#I like to call this the 'come into my frame'

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hello! can you write for Charles taking his baby girl for her first haircut to his mom’s salon? And like the whole family doing lunch afterwards and just spoiling the baby

A Special First Haircut

The soft morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Charles' apartment, casting a warm glow over the living room where little Yn sat on the floor, playing with her stuffed animals. She was humming to herself, completely immersed in a made-up conversation between her plush rabbit and a tiny toy horse. Charles watched her from the couch, a fond smile on his lips.

His daughter, his sweet sunshine.

Yn was the kind of child who made every day brighter just by existing. She was all golden curls and sparkling green eyes, her laughter the most beautiful sound in the world. She had inherited her grandmother’s and uncle Arthur’s blond hair, though Charles liked to say it had a little of his messy touch to it. It was long now, cascading down her back in soft waves, and today was the day she would get her first-ever haircut.

Charles had made up his mind instantly—there was no one else he would trust for such an important moment except his maman.

"Mon amour," Charles called, standing up and walking over to Yn, crouching down beside her. "Are you ready to go see Grand-mère?"

Yn gasped excitedly, immediately dropping her toys and looking up at him with wide, excited eyes. "Yes! Grand-mère! She’s gonna cut my hair, right, Papa?"

"Oui," he confirmed, running his fingers gently through her soft curls. "But just a little. Your hair is too pretty to cut too much."

Yn giggled, clearly pleased, and jumped up. She immediately ran toward her little coat, struggling to put it on in her excitement. Charles helped her, chuckling at her enthusiasm, before grabbing the car keys.

"Let’s go, ma princesse."

When they arrived at Pascale’s salon, Charles could already see his mother through the glass storefront, tending to a client. As soon as she noticed them, her entire face lit up with joy. She quickly wrapped up the appointment, saying a few kind words to the woman in the chair before ushering her out with a warm smile.

Then, she did something Charles fully expected—she flipped the sign on the door to "Closed" and locked it.

"Charles! Mon ange!" Pascale greeted, pulling her son into a tight hug before bending down to Yn's level. "And my beautiful, beautiful granddaughter!"

Yn let out an excited squeal and threw herself into her grandmother’s arms. Pascale laughed, lifting her up easily despite her small frame. She pressed several kisses to Yn’s cheek, making the little girl giggle and squirm in her grasp.

"Grand-mère!" Yn squeaked between laughs. "You’re tickling me!"

Pascale pulled back with a mock gasp. "Oh no! I would never!" She then ran a gentle hand through Yn’s hair, eyes softening. "My little sunshine, are you ready for your special haircut?"

Yn nodded quickly. "Yes! Papa said not too much!"

"Of course," Pascale agreed, setting her down gently before looking at Charles. "Would you like me to trim it just a little, keep it neat?"

Charles nodded. "Just enough to keep it healthy, maman. I can’t let her lose her princess curls just yet."

Pascale laughed, then gestured toward the styling chair. "Come, mon trésor. Let’s get you all set up."

Yn eagerly climbed into the chair, legs dangling adorably. Pascale carefully fastened a tiny cape around her, making sure she was comfortable before gently combing through her golden locks.

As she worked, Charles pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message to his brothers.

Charles: Yn is getting her first haircut. Maman closed the salon just for her. You two want to come?

Lorenzo replied almost instantly.

Lorenzo: Of course! Charlotte and I are coming.

A second later, Arthur’s response appeared.

Arthur: I’m on my way!

Charles smiled, already picturing how much his family was going to fuss over Yn. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up just in time to see Pascale snipping the very first strand of Yn’s hair. The little girl watched in the mirror with wide, fascinated eyes.

"That’s my hair!" Yn exclaimed, staring at the small golden lock Pascale had cut.

"It is," Pascale said with a smile.

As Pascale continued working, the door opened, and Lorenzo walked in, his arm wrapped around Charlotte’s waist. Arthur followed closely behind, looking just as excited.

"Lorenzo! Arthur! Charlotte!" Yn squealed, waving at them from the chair.

"Mon petit trésor!" Lorenzo grinned, immediately walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Look at you! Such a big girl, getting her first haircut!"

Charlotte smiled warmly. "You look adorable, Yn."

Arthur leaned down, resting his arms on the back of the chair. "Are you sure you want to cut your princess hair?" he teased.

Yn giggled. "Grand-mère says I still get to keep my princess hair!"

"Of course she does," Pascale said, sending Arthur a pointed look before ruffling his hair. "Don’t make her second-guess it."

Arthur raised his hands in surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright."

The adults stepped back, letting Pascale finish trimming Yn’s hair. But then—

The salon suddenly filled with the sound of Yn’s uncontrollable giggles.

Everyone turned their heads in surprise, only to see Pascale holding the blow dryer, directing warm air toward Yn’s head. Her hair was flying in all directions, making her laugh so hard she had to grab onto the armrests to keep from wriggling too much.

"PAPA, LOOK!" Yn giggled. "MY HAIR IS FLYING!"

Charles grinned, pulling out his phone to snap a quick picture. "You look like a little fairy, ma princesse."

"Or a lion!" Arthur added.

"Lion princess!" Yn declared, still giggling.

Lorenzo chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s too cute."

When Pascale finally finished, she turned off the blow dryer and carefully ran her fingers through Yn’s hair one last time.

"There," she said proudly. "My beautiful sunshine, all done."

Yn turned her head from side to side, admiring herself in the mirror. "It’s so pretty!"

Charles leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "You’re always pretty, mon amour."

Everyone else immediately chimed in with compliments.

"You look like a real princess!" Charlotte said.

"The cutest princess ever," Arthur added.

"Perfection," Lorenzo agreed.

Yn, slightly overwhelmed by all the attention, giggled shyly and reached for her father. Charles laughed and scooped her up, letting her hide her face in his neck.

"My little shy baby," he murmured, rubbing her back gently.

Pascale smiled fondly at the scene before clapping her hands together. "Alright, now that we’re done, who’s ready for lunch?"

"Me!" Yn perked up instantly. "I’m so hungry!"

Arthur ruffled her hair. "Then let’s go! I think our little princess deserves a big treat today."

At lunch, Yn was completely spoiled by her uncles. Arthur insisted she get a chocolate milkshake, while Lorenzo made sure she had extra fries. Charlotte helped her color on the kids’ menu, and Pascale couldn’t stop pressing kisses to her forehead.

Charles just sat back, watching it all with a full heart.

His little sunshine, surrounded by love.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[image-id-amateur]

[image 1-6 IDs]

Screenshots of a Reddit post from r/TrueOffMyChest by u/Empty-Ad-2301

First post reads: "I miss my husband so goddamn much. UPDATE I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest. I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another. They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left. I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?"

Next image continues post:

"hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise. EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative. Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month. Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach. EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened"

An update 3 days later reads

:UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago. Update from this post. EDIT 3: Got approved! Here's the FINAL UPDATE. Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression. I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to. We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years. What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*. I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted"

The update continues:

"someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious. We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed. I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though. I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me. Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3 EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update. EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not."

The next image shows a final update three days later. It reads:

"FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night. Update from this post. My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered. A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore. He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God"

The next image continues the post

"He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal. At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted. I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine. Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes."

[/End images 1-6]

[image 7 ID] an image of Kermit the frog laying on a bed spread, absolutely stricken and surrounded by hearts. [/End ID]

[quarterlifekitty]

apparently there's an item called mating frame for cats so they can mate comfortably or something idk i just saw it in a glance.

thinking about reader being put in a mating frame built for her, on her hands and knees just with more support and comfort and easier from price to pin her down, keep her from squirming too much, trying to wiggle away from overstimulation.

or have the whole team going at 'er why not, maybe omega reader being bred by all 4 alphas. maybe maybe... thoughts thoughts...

You know, stop me if this is too freaky, but uhhhhh.... I'm on my hybrid shit right now. really playing with my fucking dolls rn. I'm once again getting real weird with it.

Laswell who's in the business of training cat hybrids for show. Nikolai and Price are her golden boys-- they're in their retirement now, but they're still treated like absolute princes. Their ribbons and trophies are all over the walls.

Simon is her current champion. Prized for his even temperament and unique coloring.

Soap and Gaz are in the wings, a bit immature still, but fully grown and waiting for their time in the spotlight.

Like a lot of people, Laswell marries within her field. She met her wife when she was attending shows-- more of an amateur, just one little kitty she enters in some more local events and showings.

You.

You have a few ribbons of your own-- mainly for your sweet disposition.

So, when Laswell and her wife move in together (I'm gonna give her a name for clarity-- let's call her Amara), Laswell sees it as a great opportunity to break into breeding-- something she's always had the intention to do, but never really found the right fit for any of her boys. But she has a feeling they'll like you.

And they do. My god they do. Soap and Gaz are all over you first, still very much energetic and playful, eager to prove themselves. Simon is a bit more aloof, but it doesn't escape the others how he allows you to curl into him when he naps in the sunny spot he's quite territorial over.

Nikolai has you as a little shadow. He takes a lot of pleasure in showing you around the property, and hearing the little bell jingling on your collar behind him as you curiously follow after him.

Price is the most openly affectionate. It makes Soap and Gaz a bit jealous, to be honest-- Price's approval had been harder to earn for them. He's constantly grooming you, pulling you against him to settle in his bed (tells you to humor an old man, hm?)

At first Kate and Amara wanted things to happen naturally, but it became clear after a short amount of time that it wasn't going to happen. Not because you didn't get along with them, but because you're just too skittish and nervous. You take the courtship just fine, but squirm and panic when it finally comes time to get mounted-- so the frame becomes necessary.

But then, of course, they have the difficult job of deciding who gets to break it in with you.

[guiltyasdave]

paper rings

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~1.7k

summary: after two months with oberyn, you're not sure if his feelings are as strong as yours.

part of my modern!oberyn universe, takes place after delicate but can be read as a standalone too <3

warnings/tags: able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, angst, so much fluff, making out

a/n: written for @jolapeno's lovely dear-uary challenge, and if you think i'm late then you're wrong <3 thank you so so much for hosting, jo!

huuuuge thanks and kisses to @sizzlingcloudmentality for beta reading and encouraging me, ily!

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

Getting coffee, wait for me in bed ;)

The note sits on your kitchen counter when you shuffle into the room. Early morning sunlight is streaming through the window, warming the hardwood floor underneath your feet. 

Smiling to yourself, the note still clutched between your fingers, you retreat towards the bedroom and back under covers. The domesticity of it is sweet on your tongue, all warmth and honey. It’s all still so new, so fresh, butterflies alive in your stomach almost constantly. 

Your smile widens when you hear the apartment door open and close, footsteps that you can tell are kept more quiet than usual, in case you’re still asleep. You slip the note under your pillow when Oberyn steps into the room, a paper bag and two cups of coffee in his hands. His hair still mussed from the night’s sleep, his whole frame softer in the early hours. 

