talk to you tmr”.
“You’re not mad, are you??”
“No, just take care of yourself pls. Hope you get some good sleep!”.
The guilt was quick to set in and stayed throughout the evening. As soon as he sent the first message, he felt the pit simmering in his stomach, increasing by the hour. After practice was over, he sat on his bed, contemplating whether it was the right move to actually go to the party. Damage had already been done the moment he rescheduled so in his mind, things couldn’t possibly get worse if he showed his face for an hour or two. He never lied to you, let alone left you as an afterthought so what was different now? Why did it feel so heavy?
On the opposing end, you felt a pang of disappointment when the notification popped up but brushed it off. Tried too at least. Placing your focus back on the show you were watching with your roommate, your mind drifted. It felt like there was something else he was omitting but he would’ve told you. Gnawing on your lip as anxiety began to creep in, you were quiet, thinking about what else it could be. He’ll probably tell me later.
Poorly hiding your concern, your best friend peered over, taking in the worry painted on your features. Momentarily dragged out of your thoughts, you felt a nudge on your shoulder. You Glanced over at her, releasing a small hum. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing”.
“Girl…”
“Nothing, seriously. I just… I don’t know”. You passed her your phone, showing the messages. “Am I tripping for feeling like something’s a little bit off?! Be honest”. She took a moment to read the thread, and you watched as her neutral expression morphed into one of discontent.
Shaking her head, she handed it back to you. “He’s hiding something, guarantee it”. Your face fell at her words. Despite seeing that coming, a part of you was hoping she’d lie. At least then you could really convince yourself not to overthink. Attempting to cushion her words, she encouraged, “fuck him though, don’t even give it a second thought! Come out with me tonight!” Seeing your apprehension, she grasped your hand, continuing, “pleaseee, I’ll make sure you have fun! It’ll take your mind off it!”
A smile ghosting your lips at her insistence, you caved. “Ok, fine! Where are we going?”
Gleefully squeezing your hand now, she grinned.
“Some party happening near the hub I think?? I don’t know who’s hosting but my friend said it should be a good turnout. We’ll see for ourselves though!” Checking the time on her phone, she mumbled, “oh shit…”, before launching off the couch. “Start getting ready now, we’re going to pregame!” Turning on her heels to head toward her room, she yelled out, “wear something slutty!”
Loudly laughing at her excitement, you sprung off the couch, shouting back “I will”, through your laughter.
………….
You were three shots in by the time you two arrived at the party and sure enough, the place was packed. Though you were a bit tipsy, you could’ve sworn that you’d been here before. The house looked way too familiar but not enough for you to spare more than a second thought. Immediately upon walking in, the aroma of smoke filled your nostrils accompanying the heavy bass leaking from the speakers as the music blasted.
With your arms linked, you two shuffled deeper into the house, stopping for a moment to converse with a few mutual friends. After a couple more interactions, both of you managed to navigate through the sea of people, finding the kitchen. Giggling at your best friends reaction once she spotted her drink of choice, you lost your footing for a second. Bumping into somebody hard, you turned your head a bit, muttering out, “oops, sorry about that!”
After hearing your name called, you fully swiveled, searching around to figure out who said it before looking up directly in front of you. “Brian, hey! What are you doing here?!” Pulling him in for a brief hug, he chuckled. “I’m hosting! Glad you could come”.
“Oh! I didn’t know you were having a party tonight”. It took a second for you to make the connection, but it slowly dawned on you as he continued.
“What do you mean? Cam didn’t tell you?? He said you couldn’t come!”
Keeping a smile plastered on your face, you dismissed the anger bubbling inside upon realizing he lied, twice. Shaking your head, you voiced “nope! He’s here?”
“Yea, he’s on the couch!” Eyeing you up and down, he added, “you look good by the way” ignoring him uttering “really good” under his breath, you simply nodded.
“Thanks”. Looking around to see where your friend was, you stopped in your tracks after his voice rung out again.
“You know Cam said you were off limits, but you mind if I get your number really quick…?”
“Sorry, he said what?!”
“He told us you were off limits but shit, he’ll just have to understand”.
Sobering up by the second you confirmed, “He told all of you I’m off limits?!” Once he nodded, he asked for your number again and you decided in that moment, why not? Promptly making your way out of the kitchen now, you went off to figure out where your friend might have wandered. Your mind was racing now, trying to decipher what could’ve possibly motivated Cameron to act like this.
Crossing another pathway throughout the house, your heart sunk as you caught a clear glimpse of the couch. Even at a distance you could make out Cameron’s figure. The couch had several other people occupying it and one of those happened to be Brian’s sister. Music deafening out and the people surrounding the area suddenly going out of focus, you stood there, blinking at the scene unfolding. With both her arms curled around his, she shuffled her body close, leaning against his side to murmur something in his ear. He looked disinterested, not particularly focused on her or anything going on around him and you could tell by her mannerisms that she was drunk, yet you had no time to form a thought.
“There you are, I lost you girl! Having fun yet?!”
The sound of her voice was barely enough to pull you out of the trance you were in. For a split moment, he locked eyes with you during a scan of the room. Unsure if he was seeing correctly, he squinted, eyes widening once he realized. Heart lurching, the familiar lump began forming in your throat. Quickly looking away, your vision started to blur, tears threatening to spill. Frantically looking around to find the closest exit, you urgently muttered, “I need air, I need to leave”.
Before you broke your gaze, she followed your line of sight, smile dropping and mouth parting once she saw. Immediately understanding, she linked your arms again, keeping a solid grip while she wordlessly started leading you through the crowd, out the back door. You couldn’t wipe the droplets beginning to roll down your cheeks fast enough.
………………
Unable to shake the gnawing feeling of guilt, he regretted coming to the party as soon as he crossed the threshold. He was about to walk back but was stopped by one of his homeboy’s sparking a conversation. The atmosphere was no help, only proving to be more irritating than anything. Passed up going to the movies for this shit…
Deciding to take refuge on the couch, he was quiet, only contributing to the conversations here and there. But to really top things off, it was impossible for him to stop thinking about you. About how much he’d rather be celebrating with you, alone. Consistently checking his phone to see if you might’ve messaged him again, his knee started bouncing with nerves. Wonder what she’s doing right now…
He wasn’t allowed more than fifteen minutes of peace before Brian’s sister attempted to saunter over sensually, plopping down into the little space available next to him. Any thin thread of patience he had left the moment she touched him. Brows furrowing in disgust, he was about to brush her off, standing fully to leave the party but then his eyes found you. Dawning on him how bad this shit looked, he swiftly stood up, abruptly pushing her off to barrel through the crowd.
Disappearing as quickly as he saw you, he no longer saw which direction you went. Fuck, please pick up... Heart racing now, Cameron rushed through, getting outside to call you. No answer. Call again, no answer. Sprinting to his car, he sped back to campus.
“I’m sorry”.
“Where are you??!”
“I’m coming to find you”.
“Please talk to me, let me explain”.
After several calls and messages, you put your phone on dnd, disregarding them. Fortunate enough to catch a ride back with your roommate and her current fling, she asked if you were good to walk to the apartment alone. Ensuring you were, she stayed behind while you stepped out, making your way toward that path. Frankly being completely alone right now sounded nice. You needed to clear your thoughts.
Despite being upset that he lied, the one thing that stood out to you was the “off limits” statement. There was no questioning whether or not that was true because after a bit of reflection, you realized just how obvious it was. You weren’t around all of his teammates much but the few that would circulate around him always averted their gaze, keeping interactions short and to the point. In this moment you wanted nothing to do with Cameron. At All. But the only thing you wanted right now was an explanation. Some semblance of truth that might explain his behavior.