“Good morning, princess.”

His body smothers yours against the mattress when he joins you in bed again, your laugh coming out muffled against his lips. He alternates between feeding you kisses and sweet dough, covered in powdered sugar that he licks off the corners of your mouth. 

The note lands back between your fingers later when Oberyn has gone back to his own apartment. You decide to keep it, a reminder of the blissful morning you just had, kept safe in the top drawer of your desk. 

Had to go to work, call me when you get up.

Lunch later? :)

Have a great day today!

Don’t be nervous about the meeting, you’ll kill it!

There are leftovers in the fridge if you want them :)

You looked so beautiful this morning.

Had to run, I’ll text you later.

Can’t wait to see you tonight :)

You have no clue how Oberyn knows that it sends your heart flying every time you find a piece of paper with a message from him, either at your place or at his. But you love it. It’s so much sweeter than a text message, more tangible somehow, like he left a small part of himself with you.

You don’t tell him, but you keep every single one of them. It’s a little clingy, maybe. Not how you want to appear after just a couple of weeks of dating, especially not with a man like Oberyn, who you know could take a different person home every night, but who has somehow, inexplicably, chosen you. 

There has been no awkward what are we talk, thank God really, but— You do want to know what you are. If he feels as good with you as you do with him, if he thinks of you as much, if his smile widens when he talks about you too. If he talks about you at all. Surely he does, right? But what if he doesn’t? What if it’s just fun to him, something he enjoys right now, but not how he imagines his life long term? 

You’re around each other more often than not, one of you sleeping over at the other’s place most nights, and you really could get used to it. To the way he’s touching you constantly, not in a sexual or demanding way, just a warm, heavy reminder of his presence against your skin. You could get used to his jokes, to the way he makes you laugh, to the pull of his lips when he grins at you, to the crinkles around his eyes. To his quiet breathing beside you at night. To how safe he makes you feel. 

And you don’t tell him, but you are getting used to it. 

I had a great evening, thanks again for dinner! Call you later.

You leave the note taped onto his coffee maker, before heading out of his apartment and to work. You have an early meeting, one that you curse silently when you think back on how warm and soft you felt a mere hour ago, wrapped in bedsheets and Oberyn’s arms. 

Absentmindedly, you daydream about him waking up, making his way into the kitchen, his body still bare from the night. It’s a sight you’ll never, ever tire of. The golden skin, the lean strings of muscles rippling under his skin, the dark trail of hair leading down his stomach towards—

You stop dead in your tracks. The note. You drew a heart on the note. You’ve never done that, neither has he. Smileys, yes, but no hearts, no L words— 

But it’s probably fine. Not a big deal. You’re overreacting. It’s just a stupid doodle. You use heart emojis when you text after all, and so does he. Maybe you’ve become a little attached to the whole post-it thing, giving it way more weight than it merits, from a rational point of view. 

Still, you’re cautious when you call him later, but he sounds just like he always does. His voice purring into your ear as he tells you about his day, just as carefree and effortlessly charming as he always is. 

A few days later, you wake up to a note pasted to your fridge. A promise to be back in a few with coffee and croissants from your favorite place. With a little heart drawn into one corner. 

Weeks turn into one month, then two, and you still don’t know what to call this thing that you have with him. 

You almost slipped up a couple of days ago, talking on the phone with him on your lunch break and making plans for the weekend. You were just about to get back into the office building, saying your goodbyes, and your mouth moved faster than your mind, only catching yourself at the very last second. 

“Lov—” you had started to say, then bit your tongue hard when you realized the words it was forming. “Let’s talk later.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to reply, hanging up as quickly as humanly possible. You did not just almost tell him you loved him. Over the fucking phone, of all things. You don’t even know if you love him. Of course you don’t. It’s still way too early for that, right? Right? 

You just love spending time with him. Love how he looks at you, touches you, love the way you feel when you’re with him. But that’s it. A crush, nothing more. 

Things come to a head when you run into an old college friend on your way to dinner. When you introduce them and stumble over your words. 

“This is my—” Your what? Boyfriend? Crush? Situationship? Fuckbuddy? “This is Oberyn,” you settle on, and bravely ignore the quick look of pity she shoots you. 

“Pleasure,” Oberyn purrs, shaking her hand with his usual charming smile on full display, but it flickers off as soon as you keep walking. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly, a small crease forming between his brows. 

He’s unusually quiet through dinner, which makes you ramble to fill the silence, to try making yourself feel like everything is fine. Maybe he is getting bored. Maybe he’d rather spend his Friday night at the club, than listen to you recount your week. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask when you’re back home, leaning against the kitchen island and watching him pace around the room, his head bent, the crease on his forehead more pronounced now. You’re already bracing yourself. Maybe this is it, maybe this is how he’ll leave.

He stops in his tracks and looks up at you, seeming strangely lost, out of his depth. The fridge hums quietly in the corner, filling the silence that stretches on. Finally—

“Why do you only ever tell me the truth when you think I won’t hear it?” 

It’s not angry, not an accusation. Just— a question, like he genuinely doesn’t understand. 

Your hands drop to your sides. This is not what you had expected.

“What do you mean?” 

He takes a step closer to you, reaches for one of your hands, gently holds it in his palm. 

“You like me, don’t you? That is what you said.”

You think back on the very first morning with him. How similar you had felt back then. How the words had tumbled out of your mouth. I think I really like you. And his reply. I think I really like you too.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “I do.” 

“Then why are you scared?”

You avoid his eyes, training your glance on your hands, your intertwined fingers. Gently, his other hand finds your chin, tilting your head up. You melt under the soft, brown warmth of his eyes. 

“I’m not sure if you like me the same way.”

It comes out hushed, breathy. Words that you can’t take back, a weakness that you’re handing over to him. 

His expression softens, his hand traveling up from your chin to cradle your cheek. 

“I thought it was obvious.” He smiles, almost shy, if Oberyn was capable of looking shy. 

“It wasn’t,” you manage to mumble before he leans in, pressing his lips down on yours. Your fingers burrow into his hair, tugging him closer. His hands start roaming over your body, warmth sinking through your clothes and into your skin, anchoring you to him. 

You moan into his open mouth when he grabs your ass and pulls you into him. He nudges your cheek with his nose, prompting you to look at him.

“I make you feel good, don’t I?” he purrs, gently biting your earlobe. 

You moan again, louder this time. Your fingers dig into his shoulder. 

“You do.” 

“You know why that is?” 

His smile paints his voice, all soft and honeyed in your ear. 

“Because you like me?” 

It still creeps in, the tinge of doubt, but you already know it’ll be kissed away before you fall asleep with him by your side tonight. Oberyn nods, the beard on his jaw scratching lightly against your skin. You think you might be melting. 

“A whole fucking lot, princess.”

thank you so much for reading <3 reblog and comments are the best thing and make my day!

[lawyer-in-law]

Wow. I didn't know so many people liked my rambling on a 7 year old post. I didn't know it had even been read by more than two people until it showed up on my own feed. So, thank you :)

If anybody is interested, there are some further thoughts I have to this:

While I do sincerely believe this behavior is part of his personality, I think it was heavily exacerbated by the multiple traumas he experienced stacked on top of each other. In a way, I think letting other people call the shots in terms of relationships is a coping mechanism.

It seems to me, as a child, Phoenix was not popular. I don't necessarily think he was disliked, but he didn't seem to have any friends. It wasn't until the class trial that he ironically got any. I'm not 100% knowledgeable on all the nuances and minutiae but from my amateur understanding, not even Larry was his friend until the class trial (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong).

So I'm imagining little Phoenix having a lot of stuff happen to him within a very short time frame all within a few months. Little Phoenix with no friends gets blamed for a theft he didn't commit and is ostracized by his whole class. The one person who stands up for him ends up becoming such an insanely close friend that Phoenix would quit art school to become a lawyer for him. Not six months into their friendship, close friend inexplicably disappears from his life without reason or explanation.

What must little Phoenix be thinking? What is going through his mind? Does he feel abandoned? Does he blame himself for any of it? I can't imagine him feeling blameless knowing the everything we know about him.

So. Trauma. And definitely abandonment issues. Throughout the rest of his adolescence, I assume he never had a friendship with anyone to the degree he had with Edgeworth. Yeah, Larry and everything but I don't think Phoenix would've gone to law school for him.

And then Dahlia comes along and breaks what's barely holding together to a degree where I'm honestly surprised Phoenix can still function as a human being.

Phoenix and Miles' childhood friendship was instantaneous. Miles defends Phoenix, bam, Miles and Phoenix best friends in true childhood fashion.

Then, like it's fate, some girl falls into his lap and suddenly it's an instantaneous connection. A false connection, but obviously Phoenix doesn't know that. So with Dahlia he thinks he finds what he's been missing for so long and becomes obsessed because it's a high he's been looking for since Miles left.

Then Dahlia goes and reveals how much she'd been manipulating Phoenix and suddenly he's back to when Miles left. Abandoned. Confused. Hurt. And not fully understanding any of it cause it's too painful and too cruel and hits too many triggers.

So I think there's honestly a bit of a split between Phoenix's acquiescence in terms of before and after. In both phases, yes. Phoenix still lets people determine the parameters of the relationship in the beginning but it's much more open and raw in a "heart upon your sleeve" kind of way in hopes of getting friends. And then he gets hurt too much in too cruel of ways that he lets people choose their relationship with him not out of a desire for friendship but from a desire not to get hurt. As a defense.

If he doesn't choose how these relationships with others go, then he can blame himself less when it goes south. And having other people make their own boundaries means that he never has to give up his own. He lets people become his friends or assistants or what have you without ever sacrificing his own vulnerability. He may let people define the relationship, but having a relationship doesn't mean you can get anything from him. He's still closed off, evasive, and sometimes down right mean if it'll keep people at a safe enough distance.

In regards to Narumitsu, I won't repeat myself, but I would like to add that in conjunction with all the other fucked up shit Phoenix has had to deal with in his life, admitting his feelings to Edgeworth (or himself let's be fucking honest here), is so far down his list of priorities. Cause not only does he have all that past trauma, but he also has to live forever with the aftermath of Edgeworth's "suicide" where he was abandoned again and I really think he walks on eggshells around Edgeworth for that reason, why he represses all his love and therefore won't confess to the feelings he's subsequently in denial of.

Phoenix is great. I love him. I love picking his traumatized, fictional little brain. And I love rambling about things I should probably let go of. But he's just. So. Interesting!

the best running theme of Phoenix Wright is that he 100% just rolls with whatever relationship other people decide to have with him. His only girlfriend basically just walked up to him and said “you. we’re dating now and you love me very much” and he was like “yeah okay, lemme know if you have a sweater I can wear to really drive the point home.” The Fey sisters basically grabbed him and said “I guess you’re our brother now” and he was like “yeah sure do you have any family drama I could get involved in?” Even Trucy just sorta told him “hey you’re my dad” and he was like “Mm. Guess I’d better get a job, huh.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy’s in the middle). I wasn’t intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After you clean up the mess, you stay in your office. Bucky is stubborn. He's not going to run away. No, you hear him searching the house for what doesn't exist.