Settling into the comfort of your room now, you sighed. Taking a seat on your bed, you finally let the tears flow freely, actively trying to wipe them as they came. It was ridiculous to even cry about something so trivial, but you couldn’t shake the image of him with Brian’s sister. The steeping knot that set in your stomach seeing him comfortable with another woman. Maybe he lied about that too…
Hearing a faint knock on the door, you grabbed a tissue, patting your eyes before stepping out of your room. Assuming it was your roommate coming up to grab something, you swung open the door, only to be met with Cameron. His heart twisted when you came into view. Spotting your tear stained cheeks, he fought the urge to reach out and swipe them away. Face growing rigid at the sight of him, you quickly motioned to shut the door. He placed his hand on it, halting the movement.
“Please, I’m not here to upset you. I just want to apologize”. Taking a few steps back from the door, you moved into the kitchen, leaning against the counter for balance. Stepping into the apartment now, he rounded the other side, leaving a gap between you two. He knew better than to crowd your space when you were angry with him, having learned that lesson the last time.
“I’m giving you five minutes. Hurry up”.
“My intention wasn’t to hurt you I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking when I accepted that invite, I’m sorry. I fucked up, I know that, but I promise—-”
Your frustration was rising with each word. Sharply cutting him off, you interjected, “what was it then hm? To lie for the sake of lying?!”
“No, that was a mistake. I should’ve told you the truth”.
“But you didn’t… for whatever fucking reason. I could promise you I wouldn’t have cared if you said off rip you didn’t want to go tonight anymore. Matter fact, let’s see…” You held out your hand, using your fingers to begin counting how many times he lied. “Instead of flat out telling me you’d rather go to an impromptu party, you told me you were going to sleep in. Hell, who knows if you were actually exhausted so lie number two?? Told your friend I couldn’t come, lie number three-”
His solemn expression morphed into confusion as you continued. Heart rate speeding up, he grew deeply concerned about what else Brian possibly told you. “But my favorite one— “, you paused to laugh, using air quotes now. “‘I’m not getting involved with Brian’s sister. I don’t want her’”. Brows furrowing now after listing them, you gazed at him, utterly puzzled.
He shook his head, rounding the counter to level with you. “That last statement was not a lie, I don’t. I know how it looked but I promise you she was drunk, I pushed her off me. You know I don’t want her”. You glanced down, fighting back the urge to cry as he continued. Cautiously stepping closer, he earnestly pleaded, “please believe that. The other two were lies and I apologize for even putting you in this position but please—”. He reached for your hand, soothing the back of it with his thumb.
For a brief moment you softened into his touch, resolve slipping until the words “off limit” rung in your mind. Anger spiking, you shoved him away, pushing him at his chest. “Don’t touch me!” Tears fell as your mind raced. Stepping out of his proximity, you headed into the living room, creating as much distance as possible.
He turned, watching you pace. Taken back by your demeanor, he was trying to understand what you were thinking. Anything to rationalize why you were so upset. Facing him now, you stopped, mumbling in a hushed tone, “why would you—”, pausing to clutch your stomach. “Why did you tell your teammates I’m off limits…?”
Mind going blank, Cameron felt his heart drop to his stomach. “It’s not like that— it’s not what you think, I swear”. He met you in the living room, pain flashing in his eyes when you took a step back. “I don’t want them to hurt you, that’s all—”.
“But it’s ok when you do it…?” Words sending a direct pang of guilt up his spine, Cameron shook his head. “Is that why you lied…?” He was frozen. Throat burning now, a hard lump formed.
You urged yourself to continue, trying to dismiss how excruciating the knot had grown with every thought. Voice cracking, you managed to stutter out, “how— how long have you been waiting for an opportunity…? Is that how you see me…? This…?”, motioning between the two of you. “A quick fuck??”
The silence was loud. Cameron couldn’t conjure up any thought. Struggling to breathe now, he felt like someone had punched him in his chest, winding him of air. Scrambling to stop that notion from going any farther in your brain, he frantically emphasized, “no… no, no, listen that’s not what this is to me, I’m not— “. He couldn’t help himself from coming closer, reaching out to soothe you.
It was too late. That idea had already been fully adopted, seeping into your conscious and jumbling with your own feelings for him. You were becoming increasingly distressed, throat constricting before another wave of fresh tears streamed down your face. Shaking your head in disbelief, you took another small step backwards, muttering, “stop”.
Obliging for fear of upsetting you further, Cameron stopped, dropping his extended arm. “You know how much you mean to me…? Our connection…? How could you think— when have I given you the impression that’s how I view our friendship?! I would never see you like that…”. Hearing his voice break, you were almost on the verge of pulling him in for a hug. It was clear you wouldn’t be able to rationalize your thoughts and feelings with him around you. “I don’t see you like that”.
“Please leave…”
Standing there in shock, Cameron couldn’t remember the last time he felt this gut wrenched. Reluctantly walking a few steps back, he clenched his jaw, turning to leave out. The closer he came to his dorm, the worse he felt. Once he reached his room, an uncomfortable, stinging ache took root in his chest. Vision blurring, he ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes to prevent any tears from coming. He didn’t care how damaged things felt right now, determined to repair it no matter what.
Eventually you calmed down enough to think without tears welling in your eyes. You laid in bed, chronologically replaying the day in your head. Confused even more now, his demeanor throughout the conversation continued flashing. And while you were Initially unsure about whether he was being honest, you weighed that single factor. The one thing he could never mask was his hurt. Not with you. He never tried to.
The following morning, Cameron had to force himself not to call or text you, wanting to respect your space. Deciding to continue with his routine, he buried the growing concern steeping into his mind as each day passed without a word from you. There was only one other time in your friendship where you weren’t speaking to each other. That instance was in middle school and ended up lasting for one week.
This, however, was becoming uncharted territory, having reached the seven day mark. Now, beginning to stay up longer than normal, Cameron’s sleep gradually deteriorating. It took everything in him just to wait for a call. A text. Anything from you indicating you were ready to talk but it never came. The anxiety from simply missing your presence peaked on day twelve at his next home game.
Since that night, you went into overdrive, making yourself busy to avoid that feeling. The lingering craving of wanting him around, needing him next to you, combined with the disappointment you felt. Knowing exactly what you felt when looking at him went far beyond the platonic realm, you refused to indulge. Not if there was any shred of him that only viewed you in a sexual manner, completely disregarding the essence of your connection. Unable to bring yourself to go to his game, you stayed in, choosing those hours to study. To make matters worse, you received a message from an unknown number, grimacing when you realized who it was. You rolled your eyes at the tacky line, fully regretting giving him your information in the heat of the moment. At least that decision to block him came quickly with zero contemplation.
First down came and went and you still weren’t here. Cameron had come to terms with the fact that you weren’t coming. But he didn’t anticipate that throwing him off to the degree it did. One mistake was rare and barely tolerable depending on the severity. Three was a major fuck up in his eyes. He couldn’t reconcile with misalignment in his life. Not with you, not with football, and certainly not at the same time. They still won the game but that didn’t matter to him. Knowing that wasn’t his best was enough to send him down a spiral.
His homeboys noticed his mood shift and suggested going to another party as a remedy. Cameron knew that wouldn’t do anything to take his mind off of the game… nor make the ache that had twisted into a wrench in his chest disappear. But at least it’d keep him busy. Being around other people and thinking about you felt more productive than doing that while he was alone. It was unavoidable though.
Smoking outside with two of his teammates, Cameron only started listening when one of them mentioned Brian.
“He will not shut the fuck up about her”
“At all. It’s starting to piss me off, for real!”
Chiming in, Cameron asked, “who?”
“Some girl he met at his party a couple weeks ago. He trying to be mysterious and shit, talking about she’s cool with his sister”.