You finish the panels. You don't feel accomplished. You shut off your tablet but linger at your desk. You find some courage and get up.

You go into the kitchen quietly and do your best not to make noise. It doesn't matter, you know he can hear you. You take out the steak and rub some spice into it. It's easier than the marinade.

You set to quartering potatoes for a max, the starch sticking to your skin. You rinse off and check the green beans. They'll do.

"Is that your apology?" Bucky asks.

You dump the potatoes from the cutting board to the boiling water. You set the board down and face him. You frown.

"You really believe it?" You murmur.

"I don't know what to believe," he tilts his head, leaning on the door frame, a hand on his hip.

Your cheek twitches and you touch it, stilling the nervous tic. You repeal your hand and hide it behind you.

"I didn't. I know you know I'm telling the truth. You can hear it." 

He narrows his eyes, "maybe you didn't follow through, but you know, going out, flirting, it's all the same--"

"I wasn't flirting," you insist. "I'm not that type. Bucky," you set your feet. "Shouldn't I be mad you ignored my calls?"

"While I'm out there fighting off the bad guys? I can't always get to the phone," he struts across the kitchen.

"You could text me between all that," you insist.

"Got a lot on my mind when I'm out there. Now I'm gonna be worried about you and the bike jockey--"

"Really?" You grimace.

"I married you for a reason, didn't I? Why wouldn't another guy try it? Seeing you without your ring on..."

"I told you, I forgot."

"Yeah, forgot about me," he accuses.

You shake your head. You show your palms in exasperation and turn away. There's nothing you can say, nothing but what he wants to hear.

"I'm sorry about the rings. I really am. It wasn't on purpose but I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, I'm sorry I'm out of it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm... sorry I'm not good enough," You drop your arms and shrug. "I'm sorry I'm not patient or strong."

You turn your back to him and grab a wooden spoon to stir the potatoes. He sighs. It blows over you like a winter draft.

"I never said any of that--"

"You accused me of cheating," you tense. "You thought all of it."

"Christ, I'm trying to talk to you."

"Then say it, Bucky. Say what you want from me because I can't read your mind," you put the spoon down and grab the waiting skillet. "I haven't talked to you in over a month and I'm supposed to just act like nothing. I'm supposed to be okay." You slam the pan down, "I'm not okay."

"Baby--"

"Don't baby, me," you warn as you move down the counter to toss the beans in seasoning.

He nears and you go rigid. You ignore him as he gets close. He stretches his arm past you and grips the counter. He pushes himself against your back.

He nuzzles the back of your head, "I missed you. I really did. Can you blame me for getting... jealous? I got the greatest gal in the world waiting for me and I come back to see her with another guy--"

"I wasn't with him," you drone.

"Please, I'm sorry," he coaxes as his breath puffs over your scalp.

You inhale and stare at the wall, "for what?"

"For... for hurting you."

"How?" You rasp. "Tell me how you hurt me."

"Why are you doing this? I'm apologising," he clucks.

You frown, "alright, Bucky. I gotta finish up here."

He's quiet. He drags his hands off the counter and grips your hips. You wince and stop him, wavering on your feet.

"It's just nice to touch you," he growls.

"Bucky," you cringe as he kneads the extra flesh.

"You feel so good," he pushes against your ass.

"I can't. The potatoes," you shove his wrists.

"Let them burn," he slithers.

There's something there. That flicker inside. The one that wants him. It's dulled by the thought of him seeing you. The reality of what you've become. The idea of him seeing all of you makes you sick.

"That's..." you touch his hand. "Let me," you face him and force a smile. "Alright?"

"Baby, I wanna--"

"Shhh," you press a finger to his lips. His eyes flash. How can he look at you like that? Like you're not repulsive.

Because it's been a month. Because he's desperate. It's not you he wants, he just needs relief.

You slip your hand to his chest, your other along his pants. You taste pile as you unzip him. He shivers. You push your hand down his boxers and grip him. He squeezes your hip and grabs your head. He pulls you closer and presses his lips to your forehead.

He puffs as you stroke him. You stare at the top of his chest. 

It doesn't take long. He quakes and grunts, and spills inside his pants. It spears onto your fingers and palm. 

You pull your hand free as he cups your chin. He brings your head up and kisses you on the lips. You move your mouth with his, mimicking him, and he hums.

He parts and smiles. He pets your cheek and clears his throat as he backs away. You quickly turn away, your hand growing sticky.

"So, I'll finish dinner..." you say as you wash him off.

"I'm more concerned with dessert," he chuckles.

You wonder if he can hear your disgust. Not with him, but yourself. Can he sense your apathy even? Does he care? Why should he? He always gets what he wants.

[shuenkio]

益⁠—15 minutes I 제이

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Jay!idol X M!idol reader

𝖲𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌: Accident skin contact on stage can lead to something spicier? When he beg to—

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: Smut with plot. 𝖢𝖶: Smau.

𝖭𝗈𝗇 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 | 𝖤𝗇𝗀 is not my first

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

In the blink of an eye, The end of the year appears once again. And in this K-pop industry, wherein every year they'd celebrate, filled the stage with the groups. Yet with everyone's expectations, they'll always have collaboration stages with many groups and even duos from the same group too that spark the fans with thrilled and excited to see their performance.

With the start of the group called "Enhypen", it happened to have a collaboration stage too with the members — "M/n" and "Jay" the powerful duo which everyone didn't expect to have them on stage together, just the two them, two of the most talented members and underrated.

However that's not enough to make the supporters drool in excitement, one to another since the song that both of them are going to perform was "That Boy is mine" By Ariana grande. The fandom went insanely crazy to their own mankind when they learned that no female idol in this, with only M/n and Jay — Due to how small frame M/n was, Jay get to be the masculine role on stage— you know how it is ;)

Moving on to the stage, both of the members didn't know how their popularity was that great to have such a loud screaming and cheering from the crowd even the other fans are glowing like a red flame, burst their lung out to their limit, ruining their vocal dry— it's just them rehearsal.

It was marvelous, the way M/n express the lyrics by the dance steps, letting out his inner zesty taken over, didn't get to hesitate to do justice to the song's owner— his body are like jelly and flexible, carry on elegant moves which roughly pushing Jay on the verge to lose control right in fronts of the audiences who are enraptured, jumping happily such could cause earthquakes.

The moment the final note echoed into silence, the crowd exploded. Cheers and screams reverberated through the air, deafening, as if the entire universe had collapsed into that one breathless moment. Hands raised high, voices raw with joy—everyone was in awe. They were not just applauding, they were celebrating the impossible, the breathtaking, the unforgettable. It wasn’t just a performance. It was a triumph, and the world knew it. The best duo — M/n and Jay ending their performance with the pose of the latter's one limp up on Jay's hip, as Jay support it. On the other hand, belt M/n's waist with his powerful grips.

"you're a monster M/n, you earned yourself the greatest reward"

"How come— we did great don't just credit only I"

The duo exchange a small chatting, keep it steady in the pose, while waiting for the ending fairy and the live shooting to end.

Unbeknownst to M/n and the fans, the distance between them were too close that Jay's crotch brush again M/n's lower butt cloth— yet even M/n, himself didn't realize. He was catching an act, interact with the audiences. The taller compelled the sensation, flooded through him as their skin brushed lightly... closeness between them, making him feel a warmth he couldn’t ignore, underneath his leather pants, which is grown to something they could recognize instantly but Jay manages to unfold it.

"This has been ENHYPEN M/n And Jay— Thanks you"

///

"Please, Chaewoo, please let me fuck you. I need to be inside you so fucking badly."

He sits up slightly, yanking his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. His muscular chest is revealed, lean and defined, with small, dark nipples that are already stiff with arousal.

"Please, baby," Jay begs, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm going crazy thinking about splitting your tight little ass open on my huge cock. Please please I've been holding on for the past few weeks— please"

"I want to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll be feeling me for days. Please, M/n, let me fucking wreck you. I'm so fucking desperate for it."

Jay's hands slide down to your ass, kneading and squeezing the firm globes. He pulls them apart, exposing your tight, puckered hole underneath the fabric even more.

Seeing his eagerness to want it, you nod slightly, as a sign of giving him enough permission to fuck you right here, in the guest waiting room.

"We need to be quick— 15 minutes at ease Ah-" your eyes widen in surprise as he wraps his muscles arms around your hips and pulls you into a passionate, desperate kiss. He makes a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, his lips moving urgently against yours as the kiss deepens. His cock throbs and pulses between your legs, the massive, veiny shaft already leaking precum and soaking through his pants.

Jay practically tears your panties off without hesitation, in his haste to get to your ass, the flimsy fabric ripping away easily under his strength. He shoves his leather pants down just enough to free his huge, throbbing cock, and before you can blink, he's positioning the fat head at your entrance.

"Fuck, I can't wait," he growls, his voice strained with desperation.

"I need to be inside you, NOW."

With one brutal, powerful thrust, Jay slams his massive cock deep into your ass, splitting you open around his thick shaft. Yours breath began to be uneven, heaving and chasing for the right tempo—He's so big that he's halfway inside you before you even realize what's happening, your tight walls stretching obscenely to accommodate his girth.

"Oh FUCK!" Jay roars, his head thrown back, his face a mask of raw, primal ecstasy.

"So fucking tight, M/n. So fucking perfect."

He starts to move, his hips pumping furiously as he hilts himself fully inside you, with a pulsing visible on your lower belly. His heavy balls slap against your crook with each powerful thrust, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside your gripping heat.

"Take it, baby," he snarls, sweat dripping down his face as he fucks into you hard and fast. Tried hard with variety fucking position to get himself, bury deeper than the bottom of the ocean that turning you into a fucking toy— moaning out with lustful pleasure.

He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he rails your ring mascule ruthlessly. The pain mingles with the intense pleasure radiating from your core, the dual sensations driving you wild. Jay's unique musk invades your senses, his scent of sweat, arousal and pure, unchecked masculinity filling the air of the small space.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last long," Jay pants harshly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending climax.

"You feel too fucking good, M/n. I'm going to pump you so fucking full of cum, baby. Gonna fill this tight butt YUCK"

He flips you over onto your hands and knees, slamming back into your abused entrance from behind with even more force. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cockhead kissing your prostate with every brutal thrust. The headboard slams against the wall with the force of his fucking, the room filling with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your desperate moans.

As he chases his rapidly approaching orgasm. His muscular body is slick with sweat, the beads of moisture dripping down onto your back as he fucks into you with wild abandon

"Shit, Chaewoo... I can't... I'm gonna fucking..." Jay's words dissolve into a guttural roar as his orgasm finally overtakes him. His cock swells even thicker inside you, before exploding, painting your inner walls with thick, hot ropes of his pent-up seed.

"FUCK!" Jay bellows, slamming into you one last time, hilting himself as deep as possible as he rides out the intense waves of his climax. His cock pulses and jerks inside your ass, pumping you full of his heavy load, just as he promised.

"uehjhnummm f- fifteen .... Minutes...."

"Thank you for your collaboration my love"

"Fuck...it...💦"

XD

A/n: to my special anon asked— there are 2 more requests but I think I'll probably doing only one more :'( it's take a lot of work to make this but this one is my favorite for this time being, feedbacks are free.

[petersparkerrs]

back where we started

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: dark!joel x fem!reader

- summary: joel is a horrible partner post-outbreak. he yells. isn't too nice. fucks.

- warnings: dark!!! dubcon, slapping, choking, hair tugging, unprotected piv (don't do this guys!), smut smut smut smut, degrading, yelling, no established relationship, rough sex, crying, unsafe sex, angry sex, joel has crazy anger issues, blood, huggeee nasty age gap (legal, though! your choice for age), public / outdoor sex, size kink, joel's got a massive dick lols, power imbalance, submission, no aftercare, squirting, dirty talk, thigh riding if you squint, manhandling, joel is just incredibly mean. total asshole.

- word count: 4.5k

- author’s note: feining for mr joel miller recently so i wrote this... my first joel fic!! its gross yall. have your fun though!

—————————————୨ৎ

Partnering up with Joel Miller wasn’t ideal. He’s always looking at you like you’re some problem he doesn’t know how to solve – like you’re just cargo he’s exhausted of having to drag along. 

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s honestly an asshole. A real fucking dick, a mean bastard. To everyone else you meet, you’re a well loved, sweet girl. To Joel, though, you’re a burden. He’s a miserable person, and hanging around him only came with the positive that he knew how to hunt, how to keep you decently safe. But, hey, it’s better to be stuck with a brute of a man than to be infected. Right?

For whatever reason, the frustration has been building worse than usual for the past few days. You move like you’re on eggshells, do anything to not upset him, stay quiet when you’re asked and obey his every order. But it’s Joel fucking Miller. Nothing is ever enough with him. 

You’re young, but that's not a valid excuse for Joel. He expects as much out of you as he would another man his size and seniority, which is totally unfair of a girl your age.

So every little mistake ticks him off. Really riles him up. His temper is really fired up today for whatever reason, and you’re trying your best to not exacerbate it. 

—————————————୨ৎ

Joel should know now your most common flaws – he does pay attention, but that mind of his was too preoccupied with his fresh plan to head east to remember just how forgetful you tend to be. 

You remember twenty minutes after you leave. Everything is packed up, rifle on Joel’s thick shoulder, sleeping bags taken from Bill and Frank’s now deserted house strapped to your backs. Everything but one thing. And arguably, the most important thing for the new change of route. 

“Can y’get me out the map, girl?”

Girl. He always insists on calling you that. Rather derogatory, like he doesn’t wanna address you by a human name. Just girl.

At the question, your steps stutter. A little patch of dirt kicked up from your shoe hits the back of Joel’s calf, earning a soft grunt. “You fuckin’ deaf now? I said gimme the damn map.”

He knows what your silence means, and in that moment he's about to lose his goddamn mind. His feet stop bluntly, his large, brooding frame turning to face you. 

Your pace slows soon after him, halting to a nervous stop while your gaze flickers from its usual spot on the ground up into his dark eyes. A warning look.

“Better not tell me you lost the fuckin’ thing.” 

No words come out of your mouth, let alone even pop into your head; all you can seem to do is stare up at him like a mindless idiot, his height towering over yours when he takes a small step closer.

Again, your steps follow, this time backward. You stumble back half a foot, a twig cracking under the shift of your weight. Out of nervous habit, your left hand reaches for the right wrist, gently stroking the skin to keep yourself somewhat calm.

“Joel, I didn’t–”

His movements match your own, his large, calloused hands lurching forward to rip your hand off your wrist. It gets replaced with his own grip, but much tighter. Aggressive. Taut. Outraged. 

“Y’didn’t what? Didn’t think for once how t’not be a goddamned idiot?” He snarls, his untamed fingernails digging into the skin for a moment and leaving tiny crescents into the first layer. “Why d’you always gotta be like this, girl? Fuckin’ stupid…”

He trails off, removing his tight grip on your forearm, but not without hostility. He lets go but ends it with a good yank. Not hard enough to pop it out of place, but hard enough to get a quiet whimper out of your shy throat.

You never know what to say when he gets like this. Whether to defend yourself, whether to stay shut up and take the tirade. But you sure know well enough not to fight back – that’s how to get your arm pulled out of the socket.

“I–I swear, Joel. I had it, I don’t know where it went.”

He never takes your stupid excuses. They’re useless, he’ll never believe you. He knows that you know you forgot it at the last spot you camped out. And this time, the excuse was a pathetic mumble, your eyes glued at your wrist and the mark he left when he gripped it. Even more to make your pitiful case unconvincing. 

“Yeah, the hell you do. Quit lyin’, you know damn well where that map is.” He scoffs, brushing past you with a shove to the shoulder, his larger figure knocking you a few inches with a soft oof. “Back in the woods where you left it, ain’t it?”

Of course, you can’t plead your case anymore. You give in, nodding in submission and trudging after him once he turns around, back in the direction where you surely left the damn map. 

“...Yeah.” You murmur, rubbing a dry hand across the bottom half of your face, against your snotty nose. Not because you’d been crying, this is nothing from Joel yet. Just because the month has been terribly cold and sleeping outside every night isn’t doing you well. “At our last camp. M’sorry.”

“Always fuckin’ sorry. Sorry for almost gettin’ yourself killed, sorry for forgetting somethin’ again and again. M’sick of your shit.” He grunts, readjusting the rifle strapped over his shoulder. 

When you first met him, words like that got to you, as much as you hate to admit it. But now, everything seems to fade together. He’s just Joel. That’s how he is. And you’ve gotta live with it and try your best to not piss him off. 

To your luck, he shuts up and stops berating you – at least until you’re close to the previous camp spot. Just silence, interrupted only by the awkward shuffling of your steps behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his longer strides and stay quiet to not worsen his anger.

But when you get close enough and he has to start looking for the damned map, his mumbling and annoyance boils over once again, infiltrating the somewhat comfortable silence that your ears just got used to.

“Map was the only fuckin’ thing getting us around… no goddamn compass.” Joel mutters under his breath. Not at you, for once, but just a natural spilling of his frustration. He’s always gotta be mumbling about something, even in his sleep. “Slow me down enough as is. Gotta lose everythin’, too.”

You joined aimlessly behind him, searching around the patchy grass, anywhere for the map that was stressing him out so terribly. 

Minutes go by. He’s getting angrier by the minute, his hands flexing while he crouches down and searches. Mad, but still pretty tame for a pissed-off Joel Miller. 

That is, until he glances up and actually gets a look at you for the first time in an hour. He normally avoids any eye contact, avoids even peeking over at you. At that damn little frame… so much younger, sweeter. He seemingly hates having you around because you always tick him off, but what he hates more is the temptation that comes with having a pretty little girl by his side at all times.

He finally lets his eyes fall on you. But this time, he can’t even get his usual peek at your lips or neck, because something else catches his eye. A familiar shred of paper – just the fucking corner – poking out the zipper of your backpack. 

He genuinely slaps himself in the face, eyes turning dark and fists curling up in pure rage at the sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

He growls. Not a question, but a threat. His eyes are black at this point, breath speeding up while he takes another step toward you. Not cautious like he’ll sometimes let himself be, but warring. 

You’re confused for a bit, as you hadn’t seen the map in your own bag. Or even thought to look before you turned around and walked a half hour back, a complete waste of your time. “Oh…”

He starts again, his voice much lower than usual. Dangerous.

“You wanna tell me…” Joel breathes, stepping towards you even more until he’s got you backed against a tree. Bark pushing your shirt and jacket up, scraping at the bare skin of your lower back. “Why the hell we just wasted an hour of our time, when the map was practically right in your fuckin’ hand!”

As he curses, your heart drops. You don’t have time to react before his hands are up, flying at you. You flinch, thinking they’re coming to hurt you, but they’re reaching into your backpack. 

And sure enough, there it is. The map you spent so much valuable time fussing over. Right on your damn back. 

‘I didn’t know, Joel. Didn’t think to check.” You whimper and choke out from the back of your throat, weak and apologetic. Again, he’s not one for excuses and apologies. He’s on you before you can even think, hand forcing the map in your face.

His palm hits your mouth when he shoves the paper, a direct blow to your jaw. Your lip comes in forced contact with your bottom row of teeth, tearing the skin and swelling instantly. The only thing that can escape your mouth now is a pained whimper, which agitates the furious man on top of you worse. 

“Fuckin’ idiot. Wastin’ my damn time like always. Do you ever think?” He scoffs and backs up, maybe half an inch. 

When he notices your slightly busted lip, it brings him a sense of triumph. You ticked him off and now you’re gonna pay for it. And you sure enough feel guilty enough to not stop him, so he’s got you trapped now.

You’re frozen in place against the tree, refusing to move or utter out even the smallest of another noise. Suddenly, Joel’s mind is more occupied by the girl under his grip, shaking like a damn leaf with a bleeding and busted lip. 

“Asked you a question, little shit.” He grunts and lets his hand venture up to your jaw, pushing it around like a toy before settling with a tight grip, squeezing your cheeks and watching how the blood oozes from your lip at the pressure. “Said, do you ever fuckin’ think?”

Sure, he’s yelled at you plenty, disciplined you, maybe put his hands on you out of frustration a couple of times before. But it never feels like this. His hands usually let up after they land on you, but now he’s squeezing at your face and looking into your hazy eyes as if this is a challenge.

“Mm.” You whine, throat bobbing while you adjust to the feeling of his huge hand gripping your face. “N-no.” 

Your voice is only the softest of a mutter. 

“Speak up, girl. Didn’t hear ya’.” He rolls his eyes, giving your face a nice knead and jerking it to the side to jolt you up more. 

A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, head jerking to the right at the flick of his wrist. He holds it against the tree, your ponytail getting caught on the rough edge of the bark, the lumber scraping your ear.

“No. Don’t–don’t ever think enough. M’sorry. Wasn’t… wasn’t thinkin’.”

You sigh, head lifting up while you feel the familiar sensation of your throat tightening up, eyes starting to burn. But you keep it in. 

Joel hums, jerking your head again and shoving it harder onto the hard bark. “Damn right. Don’t think. A fuckin’ burden on me.”

He’s not doing it because he’s mad anymore. Hell, he’s already forgotten about the stupid map that caused all of this. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.

And you know that’s all he wants.

His gaze is different, his tone similar to but not matching the genuine anger you hear from him most of the time. There's a hint of more challenge in it, maybe even passion. The hand on your jaw only confirms that.