Settled into a low buzz now, Cameron completely tuned out everything else they started saying. Falling quiet again, he felt a twinge of jealousy spark, quickly rolling into a steady buildup of anger. It was easy putting two and two together that you were the girl they spoke of. Going back into the party to confront him, he kept it in the back of his mind not to take it past a simple conversation. Despite this, his temper increased the longer it took to find him. Hardly gentle as he glided past people, he stopped upon hearing a random voice yell his name. “Yoooo Cam! Man, what’s up with you?!”
Growing tense, he clenched his jaw, hardening his facial expression as the person approached, walking up to his side. “Haven’t seen you fumble that bad in second quarter before-”. Cameron heard the ringing in his ears become increasingly loud, blocking out the music and conversations around him. He began to move again, ignoring the voice before he reached his tipping point. “Is it the bitch you hang with all the time? What’s her name? She stop giving you pussy or somethi—“, and that final statement was enough to drive him there.
Swinging around to piece him in his jaw, Cameron delivered two more strikes, knocking him off balance. The guy stumbled, landing on the floor before another hit connected. Still moving in to punch him again, Camerons teammates stopped him. Forced to back off now, he jolted out of their grasp, moving to leave the party. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the inevitable consequences of his actions nor about the people standing around murmuring in a hushed tone at the commotion. Not with you flooding his mind.
Traveling back to campus as quickly as possible, he went directly to your apartment. He was contemplating for a minute, standing at the door wondering if he should just leave instead. But before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked. Ears perking up from the couch, you glanced over in the direction. Heading over to open it now, your breath hitched as Cameron came into view. You took in his appearance, worry falling onto your features at the sight of his red eyes sending a quiet plea. “Can we talk? Please…?”
Silently, you nodded, giving him space to come in. He shut the door, beginning to follow as you led him to your room. Sitting on the bed now, you crossed your legs, waiting for him to sit down too. Cameron tentatively walked over, placing himself right in front of you. Quietly asking, “what happened…?”, you were concerned looking at him.
From the side view of his face, you couldn’t fully decipher what was going on, he just seemed off. Gaze scaling down his arm, you reached out, grasping his forearm to look at his knuckle. Heart clenching, you dragged his hand into your lap, gently running your thumb along the light bruise forming. “You got into a fight?”
Cameron finally turned to look at you, his voice catching in his throat when he did. He was fixated on your soft expression and the warmth from your touch before he urged himself to speak. “A small one but that’s not why I came here”. You peered at him intently, almost forgetting why you were initially upset in the first place. Bringing your other hand over to faintly trace the skin on his wrist out of reflex, you signaled you were listening.
“I came to apologize again and tell you the truth…” He gripped your hand, squeezing before voicing, “no matter what though… promise me we’ll still be ok”. His face growing serious now, you became nervous to hear what he had to say.
Mumbling, “I promise”, your heart beat sped up.
“I went about things the wrong way. I’m sorry for how that night went… for making you cry”. A pang of guilt hit his stomach when the image flashed in his head. Tilting your head, you analyzed his expression. You quietly reached the understanding that all of his apologies were genuine, the pain in his eyes unmistakably reflected with his words.
Offering him a small smile, “I forgive you”, dropped from your lips.
“You haven’t heard the truth yet though”
Laughing at his response, you doubled down. “And? I still accept your apology. But continue, I might revoke that depending on how bad it is”. You saw him crack his first smile, visibly relaxing once you lightened the mood. He then gazed in your lap, memorizing how the pads of your fingertips felt along his skin in case things went south again. Feeling an onset of anxiety creep in, he tensed up.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
You were weary now. Cameron was hardly ever this serious. This was your first time seeing him so nervous to tell you something.
Bringing his gaze back to your face, he started, “I meant everything I said when we spoke. The only reason I told them you’re off limits is because I don’t think they’d give you the love you deserve. I don’t ever want you thinking I’m just waiting for an opportunity. That’s not how I feel about you… or what I’m thinking when I look at you”.
Upon seeing his eyes gloss over, you gave him a reassuring squeeze. “What are you thinking about right now…?”
“How much I missed you… how receptive you’d be if I tell you how I really feel”
“Don’t make me guess…” you were curious, rubbing his arm as you urged, “tell me”.
“I need you… Whether I’m with you or simply hearing your voice, that’s all I need”. Cameron felt his heart sink. Maybe it wasn’t too late to say he was joking but he had already gotten this far. “I’m in love with you”.
Looking at him in a state of shock, your smile faded. “Cam…” He grasped your other hand before you could pull away.
Panicked at your reaction, he declared “nothing has to change, we can forget about this conversation, I promise”. Fixing your gaze on his arms, you were quiet. “I just wanted you to know how I really feel about you…” A surge of emotions coming on now, you felt your heart skip a beat. Certain that he made things worse, Cameron started pleading. “Fuck, I’m sorry”. Feeling his throat tighten, he quietly begged, “please, don’t shut me out again, I’m sorry”.
Disconnecting from him, you moved off the bed. Cameron prepared to leave until you walked in between his legs, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Easing into your body, he circled your waist, pulling you close. Still too far apart for his liking, he brought his hands down to your thighs, hauling you up onto his lap. Both lingering in the soothing embrace, you ran your nails along his upper back. Voice muffled, you filled the silence. “What if I feel the same way?” He smiled into your skin, dragging a hand up your spine in response.
Lifting his head to peer at you, he questioned “do you?”
“What do you think…?” You cupped his jaw, turning his head to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I need you just as bad”. Heat creeped up Cameron’s neck from the gesture. He returned it, moving his hands down to squeeze your hips. Stopping yourself from grinding against him, you changed the subject. “Are you staying tonight?”
“You should know better than to ask that. I’m not going anywhere”. Starting to pepper your neck with pecks, he couldn’t hold back his smile. “You don’t know you’re stuck with me now? I got to show you?”
His pecks growing ticklish, a small laugh escaped you. “Nooo, I already was! Is it too late to take it back?!” He paused, staring at you with a blank expression before his smile widened. Clutching your waist for a single moment, he started tickling one side, drawing out more laughter. You squirmed in his lap, but he reinforced his hold, keeping one arm wrapped around your lower back.
He ignored your attempt at pushing his hand away, continuing his movements. A chuckle falling past his lips, he teased, “say that again?!” You started shifting uncontrollably, gripping his arm.
Bubbling out, “s-stop!”, your head fell to his shoulder. Before you could catch your breath, he swiftly switched sides, clutching you closer as his opposite hand began moving.
“Nah say that shit again, I didn’t hear you!” Squeezing your eyes shut as his chuckling rang out, you started patting his arm.
Stuttering out, “p-please”, you involuntarily cinched your knees beside him. Shortly after that, he stopped, reveling as you tried catching your breath. You playfully pushed at his chest, warning, “wait until later. Trust, I’m not forgetting this!”
Nipping at your neck, he goaded, “counting on that”. Emitting a faint moan, your hands dropped to his abdomen. Cameron clenched his jaw, rubbing the flesh on your thighs. He had to wait. Needed to wait until you initiated. Then he’d allow himself to indulge but until then he was grateful taking any instance of closeness from you.
“Go take a shower first, I’m not letting you sleep in my bed with outside clothes”.
“Yes ma’am”.
You had already been ready for bed by the time Cameron showed up at the door. A loose fitting shirt emulating his jersey with a pair of black shorts and fuzzy socks. Finding amusement in the fact he hadn’t made a single comment on it yet, you patiently waited, knowing it was coming at some point. While he was in the shower, you went ahead and grabbed an ice pack and a pair of his sweats from the stash of clothes he kept here.