“Shoulda’ left you behind when I got the chance.” He mutters, knowing that threatening to leave you really gets under your skin. Honestly, he’s all that you have, and you’d be dead without him. So that always seems to hurt a little more than some name calling. 

You don’t react, gulping and keeping still at his arduous words. Getting no reaction from you riles him up worse, his free hand coming down to strike at the wood above your head. You flinch, and a tear unpromptedly rolls down your cheek. You don’t feel it until Joel curses, laughing in disbelief and moving his hand from your jaw down to your throat.

He squeezes. Not tight, not yet. A groan escapes his throat, low and almost pained. And before you know it, he’s got his body pressed against yours, rubbing you uncomfortably into the rotting tree. 

“Such a fuckin’ mess.” He grunts, one hand around your throat to cut off any words and the other moving to your chin to move your gaze up to him. “Cryin’ like a baby when you were the one that lost the map.” 

Your pulse jumps when he degrades you, and he swears he sees something else in your eyes this time. Not the usual fear, but something that looks like arousal. 

It sparks something in him, and he wants to see it again. His hand tightens on your neck, earning a pained gasp from your pretty throat. Your eyes lock, and he watches your head tilt back against the tree, your eyes fluttering slightly.

He can’t take much more. A tiny whimper comes out of you when his knee presses against your thigh. 

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Joel growls. Low. Frustrated. He gives up on the choking, instead gripping the back of your head and taking hold of your messy ponytail. He tugs, tilting your head more, his big aquiline nose moving down to bump under your ear and rub along the cold curve of your jaw. 

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” He whispers, his unkempt scruff that he calls a beard brushing up against you, scratching deep into the skin he just had a hand wrapped around. “Feel you gettin’ turned on. Fuckin’ slut, getting all worked up when I’m angry with you.”

You can’t do anything but take his advances and cry softly, feeling the cotton of your panties dampening each time his gruff voice comes out against your ear, his harsh breath biting at your neck. 

“Don’t got time for th’shit.” He mutters, but you hear his resolve dropping. He’s getting less and less frustrated over you wasting time, but more frustrated over the fact that he’s got his knee between your legs and he can feel the heat seeping through the fabrics, even in the biting cold weather. “Don’t got time for you makin’ me… makin’ me–ngh.”

His words stop, replaced by a low grunt into your ear the second your body even twitches against his. The grip on your ponytail tightens, tugging backward and earning a needy whine from you.

As much as he wants to keep degrading you, making you feel worthless under him, he’s feeling pretty pathetic himself. And he never gets like this with women.

His nose bumps your ear one more time before he can’t take it – his lips crash into yours. It’s not friendly. It’s not intimate. It’s fucking rude.

He intrudes, letting go of your hair and grabbing your body instead to push you against the damn tree harder. Mouths battle, and he wins, nipping hard and tasting the metallic blood from where he busted your lip earlier. Yum. 

“Joel.” You whimper, finally. It’s music to his ears, but he can’t show that. He has to be tough, not show that he’s into this. Not into the young girl he’s supposed to be training.

Joel grumbles, bringing a hand up to mindlessly slap at the side of your face at the sound of your whimper. 

“Shut up.”

And you do.

You’d do anything he told you right now. The feeling of him slapping you, biting your lips, pressing his thick knee between your thighs has got you absolutely pathetic. It’s fucking disgusting, you know that. To be so grossly into the fifty-six year old man that’s been taking care of you, the one that relentlessly bullies you and makes you feel like a worthless burden.

But you like it. You’d be anything for him, even if it meant being a worthless, pathetic burden. 

Joel’s got control. Obviously. His hand that slapped you runs over the heated skin in the same spot, almost to soothe it. What a gentleman. His lips slow on yours for a moment, latching onto the neck he had his hand around earlier instead.

In the deep woods, the only sounds heard are the birds above and his angry gasps against your skin, breathing like a madman. The softer sounds are interrupted by one of his belt clinking, being unbuckled mindlessly. And then the rustle of fabric. And then the unfamiliar sound of denim against Joel’s rough skin.

He’s straining against his boxers. Hard. Harder than he thinks he may ever have, but you don’t know that. You can tell he’s big through the fabric. It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind maybe once or twice, but you would never have expected for it to be pressed against your thigh, dangerous amounts of precum slowly leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs. 

You distract yourself while he gets busy attacking your neck and working your pants off – you don’t wanna believe it. Joel Miller is about to fuck you. He slapped you, choked you, degraded you, sure. That’s believable. But now he’s going to fuck you with that giant cock of his. 

As if it helps you not give in too much, you look everywhere to try and distract yourself. Down. His boxers read CALVIN KLEIN at the top. Up. The top button of his flannel came undone. He’s got a lot of chest hair. Behind him. There’s a bird watching him gnaw at your neck and tear your pants off, watching his bulging cock rub against your covered thigh. 

And the map is on the ground behind him.

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” He finally interrupts your private session of ‘I spy,’ breathing heavy against your skin and cupping your clothed cunt through your panties. “Look at me.”

You look up, gaze locking with his again. His eyes are equally as dark, but not with anger anymore. Desire. 

He’s gripping extra hard, hands splayed across your waist – almost big enough to wrap around, to grip you real good. Joel’s eyes travel all down your body in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, your pants torn down and now discarded on the forest floor. 

“Gonna fuck the stupidity right outchya’, yeah?” He chuckles, hoisting your body up to keep you settled between him and the tree. “‘N I want you lookin’ at me while I do it, kay’, girl? Eyes up. C’mon now.”

You can do nothing but oblige. Your eyes dart up, staying on him, even when he pulls his cock out that you so badly want to get a look at. The sound of him stroking himself, little grunts escaping his throat mindlessly, is so fucking tempting. 

But you listen, eyes staying on him, hoping to get some kind of praise from him for the first time in your life. Or maybe you want to keep getting debased. Maybe both. You seem to like the shame of it. 

“Gonna fuck you s’good you never forget anythin’ again. M’still pissed about that map, y’hear me?” He grunts, lifting you effortlessly to move his cock up into place. He’s so strong, and you’re so little. He can manhandle you however he wants, use you for his pleasure. And maybe you want that. 

From your mouth slips an obedient hum, your head shaking in a little nod so he knows you’re listening. You swear you see the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, but he replaces it within half a second with a grumble to maintain the tough guy look. 

His cock meets your slick after he pulls your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. You’re not worth the time. Not after wasting that time with the map debacle. 

The pulsing head of it drags along your slit, collecting a bit of you on the tip, making a filthy mix with his precum. It’s been a minute since any intimacy for Joel, but he can’t let you know anything. Can’t show any kind of vulnerability. He keeps it in, biting his lip and grunting to avoid any embarrassing soft noises.

“Ain’t stoppin’ if you can’t take it, by th’way.” He grumbles into your ear, his tip just barely edging into your soaked cunt. You whimper, and he squeezes your waist in warning. If he didn’t have to be holding you up, he’d have hit you again. 

But, the soft noises you let out make him want more. You seem to let them out when you’re scared – or maybe it's out of arousal. Only from when he totally degrades you. He doesn’t care, he just wants to fuck you senseless.

“Could break ya’ if I wanted. Little… tight fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, head hitting the tree next to yours when his cock finally slides in. It was a fight to get in, your tight walls not stretched enough for his fat dick to fit due to your lack of experience. “Take ya’ how I fuckin’ want.’

If this was any other man, you’d cry and beg for him to stop. But Joel. It’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. 

It hurts, but his threatening words seem to egg you on. They prod you to take it, try harder to take the thick cock that’s splitting your body right in half.

He doesn’t start slow like some guys. Joel doesn’t start slow. Ever. Joel Miller fucks, and he fucks how he wants. This isn’t about you, this is about him getting his worth back after you wasted all his damn time. 

His hips slam into you at an alarming pace, no time for you to stretch out and adjust to the movement. He’s already hitting deep enough to where, if your shirt was off, you could see the print all the way in your stomach. But no. Your shirt is on. Joel Miller doesn’t care enough to worry about a shirt, that’s foolish. He just wants pussy – no, needs it. He’s a man with priorities. 

You’re screaming, pain and pleasure. Usually he’d tell a woman to ‘shut the fuck’ up for being too loud, but you’re in the middle of the woods. Nobody around, except for the same fucking bird that’s continuing to watch you get destroyed and ripped open by a fifty-six year old. Great.

“God, baby. You’re fuckin’ helpless.” He grunts into your neck, resolve slowly slipping more. His noises get worse, louder. He doesn’t care enough anymore to pretend like this is some chore. 

He’s fucking you and he means it. 

Joel’s hips stutter after a few minutes, just in time with your own. Synced up perfectly. His rhythm is getting out of pace while you feel the pull deep in your core you haven’t felt in so long – white hot pooling in your stomach. You clench around him.

He can’t speak anymore, just like how you haven’t been able to for minutes now. All he can manage out are little grumbles into your hair, squeezing your body while he struggles with words. Getting pathetic himself.

“Fuckin’-- mm. Baby. Baby. Gon’cum soon.” 

At least he warns you. 

You could tell, anyway. The stuttering of his hips, the way he’s only hitting nice and deep now. But you’re in worse, you can’t warn him because your mouth is hung open entirely, spilling out the most pitiful string of moans that doesn’t seem to ever end. 

Without warning, you clench again. He groans, but gets louder when he feels you spill. Burst. All over his aching cock. 

“Shit, shit. You – you squirtin’?” Joel grumbles out, body spasming at the feeling of your liquids all coming out at once. Your legs are shaking, and he feels his own limbs join in. It was too much for him. 

He cums. Hard. Maybe harder than he ever has before, but you don’t have to find that bit out. 

The moment melts into a disgusting mess of simultaneous moans, whimpers, even from Joel. Despite the cold weather that was almost making you sick earlier, you feel hot. Sweaty. Both of  you.

Joel’s head comes to rest atop yours, stroking the back of your ponytail that he’d been tugging at the whole time. And for a moment – just a short moment – you thought he’d maybe take care of you after. Like a real man. 

But no. Apparently, you don’t know Joel well enough by now. He’s his own kind of man.

Once his breathing returns – somewhat – he’s back to ole’ Joel Miller. Grunts, huffs and drops you down by the tree. Tucks his spent cock back in. Before you know it, before you can speak, his pants and belt are back in place and his rifle is strapped back on his shoulder.

Your eyes shut, back scraped up from the rough tree he fucked you relentlessly against. Taking a shuddering breath, you rest for a moment, thinking that if he didn't give you any aftercare he’d at least let you have a moment to breathe. 

But again, no.

“Fuck you doin’?” 

Your single moment of silence is rudely interrupted by his southern drawl, entirely back to normal as if he didn’t have the most intense sex of his life only two minutes ago. As if forgetting it ever happened. 

And the map is back in his hand. And he looks so normal compared to you. And it makes you want to cry for whatever reason. 