Hearing footsteps now, you peered in that direction, subtly clenching your thighs when he appeared. With just a towel hanging low on his hips, your eyes focused on his happy trail then down to the imprint curved into the material. Silently exchanging a look, you handed him the pants, turning your body to the side while he got dressed. After a substantial amount of time, you asked, “are you done?” Instead of giving a response, Cameron launched on you, hovering above your back. “This is your second strike by the way”. Shifting under his full weight, you felt the fabric rub along your skin, brushing against his dick in the process. You twisted your hands in the sheets, a swirl of arousal pooling in your stomach. “Move”, slipped out breathier than you’d like.
Staying impossibly still, he leaned in towards your ear. “Say please”.
Biting back a moan, you stated, “No”. Your breath caught in your throat when his length twitched against your ass.
He might’ve just been high on emotions, but Cameron could’ve sworn you moulded perfectly against him. “I’m not moving then”.
Savoring how heavy he felt pressed into your body, you tried crossing your legs to alleviate the pressure building between them. You knew the desire would be bad when it came down to it, but you couldn’t have prepared for this at all. Already feeling your head spin, you plead, “Cam…”
Cameron finally took heed when he saw how flustered you were becoming. Gliding off to sit next to you now, he watched as you sat up, reaching for the ice pack on your nightstand. You wordlessly straddle his lap, pulling his arm in between the space to study his knuckle. “What happened…?” Gazing up after placing the ice over the swelling, you included, “and don’t be vague either”. For as long as you’ve known him, he had always been mild-mannered, not easy to enrage. And if he ever did have those moments, they had been few and far between on the field.
Resting his other hand on your thigh, he began kneading the skin for comfort. “random person ended up approaching me at a party talking about my performance in the game then mentioned you, that’s it”
You were curious but you wouldn’t even bother asking Cameron what the guy said. He wouldn’t budge if it was something disrespectful. Seeing his mood shift, he averted his gaze and went quiet. To prevent him from falling into the same pattern of overthinking, you attempted to nudge him. Softening your voice to ask, “is it the game…?”, you started wondering if you could’ve been the cause. “Or me…?”
At the sound of your tone, Cameron raised his head, spotting a glint of worry behind your eyes. Shaking his head, he encompassed your waist. “It’s not you I just— I should’ve done better… the amount of mistakes I made…”. His mind veered off, replaying each one in full detail.
Drifting your hand to his abdomen, you soothingly rubbed along the planes on his stomach. “How many?”
“Three…” he looked down at his hand, avoiding your gaze again.
You shook your head at his answer. “You push yourself way too hard”. Cupping his jaw to tip his face up, you rubbed circles into his skin, continuing to speak. “Making a few mistakes in one game doesn’t reflect on your value as a player. I’d be a tad concerned if you never made any mistakes at all”.
Staring at you with a smitten gaze, he cracked a smile. “How do you do that hm?”
Spotting the playful glimmer in his eyes, you raised a brow. “Do what?”
“Always saying the right stuff. No matter the situation, you always do that… how?”
You shrug, “I have my moments, I don’t know”, ending your response with a smile.
Cameron laughed, shifting the ice pack off his hand to wrap both his arms around you. Pulling you in for a hug, he muttered into your neck, “thank you”.
Flush against him now, your arms circled his neck. “You’re welcome”.
His hands trailed up your spine, running along the fabric of your shirt. This one had his number engraved on both sides. “I like the pajamas by the way, you look good”. He couldn’t see the vindicated smile that had formed on your face, but he felt the vibration from your laugh.
“Thank you, I like them too”.
Cameron realized out of all the evenings he spent with you, not once has he seen you wear it for sleep. “Had no idea you wore the merch to bed. I bet you do this shit a lot don’t you?”
“Don’t get cocky!” You both laughed after you spoke. After a small pause, you reluctantly admitted, “but yes... maybe”. Knowing there was a minuscule chance you’d regret telling him the reason, you did so anyway. “Makes me feel close to you… and it really is just comfortable honestly”.
Warmth filling his chest now, Cameron leaned back to get a look at you with a heavy glaze of affection in his eyes. Wetting his lips, he asked, “you missed me…?”
Holding back tears at the expression he wore, you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. Adjusting your place in his lap to get even closer, you whispered, “Talking to you, watching you play, all of it…”. Cameron pressed a kiss to your cheek, moving his hands down to massage your thighs. You did the same, peppering kisses across his jaw before placing a light one on his mouth. As soon as you pulled back, he followed, reconnecting your lips.
Feeling his hands drift up to your ass, you moaned when his length grazed the fabric of your shorts. Pulsing around nothing, a dull ache set in your core. You deepened the kiss, bringing one hand over to rest in his cheek. Cameron groaned, twitching underneath you as a sharp pang of thirst hit his stomach. Spurred on now, you rolled your hips, grounding against his dick at a gradual pace. Parting for air, you continued your movements, watching his reaction with every motion.
The sight was enough to send your mind reeling. Eyes hanging low and mouth parted, Cameron guided you back and forth. Slipping your hand down to his neck, you tip his jaw up slightly, tracing your thumb across the skin. The two of you exchanging soft breaths while staring, a whimper spilled out of you when one particular circle caused him to nudge your clit. Despite the boundaries of the fabric being thin, it was still too much.
Momentarily disconnecting from him to pull your shirt off, Cameron’s breath hitched. Eyes dropping to your breast, he squeezed your hips, mumbling in a hushed tone, “so beautiful”. You circled his shoulders again, leaning in flush against him now. He lapped at the sensitive spot below your ear, sucking and nipping to form a love bite. Mouth falling open to let a moan out, your movement faltered. Your nails raked along his skin as he traveled up to your jaw, inching towards your lips.
Cameron trailed his hands back down to your ass, finding a steady flow grinding you back and forth. The friction paired with the glide of his tongue began to cause your arousal to seep through the material. Dropping one of your arms to grasp his bicep, you clung to him as the pressure grew. He briefly parted to teasingly bite your bottom lip before reattaching. Starting to knead your flesh again, he brought out another moan from you.
Knowing he was close to the edge, Cameron halted your movements, attempting to prolong it until he no longer could. Breathing heavy, he checked, “you want to continue...?”
You nodded, responding “yes”, before involuntarily cinching your legs beside him.
“Can I taste you then…?” He already looked halfway intoxicated taking in your features. Rubbing smooth circles into the skin on your waist, his voice came out in a quiet tone. “Want to make you feel good…”.
You thumb at his bottom lip, the image of his face stuffed between your legs sending a tingle through your stomach. Nodding again, you moved out of his lap to lay down. He settled on top of you in between your legs, planting lingering kisses on your neck. Grasping his arms, your mouth parted when he sucked on your breast. Cameron flicked his tongue over your nipple, gently swirling the bud in between his teeth before drawing his attention to next, giving it the same love. Treading lower now, he showered your stomach with pecks until reaching the waistband of your shorts. His eyes were glued as he slowly dragged them off your legs.
Wetting his lips at the sight, he parted your thighs. Lying on the bed now, he drew his gaze up your body, leaving open mouthed kisses on each leg. Rubbing his forearms circled around your flesh, you met his eyes with a soft smile. Any sort of constraint he had flew out the window when he tasted you. Licking a long stripe from your entrance to clit, he rolls his tongue around it. You drop one hand in the sheets, bracing yourself after seeing the switch behind his pupils.
Dipping back down to stuff you, Cameron’s nose nudged your clit with every curl of his tongue. Setting a steady rhythm, his groan reverberated through your body. Chest rising and falling, you squeezed his arm, breathing out a quiet, “fuck”. He watched your reactions closely, noting the involuntary twitch in your thighs when he lapped at your bud. The way your bottom lip quivered before you bit it.
Your head lolled back into the pillows when he tightened his hold, pushing your thighs flush against him. Alternating between slow and fast movements, he gathered your arousal with every stroke. Back arching now, you twisted your hand in the sheets, attempting to roll your hips in tandem. The pressure in your stomach growing immensely, you released a shaky moan, shutting your eyes. Cameron flattened his tongue on your clit, motioning his head side to side before increasing the pace.
Relentless in his pursuit to make you orgasm, he latched onto your bud, rapidly flicking his tongue around it. Reaching a hand up to simultaneously massage your breast, he rolled each nipple between his thumb and index finger before palming one. Bringing your hand out of the sheets, you clung to him, digging your nails into his arm. Brows furrowing, you plead, “d- don’t stop”. Cameron was aching, desperate for relief as he twitched in his sweats. The friction from the covers only made it worse.
With another stimulating flick of his tongue triggering your orgasm, your thighs trembled around his head. Emitting a loud moan, you writhed under him while he continued. He smothered himself, delving in between your folds to catch all of your juices. Through the aftershocks of pleasure, the vibration from his groan caused you to peer down. The sight made your stomach tense again, sending a tremor up your spine. Mouth moving slowly now, his eyes were closed to fully savor everything you gave him. Squeezing his arms, you uttered, “Cam- “.
Cameron opened his eyes, the sound of your voice catching his attention. He massaged each breast again before grabbing your hip. Reluctantly detaching, he lifted himself up from his position. Palming your thighs, his voice held a rasp. “Too much?” Still in a dazed state, you were silent for a second as you looked at him. Everything about him was enough to send a spiral through your core but seeing him look so sated with half his face covered in your slick was an entirely different experience.
Needy for more, you shook your head no, reaching out for him. Eager to close the distance, he settled on top of you, melding your lips together. Tasting yourself on his tongue sent another whirl of heat through your stomach. Trailing your nails along his back, you parted to breathe out, “lay down”. He listened, rolling off to lay next to you. Cameron watched you kneel next to him, dipping your finger in the waistband of his sweats. “Can I…?” Immediately nodding in response, his heart raced at the thought.
You had already assumed he must’ve been well endowed from a few glimpses of his print, yet you still weren’t prepared when you tugged on his pants. Cameron saw the gears turning in your head. Your thighs shifted for relief when he came into view. Lengthy with a slight curve, good girth, and a few prominent veins throbbing when he twitched. Throwing your leg over his waist to straddle him now, you sat on his lap, placing your hands on his chest. He grasped your hips, letting out a harsh breath as you glide his dick in between your folds. After taking a minute to admire how he looked, you sealed your lips over his, continuing the back and forth motion.
Breathing out against his lips, “you want to feel what you do to me?”, Cameron twitched, feeling a bead of precum dribble out onto his abdomen.
Begging with his eyes, he murmured a low, “please”.
Running your hand up his neck to cup his jaw, you tilted his head, pressing a line of kisses on his cheek. Once you reached his ear you sweetened your tone. “Please what…?” You released a quiet moan when he unintentionally caused his tip to graze your clit from a desperate jerk of his hips.
Applying more pressure to your waist, it took everything in him not to buck his hips in sync. “Please let me feel you…”. He tilted his head in your direction, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Please…”.
Turning your head to connect your lips, the kiss quickly deepened. Lifting your hips to leave enough space, you nipped at his bottom lip, voicing, “go ahead”. Cameron took your cue, reaching underneath your thigh to line himself up with your entrance. Beginning to gradually descend, you kept your gaze focused on his face to distract yourself from the increasing stretch. Lips parted in awe with his eyes zoned in on yours, he was officially gone. You blinked a few times, clenching around his dick after he fully bottomed out. Though the pressure was there, your arousal had soothed the feeling. Doing an experimental roll to test the pain, all you were met with was pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.
Unable to hold in a throaty groan, his hands wandered down to your ass then your thighs, gripping on for some sort of stability. Eyes threatening to roll back, he shut them. It was too much. The warmth and wetness coming from your walls… how perfect you looked in this position… then you started to move. Raising till just his tip was left inside, you came back down in one motion. Feeling you trail your hand over towards his cheek, Cameron heard you moan out, “look at me”. He listened, grunting when you repeated the action.
Both of your hands gravitating down to his chest, you start a steady rocking motion. Fluttering around his length, you moan, “Keep them just like that”. His eyes appearing even more hooded at this angle, he maintained heavy eye contact, watching you gyrate on him. “Can u do something for me baby?” Your voice was breathless, trying to contain how close you were already.
Cameron nodded, “anything”.
“Tell me when you’re close”. You did one last roll of your hips, planting your hands towards his shoulders. Digging your knees firmly into the bed, you repeatedly bounced up and down, gaining extra traction with his guidance. Watching as he struggled keeping his eyes open now, your lips quivered when he skimmed your g-spot. His breath was staggered, each slip back down sending a ripple of arousal traveling through his body. Pulsating at the feeling, you whimper, “F-fuck, Cam”. The vulgar wet noise increasing with every impale only spurred you on.
His gaze drifted lower, zoning in on your arousal pooling at the base of his dick. Hoarsely stuttering, “I-I’m close baby”, Cameron pulled you in flush against him. Firmly curling one arm around your waist, he gripped the back of your thigh with his free hand. Your head dropped to his shoulder, a high pitched moan tumbling out at the skin to skin contact. Continuing to guide your hips in a rocking motion, he kept your body locked in place, beginning to thrust upward, meeting you each time you sunk back down.
Chiming against his ear, “hold it”, your stomach thrummed as the knot tightened, threatening to come undone with every angled thrust. Vision slipping and the noises becoming uncontrollable now, you clawed down his abdomen. He flexed under your touch, speeding up the pace.
Everything felt too good. Your breasts swaying on his chest… your uneven pants for air flowing out directly into his ear drum… the rhythmic pattern of your pulses… everything. Through the influx of sensation, Cameron twitched, mumbling something incoherent in response. Sounding like a mixture of a groan and a plea, he repeated himself. “I can’t—”, exhaling with a grunt.
Voice trembling with your unsteady breath, you moan, “You said you’d do anything…”
Upon hearing your tone, Cameron quickly jumbled off, “I will, f-fuck I will, you know that”.
Whimpering, “show me”, that was all Cameron needed. He caught you off guard, snapping his hips up at an alarming speed now. Desperately grasping onto his arm, your body shook. Before your impending orgasm completely took over, you managed to stutter, “you can—, o-oh fuck, you can cum Cam! You can cum baby!”
As his entire body tensed, he was able to murmur a quiet, “thank you”, finishing with a hoarse groan. The sudden feeling of your palm resting on his cheek paired with one more drag of your hips made him swell. Nothing measured up to the way you felt wrapped around him. You clamped down hard, warmth oozing from your core and treading throughout your body, you closed your eyes. Shuddering, he coated your walls, prolonging your orgasm. You two came back down after several moments of listening to the quick thrum of your heartbeats. Starting to rub soft circles onto your skin, he kissed your shoulder. “How do you feel?”
Emitting a sigh of content, you hum, “like I could run ten laps. Of course, not physically right now but internally? Yeah”. Snickering when his laugh vibrated against your body, you lifted your head. “What about you hm?”
“Feel the exact same”. You leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss on his lips before resting your head back on his shoulder.
After cleaning up and getting comfortable under the covers now, you draped your leg over his hip. You focused on his chest, eyes absentmindedly following the movement of your finger trailing side to side. With his head slightly tilted down to see you clearly, Cameron was staring. He held onto your thigh, pondering over the proper way to make things official. Assuming that was already clear and asking outright at the moment both seemed too casual for options but he needed you to know he was serious. Breaking the silence, he blurted, “Can I take you out on a date today?” Heart rate speeding up when you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, he cleared his throat, adding “in the evening I mean. For dinner if you’re free…?”