There’s nothing else to do but hold back a pained whine from the soreness already building in your body, the blood you feel dripping on your back from the tree, and the metal taste of blood where he hit your lip. The slap on your cheek. The handprint on your throat. Fuck.

“C’mon, little shit. Gotta hurry. Now you wasted an hour of my time.”

[skiesuconn]

Lost in Argentina | Chapter 1

Pairing: Paige Buecker | Azzi Fudd WC: 12K Synopsis: The UConn women’s basketball team lands in Argentina for a training camp, but the real adventure? Paige’s last-minute packing disaster, Azzi’s snack obsession, and the endless chaos that follows. Between running from a rogue dog, getting locked in elevators, and arguing over coconut water, their Argentina trip becomes a mess—but in the best way. As the heat rises, so does the tension between Paige and Azzi, who are already more than just teammates. With every teasing remark and stolen moment, their bond deepens. It’s less about the training and more about finding love, laughter, and a little bit of chaos under the Argentine sun. Frankie's note: Appreciate the blurb idea! I definitely switched things up a bit, but still, big thanks. Credits to this blurb for the inspo. I love you anon. Let me know your thoughts loves, and yes, I'm aware that my masterlist is messy. i'll rework it this weekend.

The UConn women’s basketball team had been buzzing about this Argentina trip for weeks. It wasn’t just another overseas training camp—it was a chance to experience a new culture, eat amazing food, and bond as a team. Geno had called it a "learning opportunity," CD had called it a "chance to grow," and the players? They mostly saw it as an escape from Storrs' freezing winter.

Packing had been an adventure in itself. Paige, ever the last-minute packer, had thrown a chaotic mix of hoodies, basketball shorts, and an unnecessary amount of socks into her suitcase the night before. Azzi, on the other hand, had meticulously packed a separate bag just for snacks, because "you never know when you'll need fuel." Nika had insisted on bringing her own pillow, claiming it was the key to good sleep, and Caroline had made sure to bring an extra pair of sneakers in case of emergencies.

Now, stepping off the plane and into the scorching heat of Argentina, the contrast to Connecticut’s icy winds hit them like a wave. The sun bore down on them, a dry warmth wrapping around their skin like a thick blanket. Sweat began to bead at their temples almost instantly.

"Holy—it's like an oven out here!" Caroline groaned, fanning herself with her boarding pass.

"Bro we just escaped winter'' Aubrey exclaimed, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Welcome to my life," Nika said smugly, stretching her arms above her head. "This is nothing. Croatia in the summer? So muchh worse."

Aaliyah wiped her forehead. "How do you even function in this?"

"You adapt," Nika shrugged. "Or you melt. Your choice."

As they waited for the van, Paige pulled at the collar of her white thermal shirt, regretting her outfit choice. It clung to her lightly toned frame, her usual confident stance faltering as beads of sweat slid down her temple.

"Bro, why did I wear long sleeves?" she muttered.

Azzi, standing beside her, her mahogany-colored bodycon dress hugging every line of her figure, looked up from her coconut water with a small smirk. "Because you're bad at planning?"

Paige’s gaze flickered over Azzi, her jewelry glinting under the sun, her soft curls shifting with the warm breeze. "That’s bold coming from someone who packed an entire bag just for snacks," Paige shot back, eyeing Azzi’s tote full of protein bars and neatly stacked fruit containers.

"It’s called being prepared. Unlike you," Azzi replied smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, her lips glistening slightly.

"Get a room," Nika chimed in, grinning. Paige shot her a glare, but her cheeks tinged slightly pink.

A commotion near the curb caught their attention. A small dog had somehow wriggled out of its owner’s grasp and was now zipping between people’s legs. Caroline took a startled step back, nearly knocking over Aaliyah. Aubrey, laughing, reached down to try and help the frantic owner, only for the dog to dart between her legs and send her stumbling forward. The entire team burst into laughter as Aubrey caught herself just in time.

"Yo, we’ve been here for five minutes, and we're already causing problems," Paige said, shaking her head.

"We? It's all you, P" Aaliyah corrected with a smirk.

Finally, their van pulled up, and they gathered their things. The inside was blissfully air-conditioned, the seats plush and comfortable. Geno slid into his spot near the front with a tired sigh.

"Alright, listen up," he started. "Don’t act like idiots, don’t get lost, and for the love of God, don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

"So basically, don’t be Paige?" Nika quipped.

"Exactly," Geno deadpanned.

The team erupted in laughter as Paige held a hand to her chest, feigning offense.

"Damn, y’all turning on me already? We haven’t even checked in yet!" Paige pouted.

"Oh, we’ve been turned," Aubrey teased, elbowing her.

The van ride was filled with chatter, jokes, and a couple of loud gasps when the driver nearly grazed a motorcyclist in traffic. By the time they arrived at the hotel, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The building itself was sleek and modern, its towering glass windows reflecting the city lights.

Inside, the air-conditioning was heavenly. The lobby was decorated with polished marble floors, plush chairs, and a massive chandelier that hung like a centerpiece, scattering light in delicate patterns across the ceiling.

A staff member approached with welcome drinks, small fruit-infused waters. Paige took a sip and immediately frowned. "Why does this taste… healthy?"

Azzi took hers without complaint, giving Paige a pointed look. "Because it is."

The team flopped onto the lobby couches, exhausted but still buzzing with energy. Paige took the opportunity to poke at Azzi’s arm. "Hey. You happy now that you got your coconut water?"

Azzi side-eyed her but nodded. "Very."

"Tragic. No Shirley Temples," Paige lamented dramatically. "And no Gatorade. What kind of establishment is this?"

"One that has coconut water," Azzi teased, taking another sip just to taunt her.

At the elevator, Paige dramatically insisted on being the one to press the button. She kept missing, hitting every floor except the one they needed. "Okay, okay, I got it now," she muttered before accidentally hitting the emergency stop.

The elevator jolted, and everyone screamed.

"PAIGE!" Nika yelled.

"SHIT, MY BAD" Paige yelped, frantically pressing more buttons. "This is why I don’t do responsibility!"

The doors finally opened, and the team stumbled out, some laughing, some shaking their heads. In their distraction, Paige and Azzi nearly entered the wrong room—536 instead of 535.

"Uh, I don’t think this is our room," Azzi mumbled, eyeing the door.

Just as Paige was about to argue, the door to 536 cracked open, revealing a confused businessman in a robe. "Can I help you?"

Paige threw up her hands. "Shit, wrong place"

Azzi tugged her away, barely holding back a laugh. "You're a natural, really"

Inside their actual suite, the view of the city stretched before them, lights twinkling in the distance. The suite was stunning—big windows, a sleek kitchen, a minibar stocked with weirdly expensive snacks, a large bathroom with a walk-in shower, and a balcony perfect for lounging.

Aubrey turned on the TV and was immediately met with an overly dramatic Spanish soap opera. The entire team stared at the screen as a woman slapped a man across the face, screaming something in rapid Spanish.

"This is already the best thing I’ve seen all trip," Nika declared, grabbing a seat.

"Yo, why are they all so stressed" Aaliyah added, squinting at the screen.

Aubrey rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I’d rather watch IG reels than watch someone dramatically fall down a staircase for five minutes."

"You have no culture," Paige sighed, shaking her head.

Azzi left for the bathroom as the team continued to bicker about whether or not the soap opera was a masterpiece. Paige stretched out on the bed, watching Azzi disappear with an amused smirk.

"That’s what I thought," she whispered to herself, her lips curving into a satisfied grin as she watched Azzi walk away, hips swaying just enough to make Paige rethink her definition of self-control.

The room had quieted after the flurry of activity, now just a soft hum of energy lingering in the air. Aubs, Lili and Nika had already finished getting ready and left the suite, leaving Azzi and Paige alone to finish their ''preparations''.

Azzi was still in front of the mirror, brushing through her tangled curls, the soft brush gliding through her hair as she pulled it into a messy bun. Her fingers worked carefully, but her mind wandered. She could feel Paige’s eyes on her even though she wasn’t looking. That feeling—warmth spreading over her skin—made her hands tremble slightly. Focus, Azzi, she told herself, but it was hard to ignore the way Paige’s presence made her pulse race.

The sound of the shower running stopped, and Paige finally emerged, the familiar scent of her body wash trailing in her wake. Her hair was still damp, a towel wrapped around her waist. Azzi caught herself staring for a moment, her eyes flicking quickly to the floor. Get it together, she thought, but her heart was already beating faster.

As Paige crossed the room, Azzi didn’t even notice she’d gotten so close until she felt warm breath on her neck.

Paige’s lips brushed her skin in a slow, lingering kiss. “You look too damn good right now,” she whispered, voice low and teasing. Azzi gasped, a soft tremor running through her body. She froze, brushing the thoughts of the outfit aside.

“Paige,” she whispered sharply, but there was no heat in her voice—just the familiar mix of teasing and slight panic. “Stop, we don’t have much time.”

Paige only smirked, her lips barely grazing the side of Azzi’s neck before she leaned in further. “I know, but you make it hard not to want to do…this.” She took her time, as though savoring every moment, letting Azzi feel every inch of her teasing touch.

Azzi let out a small laugh, but it was breathy, uncertain. Why does she always do this to me? she thought, pushing herself to turn around, her eyes locking with Paige’s.

Before she could react, Paige swept her into her arms with surprising ease, lifting her by the ass and dropping her onto the bed with a light thud. Azzi’s breath hitched, an involuntary laugh escaping her lips as she landed in Paige’s lap.

“See? Told you. You make this whole getting ready thing impossible,” Paige teased, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispered something so cheesy it made Azzi roll her eyes.

“I swear, Paige,” Azzi said, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. “We need to wait until after dinner, we can't do this right now” she added with a playful tone, though her voice faltered slightly.

Paige grinned, but reluctantly pulled away. “Okay beautiful, I'll be patient.” she said, but the mischief in her eyes told Azzi it wouldn’t last long.

As Azzi stood up, Paige’s hand landed on her ass with a playful smack that made Azzi jump slightly. She turned back to face Paige, feigning shock. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige answered with a shrug, her smirk only growing. “What? You like it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, turning back to pick her outfit for the evening. She chose a silk, creamy white skirt that fell elegantly to her ankles. The fabric shimmered in the light, giving off a luxurious feel. She paired it with a corset-style crop top that showcased just the right amount of skin. The back of the top revealed her smooth, athletic back, making her feel bold and confident as she slipped into the black sandals.

But Paige—being, well, Paige—wasn’t going to let it slide that easily. She crossed the room to Azzi, unable to resist. Before Azzi even realized what was happening, Paige kissed her deeply, pulling her in with the force of a storm. Azzi melted into the kiss, a sigh escaping her lips as she felt herself become weak under the heat of it.

Azzi pulled back, breathless but smirking. “You need to get dressed too,” she said, though her voice was softer, filled with something Azzi didn’t quite know how to name.

Paige pouted dramatically. “Can’t I just wear my bathrobe?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the sudden flurry of emotions. “Hurry up, Paige,” she said, voice just a little breathy, but not enough to give herself away.