Lips curling into a smile, you noticed the thread of nervousness in his voice. Refraining from making a joke, you simply nodded, “and where will we be going?”
“I have a new place in mind. I promise you’ll like it though”.
“Oh, I see…”, you squinted, humming in response. “You must be trying to surprise me if that’s all the info I get”.
“I am”. He chuckled, “don’t expect me to tell you, it’s not going to work!”
You were well versed in pulling information out of him. “I won’t pry, I swear!” Despite his words, it would be extremely easy to get it out of him if you persisted. Deciding against doing so, you’d let him have this one and simmer in your curiosity until later. Your face subtly began to morph into concern when you spotted his eye bags. Making sure you were seeing properly, you tipped his chin downward, getting a closer look. “Have you been sleeping…?”
He hesitated before voicing, “Yeah”.
“Cam…”
His eyes briefly glanced away. “I have… not well but I have”. Seeing a small frown develop now, he tried to offset the mood with a laugh. “What? How bad do they look?!”
“It’s not that they look bad, I just— “, you paused, moving your hand back down to his chest. “I didn’t think you’d be losing sleep”.
“Shit I already knew when I left that night. Was gonna call you out of reflex so many times but I was really trying to give you space”. Breaking into a fit of laughter, you leaned against him, hiding your face. He began laughing with you, confused at your reaction. “What?”
After your laugh died down, you moved back, admitting, “I was too. I almost caved on like the third day, but I figured you wouldn’t feel like talking and I didn’t know what to say…”
“So, we went two weeks…” Briefly exchanging a similar look when the realization set in that the misery was mutual, you both immediately broke into a fit of laughter. “That can never happen again. Everything felt off during that time”.
Cameron chuckled when you extended your pinky. “Promise me right now that if we ever find ourselves no contact again, one of us will break the ice if it reaches three days”.
“I’m never letting that happen again but— “, he connected your pinkies, “I promise”. You leaned in, pressing a kiss on them to seal the deal. He did the same, muttering, “just for good measure”, before giving your lips a peck. Smiling against his mouth, you gave him another. Then one more until he caressed your cheek, pulling you closer.
Thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated!
-This freaky motherfucker is the type to just show up out of nowhere and lick you as a greeting, like he's some kind of dog.
-Cannot visit you all the time, considering he's kind of a wanted criminal and has a grieving single father hot on his tail most of the time, but when he does, he won't leave you alone.
-Higgs means well. He knows you miss him, and he misses you, and all he really wants is to spend time with you, which is an admirable enough intention, but his execution of said intention is terrible.
-He just smothers you with his presence, refusing to give you any personal space unless it's for bathroom breaks or to allow you to do something dangerous, like cooking or driving. Otherwise, expect to be maintaining physical contact for the remainder of his visit.
-He'll hug you, cling onto you, kiss you breathless, and force you to carry him all over the place like cargo, knowing you won't have the stamina to keep that up for long, inevitably forcing you into sitting down and snuggle up with him. Why he cannot just sit next to you and simply enjoy your presence is beyond the realm of reasoning.
-Your face, neck, and collarbone are almost always covered in his lipstick.
-He yaps to you a lot as well, and while a lot of it is about his journey to you and the things he did or saw along the way, he also won't ever shut up about Sam.
-If you didn't know any better, you'd think he has a crush. Maybe you don't know any better. It's always "Sam did this" and "Sam did that", and "I thought about Sam while doing this " and "That thing reminds me of something Sam did to me".
-It shouldn't be hard to see that Higgs does this mostly because he absolutely loves the extra attention he gets when you get jealous of Sam after putting up with all that for a week or two.
-This gives him an excuse to say "aww, does someone feel left out?" and proceed to smother you with himself all over again.
-Of course, there is always the possibility that he only does this to manipulate you into hating Sam, making it that much easier for Higgs to use you to further his nefarious plans...
-Tried to surprise you with his Bridges employee disguise and failed miserably. Sure, he can try to change his voice and vary his body language to fool you, but you've had to suffocate underneath him for so long, you can tell it's him just by breathing the same air.
-Annoying as he is, Higgs acts this way simply because he doesn't know how else to express himself, and when you view it that way, suddenly all his pestering becomes beautiful and sweet. Or maybe that's just what he wants you to think. Maybe it's all a trick, some kind of lie he cooked up to amuse himself with. Only time will tell, won't it?
-On a more lighthearted note, you know that he locks himself in the bathroom for half an hour every morning because he needs his eyeliner to be perfect and will completely start over if so much as one stroke is out of place, so plan your morning routine around this.
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Doesn’t matter how close he is to you, even buried deep inside you he’s chasing your lips like it’ll keep him from dying. pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, the unmistakable drag makes you keen, throwing your head back in bliss and he chases you, shifting moving his body to hover your frame, supporting himself by his forearms as he cradles your head. “don’t go.” fingers combing through your locks, ghosting his lips up the column of your throat placing soft kisses along your jaw, before catching your lips, trading a groan into you mouth as he flexes his hips, a stuttering move to ease into the rhythm he’s trying to set.
i have not watched/played death stranding !! if this is ooc pretend he is a yearner ✋🙂↕️
The royal dining room smelled like braised komodo turkey, warm spices, and impending chaos. That last ingredient was entirely Sokka’s fault.
He had arrived two days ago under the very reasonable pretense of a “diplomatic visit” which everyone in the palace understood to mean he had eaten all the sea prunes in the South Pole and needed a change of scenery. He had immediately made himself at home in the most aggressively Sokka way possible—reorganizing the palace kitchen’s meat storage, loudly critiquing the royal chefs’ spice choices, and staging what he called a “cultural exchange” that mostly involved teaching three Imperial Guards how to play Pai Sho wrong.
Zuko was handling it with the strained, tight-jawed dignity of a man who genuinely loved his brother-in-arms and also, genuinely, desperately wished he would go home.
You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life.
“The problem,” Sokka announced, gesturing with his chopsticks at nobody in particular, “is that Fire Nation desserts don’t hit right. Too much spice. Not enough—I don’t know—comfort.”
“They’re not supposed to be comfortable,” Zuko said flatly, not looking up from his bowl. “They’re supposed to be refined.”
“Refined.” Sokka repeated it like a curse word. He looked at you across the wide lacquered table. “Y/N, back me up. You’ve eaten in the North. You know what a good dessert tastes like.”
“I’m staying out of this,” you said serenely, pouring yourself a cup of jasmine tea.
“Smart woman.” Zuko reached for his own tea.
“Traitor,” Sokka said to you, but his tone was fond. He jabbed his chopsticks toward the small porcelain dish near the center of the table. It was a delicate Fire Nation layered cake, dark red bean paste between thin sheets of honey sponge, dusted with powdered cinnamon. “I’ll admit, though. That thing looks dangerous. In a good way.”
“It’s yuèbing-style,” you said, leaning forward slightly to inspect it. “Fire Nation adaptation. They bake it with dragon fruit reduction instead of lotus paste.”
Sokka’s eyes lit up with the specific enthusiasm he reserved for food and battle strategy. “Okay. Okay, that sounds incredible, actually—”
“It is,” you confirmed. You picked up a small serving spoon, cut a neat portion, and held it out. Not toward Sokka, but toward the man sitting directly to your left.
Zuko stiffened.
It was a nearly imperceptible thing. A millimeter of tension across his broad shoulders, a slight sharpening of his gaze as it dropped to the spoon now hovering in the space between you. The cake sat there, perfectly portioned, an earnest little offering from his fiancée.