Paige sighed, but eventually grabbed her clothes. She slipped on a soft, creamy white knitted button-up and matching shorts that looked effortless but still cute. Her white sneakers completed the look, and Azzi couldn’t help but stare, her gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary. Focus, Azzi, she reminded herself, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Do you like?” Paige asked, noticing the way Azzi’s eyes had gone soft.

Azzi didn’t answer immediately. Her heart beat harder in her chest, and she bit her lip, trying to hide the way her body was betraying her. “Yeah,” she said, though her voice was barely above a whisper. She turned away to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks, but it didn’t work.

Paige grinned, but then she did something Azzi wasn’t expecting. She picked up the infinity necklace she’d given Azzi and placed it gently in her hands. “Put this on,” Paige said quietly.

Azzi hesitated, but then she nodded, feeling the warmth of Paige’s hands still on the necklace before she moved to sit on the stool. She could feel Paige’s eyes on her, and her skin tingled. As she put the necklace on, Paige spritzed some cologne into the air, the scent filling the room as she headed to the bathroom.

When Paige returned, she caught sight of Azzi wearing the necklace, her eyes softening. “You look beautiful,” she whispered, her voice low and sincere.

Azzi smiled shyly, her heart fluttering at the words. But then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she teased, “Now, put on some rings.”

Paige groaned dramatically but indulged her, slipping the silver rings onto her fingers. Azzi, without saying a word, took her hand and started playing with Paige’s fingers. The soft touch sent shivers up Paige’s spine, and she found herself struggling to keep her cool. Focus. Just a few more minutes.

Azzi stopped playing with Paige’s fingers and eyed them for a moment. “You’ve been biting your nails again, haven’t you?” she asked knowingly, her tone light but playful.

Paige froze, not expecting Azzi to notice. “Uh, stress,” she muttered quickly, but Azzi was having none of it.

After a moment of quiet, Azzi’s lips curled into a smile. She kissed Paige’s cheek lightly, her touch almost making Paige forget what they were doing. “We need to hurry,” Azzi said, the softness of her voice sending a shiver through Paige’s body.

As they finally got ready to leave, the playful tension between them felt like it was about to boil over. Azzi was already heading toward the door when Paige reached out and grabbed her arm, halting her in place.

“Wait,” Paige said, her tone mischievous. Azzi raised an eyebrow, confused.

Paige glanced over her shoulder at a group of teenage boys standing just behind them. “You’re not going in yet,” she said, almost too seriously for how playful she was trying to sound. “Let them go first.”

Azzi blinked, still not fully understanding. “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning back to the boys who were oblivious to the conversation.

Paige leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Trust me,” she said. “I don’t want them looking at you like that.”

Azzi’s heart skipped, and she could feel the warmth spread across her face. She tried to laugh it off. “You’re such a dork,” she said affectionately, though the flutter in her stomach gave her away.

Paige puffed out her chest like a dramatic superhero. “What? I got my spidey senses”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Spiderman, I’ll let you do your thing,” she said, stepping back to let the boys take the elevator first.

As the elevator doors opened and the boys filed in, Paige turned to Azzi, her grin wide and devilish. “Besides,” she said, her voice teasing, “it’s just a good excuse to be this close to you.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. She loved how Paige could always turn any situation into something playful. “You’re so cheesy,” Azzi said, but her smile said everything Paige needed to hear.

As Azzi stepped inside, she felt the weight of Paige’s eyes on her, burning through every exposed inch of skin like a slow, deliberate caress. A blush crept across her cheeks, but she didn’t shy away. Instead, she lifted her chin, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched Paige—who was, quite literally, devouring her with her gaze.

Paige let out a low whistle, dragging her eyes over Azzi’s outfit, lingering shamelessly on the sloping curve of her back, the delicate dip of her waist, the way her silk skirt clung just enough before flowing down. She bit her lip, tilting her head as if she were truly contemplating something profound.

“You're sweet,” Paige said, grinning wide, but her voice had that low, rough edge that made Azzi’s stomach tighten.

Azzi hummed, stepping into Paige’s space, close enough that their noses brushed, her smile widening when she felt Paige suck in a quiet breath. Their eye contact was molten—charged, teasing, but something softer lingered underneath it, something that made Azzi feel like she was being seen in a way no one else had ever managed before.

Paige’s fingers found their way to Azzi’s sides, rubbing small, slow circles, her touch feather-light but sending a ripple of heat up Azzi’s spine. She leaned in further, breath warm against Azzi’s cheek, her voice turning into something that dripped sin.

"And so sexy."

Her hands slipped lower, barely grazing the soft fabric of Azzi’s skirt.

"Completely hot for me."

Azzi bit her lip, eyes half-lidded as she tilted her head just slightly, watching the way Paige’s gaze flickered from her lips to her throat and back up again.

"Oh, and did I forget to mention that you're sexy?" Paige murmured, her grin sharp, predatory.

Azzi, already feeling the warmth bloom over her skin, turned around just to glare at her—but the playful smile tugging at her lips gave her away. "You're so self-assured, it's almost too cute."

Paige smirked, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Oh, I know. I get that a lot.” She winked, sauntering after Azzi into the elevator like she hadn’t just made the temperature in the room rise ten degrees.

Azzi shook her head, trying to compose herself, but it was impossible—not when Paige followed her inside and casually leaned against the elevator wall like she hadn’t just spent the past two minutes lighting her on fire. The doors slid shut, and suddenly, it was just the two of them, the soft hum of the elevator the only thing breaking the thick silence between them.

Paige sidled closer, their shoulders brushing. Her fingers found their way to Azzi’s waist again, this time pressing with just a little more intention. “Seriously though,” she murmured, her voice still teasing but tinged with something deeper, “how do you manage to make a simple silk skirt look like it belongs on a runway?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes. “It’s called having good taste.” She tried to sound unaffected, but her pulse betrayed her, hammering against her ribs.

Paige raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. “Oh, so it’s not because you’re a goddess in disguise?” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Guess I’ll have to start calling you ‘Divine.’”

Azzi snorted, covering her mouth in a failed attempt to hide her laughter. “Did KK tell you to say that one?”

Paige grinned. “Maybe”

And then Paige did something—something that shattered the teasing, the pretense, the space between them. She lifted a hand, brushing a loose curl away from Azzi’s face, her touch slow, deliberate. Her fingers lingered just beneath Azzi’s ear, tilting her chin up slightly. The moment stretched, the air in the elevator crackling, until Paige finally leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft at first—just a press of lips, the kind that whispered a thousand unsaid things. But then Azzi made a small, breathless sound, and Paige deepened it instantly, her hand slipping to cup the back of Azzi’s neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Azzi melted into her, her hands fisting the fabric of Paige’s shirt, pulling her in. Paige tasted like warmth and something faintly sweet, and Azzi swore she could feel her smirk against her lips when Paige bit down, just enough to make her shiver.

The elevator dinged, snapping them out of their daze, but neither of them moved for a second. Paige’s lips hovered over Azzi’s, her breath a little uneven, her pupils blown wide.

“Well, damn,” Paige finally murmured, looking dazed and way too pleased with herself. “That was… something.”

Azzi swallowed, trying to collect herself. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her flushed cheeks betrayed her.

The doors slid open, and before they could step out, a familiar voice cut through the moment.

“Look who’s finally here,” Aubrey called, arms crossed, her signature smirk firmly in place. “Took you long enough.”

Azzi groaned, covering her face with one hand. “We were just waiting for the elevator to clear out.”

Paige, still high off the moment, turned to Aubrey with a cocky grin. “Yeah, we were just being… considerate.” She waggled her eyebrows, crossing her arms like a proud little peacock. “Didn’t want to make a scene.”

Aubrey arched a brow, unimpressed. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Paige took Azzi’s hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging her toward the waiting Uber. As they climbed into the car, Paige greeted the driver with an over-exaggerated Spanish accent that made Azzi close her eyes and let out a deep, suffering sigh.

“Por favor, Paige,” Azzi muttered under her breath, covering her face.

Paige just laughed, reaching over to squeeze Azzi’s thigh. “What? I’m trying, okay?”

Azzi huffed but couldn’t hide her smile. “Better not talk the rest of the ride.”

Paige leaned in, voice dropping into a lower, silkier tone. “Oh, I’ll be quiet.” Her fingers trailed absently over Azzi’s knee, up her thigh. “But just so you know, I’ll be thinking very loud things.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, turning to look at her, meeting her gaze with something equally unreadable and heated. “Be patient,” she murmured, her voice smooth and full of promise.

Paige’s eyes darkened, her grip tightening just slightly.

As the Uber pulled away, the air between them remained thick with anticipation, every small touch and glance charged with what was to come.

--

As the Uber ride came to a close, the atmosphere inside the car felt strangely calm, but also electric, as if both Paige and Azzi knew something was brewing. Paige fidgeted in her seat, trying to come up with something clever to say. Her failed attempt to thank the driver in Spanish was met with an awkward chuckle from Azzi, who was doing her best to hide her grin.

“Uh, gracias mucho?” Paige said, her accent more like a bad impersonation than anything else.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh, her voice dripping with amusement. "You are so bad at this."

The driver smiled kindly, barely suppressing his own laughter. "De nada."

Azzi grabbed Paige’s hand, tugging her out of the car. The touch was casual, but the way her fingers lingered against Paige’s palm sent a slow burn through her veins. "Come on, let’s get inside before you offend anyone else," she muttered under her breath, still laughing at Paige's Spanish mishap.

As they approached the entrance of the restaurant, Aubrey was already waiting outside, her black jacket gleaming under the streetlights. She turned, giving them a once-over with a smirk plastered on her face. “Took you two long enough. What were you doing? Making out in the backseat?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but Azzi just shook her head, a soft blush creeping up her neck. She squeezed Paige’s hand again, tighter this time, almost like a warning. "We were just…talking," Azzi said, her voice soft but amused.

Talking. Sure.

They turned toward the restaurant, a fancy Argentinian place with grand windows that let the soft glow of golden light spill out onto the sidewalk. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sizzling meat and spices, the rhythm of tango music humming faintly in the background. It was romantic, charged, the kind of place where secrets slipped out between sips of red wine and stolen glances.

Inside, the restaurant felt like something out of a film. The dark wood of the furniture contrasted with the warm, amber lighting, creating a cozy yet sophisticated ambiance. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, their crystals reflecting the soft light and casting delicate patterns on the polished floors. The low murmur of conversation filled the space, punctuated by laughter, by the clinking of silverware against fine china.

Azzi adjusted the hem of her skirt, the smooth fabric hugging her hips in a way that made Paige's breath hitch. The movement was subtle, but deliberate, as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Her toned legs caught the light with every step, the bold brown lip color enhancing the sharp cut of her cheekbones. Paige wanted to look away, should have looked away, but she couldn’t. Especially not when Azzi turned, her eyes meeting Paige’s with that quiet, knowing smile that always managed to unravel her from the inside out.