He looked at it. He looked at Sokka, who was watching the exchange with the focused, calculating attention of a man who had once tracked a sea serpent across open water for three days on a bet.
Zuko looked back at the spoon.
“I have my own utensils,” he said.
You blinked. “I know. I’m offering you mine.”
“I can feed myself.”
“Zuko—”
“I’m twenty-eight years old.”
The silence that followed was exquisite. You held his gaze for one long beat. He held it back, expression perfectly composed, jaw set at the precise angle you had privately catalogued as his I am the Fire Lord and I am not flustered, what are you talking about, I am completely fine angle.
You lowered the spoon.
Across the table, Sokka made a sound that wasn’t quite a cough and wasn’t quite a laugh, but existed somewhere in the loaded territory between them. You caught his eye.
Something passed between you. It was wordless, instantaneous, and absolutely damning. It was the specific telepathy that develops between two people who both find the same man endearing in his mortifying stubbornness.
You looked back down at the spoon in your hand. Then, with the serene composure of someone who had absolutely no ulterior motive whatsoever, you turned slightly in your seat and extended the spoon across the table toward Sokka instead.
“Sokka,” you said pleasantly. “Do you want to try it?”
Sokka’s expression went from conspiratorial delight to the studied, innocent blankness of a seasoned chaos agent. He straightened in his seat. He placed a solemn hand over his heart.
“I,” he said gravely, “would be honored.”
He leaned forward. He accepted the spoon. He closed his eyes as he tasted it with the theatrical reverence of a man experiencing a religious event, and then he let out a low, appreciative groan that was at least forty percent louder than necessary.
“Oh,” Sokka breathed. “Oh, that’s—Y/N. Y/N, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Isn’t it?” you agreed warmly.
“I might have to move into the Fire Nation palace permanently.”
“We have a lovely east wing.”
“Perfect. I’ll take it.”
The temperature in the dining room had been climbing for approximately twelve seconds. You felt it before you looked. It was the specific, simmering heat that radiated off Zuko when his composure was being tested. The barely-leashed inner fire usually only made itself known when he was in the middle of a council session gone wrong, or when his fiancée had just deliberately fed another man dessert right in front of him.
Zuko was staring at Sokka with an expression so flat and so incinerating it could have stripped paint from the walls.
Sokka, to his eternal credit, met that stare with the breezy, untroubled grin of a man who had survived a war and therefore had genuinely recalibrated his fear threshold. He set the spoon down on the table between you with a small, precise click.
“I mean,” Sokka said, in the tone of someone making a completely reasonable observation, “you did turn it down.”
You pressed your lips together very hard.
“You specifically said,” you added, with perfect innocence, “that you could feed yourself.”
Zuko turned to look at you. The flat expression had not moved. If anything, it had intensified. His golden eyes tracked from your face to the spoon to Sokka’s deeply satisfied expression and back to your face again, and you watched the precise moment he decided he was not going to dignify this with a response.
He reached across the table. He picked up the spoon. He cut himself a portion of the cake with the silent, deliberate calm of a man who was certainly not bothered. He ate it. He set the spoon down.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Just fine?” Sokka asked.
“It’s cake, Sokka.”
“Y/N said it was incredible—”
“The conversation,” Zuko said, with a finality that had once ended full council meetings, “is over.”
You and Sokka thought it was funny.
Well. Your little prank is not so funny now.
Because right now, you are in the Fire Lord’s private chambers, stripped bare and face-down across his lap with the heavy silk sheets bunched uselessly beneath your palms, rapidly revising your opinion of the entire spoon incident.
He had been very calm about it. That was the most unnerving part. No raised voice, no dramatic declaration. Just the quiet deliberate efficiency of a man with a point to make and absolutely no intention of rushing. He walked you through the mahogany doors, turned the lock, sat down on the edge of the mattress, and looked at you. That was all it took. One look, and here you were: draped across his lap as his large calloused hand rested light and warm at the small of your back, the blistering heat of his thighs radiating straight through your bare skin, the horrible charged anticipation of waiting.
“You thought that was funny,” he said. Not a question. His voice was low, that gravelly unhurried register that did something catastrophic to your better judgment.
“A little,” you admitted, into the sheets.
His hand lifted. It came down with a sharp deliberate crack across the curve of your backside, and the sound that tore out of you was not dignified in any conceivable way.
“Zuko—”
“A little.” He repeated it perfectly even. His palm smoothed immediately over the sting, the scorching heat of his hand pressing into the bloom of warmth he had left behind. Your whole body clenched involuntarily at the contrast, the sharp bite of it dissolving almost instantly into a spreading maddening heat that pooled low and heavy in your core. “We’ll revisit that.”
He did it again. And again. Slow and measured, with that ruthless patience he applied to absolutely everything—council sessions, fire katas, and the systematic dismantling of your composure. Each strike was followed by the same soothing pass of his palm, his thumb tracing the flushed curve of your skin almost tenderly, and the combination of it was genuinely unhinged. Your fingers twisted into the silk. Your hips rolled without your permission. You heard the low dark exhale that came from him in response.
That was the thing about him. Zuko’s jealousy was a quiet, suffocating weight. He operated with the exact same obsessive, single-minded intensity that had once driven him across the globe for three years. Now, all of that relentless focus was trapped inside this room, directed entirely at stripping away your composure until you remembered exactly who claimed you.
You supposed that’s just how Fire Lord Zuko is. The jealous type.
By the time he finally stilled his hand, your skin was flushed a vivid burning pink, radiating its own warmth, every trace of your natural waterbender’s cold chased clean out of you. Your breathing was a wreck. The sheets beneath your palms were damp from the faint frost that had spiked off your overwhelmed skin and melted instantly against the furnace heat of his thighs.
“There,” Zuko murmured, his hand resting warm and still against your lower back. His voice had dropped into something quieter. Not soft exactly, but settled. Certain. “There you are.”
What came after was not gentle, and it was not quick.
He put you on all fours. His hands were sure and unhurried as he arranged you exactly where he wanted you, and the first stroke of his cock splitting you open dragged a completely ruined sound out of your throat that you felt no shame about whatsoever. He was thick and devastating at this angle, every thrust bottoming out so deep you felt it behind your navel, his hips snapping into the still-flushed spanked curve of your ass with a sharp filthy sound that filled the entire chamber. His long dark hair had come loose from its tie and fell around his face as he leaned over you, the ends brushing your spine, and even half-wrecked as you were the sight of him in your peripheral vision made it worse—that sharp jaw locked tight, those golden eyes dark with focus, the broad scarred expanse of his chest sheened faintly with exertion, lean muscle shifting with every drive of his hips.
He fucked you thoroughly. Properly. Deep hard strokes at a pace that left you completely incoherent, your arms trembling, your face pressing into the pillow as your own voice became entirely unrecognizable to you. Tears tracked silently down your cheeks, the bright overwhelmed kind that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the total dissolution of every last piece of your composure. You came with a broken sob muffled into the silk, clenching hard around him, and he followed close after with a low wrecked groan pressed between your shoulder blades, his hands gripping your hips so tight you’d feel it tomorrow.
For a moment, you both just breathed.
Then he drew you up.
He positioned you with those large certain hands, your back against his chest, his legs bracketing yours, the scorching wall of him solid at your spine. You were facing the mirror at the foot of the bed. You understood immediately, completely, why it was where it was.
You looked absolutely catastrophic. Your hair was a total wreck, dark strands plastered to your flushed tear-damp cheeks. Your lips were swollen. Your eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, the look of someone who had been thoroughly taken apart and hadn’t been put back together yet. Your cool skin was flushed with heat and steaming faintly where it pressed against the blistering heat of his chest, the fire-and-ice contrast rendered almost obscene in the amber glow of the hearth.
And then there was Zuko behind you, which was a genuinely unfair thing to have to look at in this particular state. His dark hair was fully loose now, falling in thick dishevelled waves past his jaw and brushing his scarred collarbone. His chest was bare, broad and heavily muscled with the lean hard lines of a man who had trained every day of his life, old battle scars mapping his torso in silver and pale gold. His jaw was tight, a muscle feathering in his scarred cheek. His golden eyes burned steady in the low firelight, fixed entirely on you. He looked like something forged from fire and focused want. You looked like you’d been hit by a wave and hadn’t surfaced yet.
The contrast was genuinely criminal.
His chin hooked over your shoulder. His golden eyes found yours in the glass and held.
“Don’t look away, princess,” he said quietly.
His hand slid down your stomach.
You were already so sensitized that when his fingers found your clit, your whole body jolted on pure reflex. His other arm banded across your ribs immediately, dragging you back flush against him, keeping you exactly and inescapably in place.
“Zuko—” His name fractured in your throat. “I can’t, I’m already—”
“I know,” he said. He didn’t stop.
His fingers worked your clit in tight relentless circles, the direct pressure against something so oversensitized from everything before that every stroke felt like too much and not enough at the same time. His other hand slid up to cup your left breast, squeezing the soft weight of it before his fingers found your nipple and pinched, sharp enough to make you gasp and clench and dig your nails into his forearm hard enough to leave marks.
“Look at the mirror,” he said against your ear.
You looked. You wished briefly that you hadn’t. Your face was a complete disaster, mouth open, eyes wet, cheeks scarlet, expression stripped down to pure sensation with nothing held back at all. The image of you coming apart while he remained so devastatingly composed behind you, his dark eyes tracking your every reaction with that consuming focused attention, was enough to make your thighs shake all over again.
His fingers tightened on your nipple, a rolling pinch that sent a sharp spike straight down to your already screaming clit. Then the hand at your core shifted, two fingers curling inside you while his thumb flicked directly over your swollen bud, and you actually sobbed. Loud and undignified and completely beyond caring.
“Still think it was funny?” he murmured against your ear, low and dark and almost conversational. His fingers never lost their rhythm for a single second.
You opened your mouth. You were going to say a little. You had fully intended to say a little, purely on principle, right up until his thumb pressed down firm and his fingers curled deeper and his other hand delivered one sharp stinging flick directly to your clit. Your entire spine arced off his chest.
What came out instead was his name. Just his name, over and over, increasingly incoherent.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, low and rough against your temple.
The orgasm hit so hard your vision went white at the edges, your whole body shaking, thighs clamping shut around his hand. His arm was the only thing keeping you from sliding completely off the mattress. He worked you through every convulsing shuddering second of it without mercy, fingers pumping steadily through the clench of your walls, thumb drawing slow circles over your hypersensitive clit until the sounds you were making were mostly just breath and the occasional broken fragment of please.
He finally, mercifully, stilled.
The room was very quiet. The hearth crackled. Your chest heaved. His chin was still hooked over your shoulder and in the mirror his expression had shifted into something quieter. Still dark, still certain, but underneath it the faintest trace of the thing he could never quite say out loud in dining rooms and corridors. The thing that only ever came out like this.
A thin curl of steam rose where your sweat-damp skin pressed against the furnace of his chest. The hearth fire guttered once, sympathetically.
He lowered you both down onto the mattress slowly, tucking you against his chest the same way he always did, with that quiet absolute possessiveness, like the decision had been made a long time ago and he had no interest in revisiting it. His hand settled heavy and warm at the curve of your waist. His thumb began its slow idle circle.
You lay there completely and entirely destroyed, listening to his heartbeat gradually decelerate against your cheek. The burn of him had faded from overwhelming to something grounding, a steady bone-deep warmth seeping into places the cold had lived for years.
“For the record,” you said, into the quiet.
“Mm.”
“You could have just eaten the cake.”
A beat. Then, low and dry, his voice rumbling against your cheek. “I’m aware of that.”
“Would have been easier.”
“I said I’m aware, princess.”
You smiled against his skin. “I’m just saying. For future reference. If I offer you a spoon—”
“I’ll take the spoon.”
“Good.”
“Don’t test me again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, partially lying as you pressed a soft kiss to the scar over his eye.
prologue ⧽ read more
this is actually a bonus chapter from the main ‘sublimation’ universe ;)
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୨୧ Sex ban on your husband, Satoru, has him more desperate than ever [18+]
“Aaah— please, baby, let me—” “No.”
You stand your ground firmly. You were enforcing a sex ban on your husband, Gojo. Was a sex ban really necessary? Probably not. He forgot you were spending a day out with friends since you left before he woke up, and you were just taking soo loonngg to get back home. You two usually had sweet, gentle, lazy sex in the mornings to start your day off on the right foot. But you thought he looked so peaceful asleep, you didn’t want to wake him before you left. How were you supposed to know how pent up you’d be leaving him?
It was 4 PM, and you were still out. Poor Satoru just couldn’t take it anymore. He whipped out his phone to take a video of him palming at his aching cock, moaning like a whore into the mic.
You saw the notification pop up on your phone and thought nothing of it, assuming it was just an innocent video from your husband. How was Satoru supposed to know you’d be around your friends when you opened it? With the volume dialed all the way up too, although that one’s on you.
“You didn’t think to give me a heads up first?!” you shouted at Satoru when you came home, who just pouted like a puppy as he accepted your scolding.
Fast forward three days to the current moment, you were in no mood to have sex with him. Well. You were. But you were being stubborn, as per usual. He had already apologized and everything. You weren’t really sure why you were still enforcing a sex ban on your lovely husband. Your lovely husband who was rock hard just at the sight of you sitting across from him on the couch. Your lovely husband who was massaging your feet, trying to get on your good side.
Fuck.
He was so hard.
And you were so horny.
But again, so stubborn.
Maybe if you just….
You scoot your foot closer to his crotch, slightly rubbing your toe against the outline of his tip. It had been three days since you touched his cock. You missed it.
You tried to act nonchalant. Like this wasn’t intentional. Like you weren’t trying to rile him up. You’d pull your foot away every few seconds, pretending to be more focused on your phone than you were on him.
You’d slowly graze your foot against his base, all the way back up to his tip. Then move away. Repeat.
Satoru caught on instantly. Did you think he was born yesterday or something?
However, he didn’t want to spook you by acting too fast. He’d thrust up ever so carefully against your touch. When you’d graze your foot against his tip, he’d lean into it.
More.
And more.
And more.
You’d grown less careful yourself, not caring about subtlety.
“Baby… can I?” he looked over to you with those big blue eyes, hovering his hands above your ankle.
You nod, not exactly sure what he was asking or what you were agreeing to, but you think you get the gist of it.
He grabs your ankle with one of his hands and uses the other to position himself on the couch.
He leans into your foot, just grinding against it desperately.
“Mpphff— I love you. Fuucck—” he groans as he reaches his high, his pace growing faster and unsteady till eventually a wet spot forms in his sweatpants.
“Thank you.” he lets out a breathy sigh.
“That desperate, huh?” You try to look unaffected, as if your panties weren’t soaking from that little show Satoru put on. Like your pussy wasn’t aching with regret that you let him cum in those pants of his instead of cumming in you.
“Yeah. I missed you.”
Yeah, you’re a weak woman.
“Okay, you’re forgiven.”
He cocks his eyebrow up and gives you that infamous grin.
“Really? Just like that?” His voice teases.
“Take your pants off, Toru.”
“Anything for my wife.”
a/n: here’s the visual link that this was inspired by. It kept showing up on my feed so I fear I had to write something about it. Pls no foot fetish allegations, I just thought the video was hot🥲 I enjoy desperate men.