Paige, in contrast, had a more laid-back look, but she still exuded an effortless sexiness. The cream-colored button-up she wore was unbuttoned just enough to hint at the toned muscle beneath, the knitted white shorts showing off her powerful thighs. There was something unfair about how easily she carried herself—relaxed, confident, like she had nothing to prove, even when she was actively unraveling Azzi with just her presence.

As they walked up to the long table where the rest of the team sat, Caroline glanced up from her phone, her expression unreadable before she smirked. A knowing smirk. Ayanna and Ice were caught up in conversation, but Aubrey? Aubrey was watching them like a hawk, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

At the end of the table sat Geno and CD. Geno, always impatient, already had a menu in his hand, looking mildly annoyed, while CD casually flipped through the wine list. As soon as they approached, Geno couldn’t resist commenting.

“Nice of you two to join us,” he said dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I was starting to think you got lost on the way.”

Paige, still feeling the heat of Azzi’s lingering touches, just rolled her eyes. "Paige did. Her Spanish skills almost started an international crisis,” Azzi quipped, settling into her seat with a smirk.

CD snorted, clearly not surprised. “I believe that.”

Dinner was a blur of teasing and laughter, but underneath it all, there was something else. Something simmering just beneath the surface. Paige felt it every time Azzi brushed her fingers against her wrist, every time her leg pressed a little too firmly against hers under the table. And then there was the way Azzi watched her—like she knew Paige was squirming, like she was enjoying it.

Paige shot Azzi a playful glare but couldn’t help laughing. "Hey! I was trying," she protested.

“And yet, the effort is still embarrassing,” Aubrey chimed in, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

The team settled into their seats, and the ordering chaos began. Aaliyah, being vegetarian, carefully asked the waiter about meat-free options, which led to a bit of confusion. Ice stared at the menu with the focus of someone trying to decode an ancient manuscript, squinting at the options. Nika had an unintentional disaster with her attempt at Spanish, accidentally ordering a completely different dish than intended, much to her embarrassment. Paige’s attempt was so bad the waiter just blinked at her in confusion, causing everyone at the table to erupt into laughter.

Azzi sighed, her voice dripping with affection. “She’ll have what I’m having. And two Shirley Temples.”

Paige grinned, nudging Azzi’s leg under the table, her touch lingering. “That’s my girl,” she murmured, voice low, teasing.

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. "I don’t know why I bother with you sometimes."

Paige smirked, shifting slightly so her knee pressed firmly against Azzi’s. "Because you love me," she whispered, her lips barely moving, but the words sent a slow burn straight to Azzi’s stomach.

As they waited for their food, the conversation continued flowing with ease. Nika teased Paige relentlessly about her failed Spanish, Caroline gossiped about a recent WNBA trade rumor, and Ice shared a ridiculous story about someone (probably Paige) tripping over their own feet during practice. Aubrey chimed in with a dramatic reenactment, complete with exaggerated gestures, making everyone laugh.

Then, unexpectedly, a small boy approached Azzi shyly, holding out his phone. "Excuse me, are you Azzi Fudd? Can I get a picture?"

Azzi smiled warmly, her eyes softening as she crouched down to meet the boy’s gaze. “Of course!” she said, her voice gentle, her presence radiating kindness.

Before she could stand back up, Paige slid into the frame, grinning. "Can I be in it too?" she asked, her voice playful.

The boy nodded, and a quick photo was snapped. As soon as it was over, the boy ran off without a word. Paige couldn’t help but pout. "Wow. Guess I’m just a background character now."

Azzi laughed, her fingers trailing up Paige’s thigh under the table, her touch slow, deliberate. Paige’s breath hitched, her grin faltering just slightly. "Don’t worry," Azzi murmured, her voice velvety smooth, "You’re still my main character."

When the food arrived, the table quieted for a moment as everyone dug in. The team made a half-hearted attempt to thank the waiters in Spanish, though Paige’s attempt this time was miraculously correct, earning a proud nod from Azzi.

But Paige barely tasted her food, too focused on the way Azzi kept touching her—her fingers brushing against Paige’s wrist, her nails dragging lazily along the seam of Paige’s shorts, the way her lips curved into a smirk every time Paige shifted in her seat. It was intoxicating, the heat building between them with every glance, every accidental brush of skin.

Azzi leaned in, her lips just a breath away from Paige’s ear. “You’re squirming.”

Paige exhaled sharply, trying to act unaffected, but her voice came out just a little too breathless. “You’re playing dirty.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against Paige’s, her voice nothing but a whisper. “And you love it.”

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her fork. She did love it. And Azzi knew it. She always did.

Paige leaned in close, her breath warm against Azzi’s ear, voice low and dripping with intent. “Meet me in the bathroom. Now.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. She didn’t have to. The look in Paige’s eyes was enough to make her stomach flip, her skin prickle with anticipation. She took a slow sip of her drink, waiting for the perfect moment before casually pushing back her chair. She didn’t need to look to know Paige was already walking ahead, the confident sway of her hips an unspoken command.

Inside the dimly lit restroom, Paige leaned against the counter, fingers tapping idly against the cool marble. The mirror reflected the flicker of mischief in her darkened gaze as she watched Azzi step in and quietly shut the door behind her.

“Took you long enough,” Paige murmured, voice thick with something deeper, something dangerous.

Azzi barely had a second to react before Paige grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into the nearest stall, locking the door with a sharp click. Their mouths collided, all heat and urgency, lips parting instantly as Paige backed Azzi up against the stall door. Azzi gasped into the kiss, fingers digging into Paige’s biceps as she felt the solid strength beneath her shirt. Paige’s hands were everywhere—gripping her hips, sliding up the curve of her waist, teasing just under the hem of her top before skimming over bare skin.

Azzi’s curls tumbled free as Paige yanked her hair tie loose, fingers threading through the soft, unruly strands. “God,” Paige murmured against her lips, voice breathless, reverent. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Azzi smirked, despite the racing of her heart. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

Paige groaned, her teeth catching Azzi’s bottom lip as she trailed open-mouthed kisses down her jaw. She pressed in closer, her knee slipping between Azzi’s thighs, the heat of her body sending a shiver down Azzi’s spine.

“You wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?” Paige whispered, lips brushing over the pulse thrumming wildly in Azzi’s throat.

Azzi exhaled sharply, nails dragging down Paige’s back as she grinned. “And what if I did?”

Paige’s grip tightened, hands sliding lower, fingers ghosting over the waistband of Azzi’s skirt. The teasing was excruciating, deliberate, every touch designed to make Azzi squirm. Her breathing hitched as Paige’s hands inched further, knuckles grazing her bare skin.

Azzi’s voice was low, commanding. “Take your rings off.”

Paige hesitated for a fraction of a second, then obeyed. She turned to the tiny metal table beside them, her fingers gliding over the cool surface as she slid the rings off one by one. The absence of them made her touch softer, more intimate as she returned her hands to Azzi’s hips, pressing her firmly against the door.

Each kiss was deep, slow, lingering, sending a coil of heat twisting tighter in Azzi’s stomach. Paige was thorough, mapping out every sensitive spot with lips, tongue, and teeth until Azzi was barely holding onto the railing for support. Paige’s hands were bold now, fingertips dragging up the inside of Azzi’s thighs, teasing just at the edge of where she wanted her most. Azzi let out a quiet, desperate whimper, hips canting forward as Paige smirked against her skin.

“You’re already this worked up?” Paige teased, voice thick with satisfaction. She nipped at Azzi’s collarbone, tongue following the mark she left behind.

Azzi let out a shuddering breath, grabbing Paige’s wrist and guiding her exactly where she needed her. “Shut up and do something about it.”

Paige chuckled, a dark, wicked sound, before obliging, her fingers slipping beneath fabric, touch deliberate and slow. Azzi’s grip tightened on Paige’s shoulders, nails biting into skin as she struggled to stay quiet, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

Then, just as Paige’s fingers pressed deeper, the bathroom door creaked open.

“You two in here?” Ice’s voice rang out, teasing, entirely unimpressed.

Paige stilled. Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, biting back a groan.

Paige was the first to recover, clearing her throat as she called out, “Yeah, just—uh, fixing Azzi’s skirt!”

A pause. Then Ice scoffed. “Right. Try not to traumatize anyone, please.”

Silence settled between them as they listened to the door swing shut.

Slowly, Azzi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Paige leaned back, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. “We’re really bad at this.”

Azzi smoothed down her skirt, cheeks flushed. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Paige reached for her rings, sliding them back onto her fingers—except one was missing.

Azzi twirled it between her fingers, slipping it onto her own hand before Paige could take it back.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You stole one.”

Azzi’s lips curled into a smirk, holding up her hand. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

Paige exhaled a laugh, shaking her head as she traced a finger over the ring now snug on Azzi’s hand. “It’s cute, though,” she murmured, voice softer now.

Azzi looked up at her, something unspoken passing between them. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t have to. Instead, she took Paige’s hand and intertwined their fingers, the stolen ring cool against her own skin.

They took a moment to adjust their clothes, trying to smooth out any signs of what had just transpired, but the energy between them was undeniable. Paige washed her hands, glancing at Azzi in the mirror. Their eyes met, and the connection between them felt even stronger than before. Their touches were softer now, but no less intimate.

They exited the bathroom, moving back to the table with a newfound sense of confidence, but there was an undeniable buzz in the air between them. CD immediately gave Azzi a once-over, a skeptical look in her eyes. “You okay? You look out of breath.”

Azzi, her cheeks flushed but her voice steady, cleared her throat. “I—uh—got caught up… with the toilet?” she said, trying to cover up the obvious.

Caroline snorted, eyeing the ring on Azzi’s finger. “Did you go shopping in there?”

Azzi tried to explain, but no one bought it. The teasing began, and the night carried on with more laughter and banter.

As dinner wound down, Paige took out her phone, pretending to be serious. “I need to do my Duolingo lesson,” she announced with mock-urgency.

Azzi rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s really what’s on your mind right now?”

Paige nodded with a grin. “Gotta keep my streak alive.”

Before they left, Paige casually turned to Aubrey. “Oh, by the way, don’t go into our room tonight,” she said, her voice light, but there was an unspoken promise behind the words.

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the hidden meaning, the night ending with a perfect blend of teasing and desire.

With a gentle thud, the door to their hotel room closed, and the air was heavy with a tension that neither of them was yet brave enough to confront but that they could both feel in their veins. Everything felt a bit too close, a bit too right, because of the heat that twisted beneath the skin.

Paige tossed the key card onto the nightstand with a lazy flick of her wrist, stretching her arms over her head just a bit too dramatically, her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of her toned stomach. She knew exactly what she was doing—knew how to work the room, knew how to make Azzi’s mind race without even trying. Azzi stood by the door, biting her lip, eyes glued to Paige’s movement. It was almost unfair how easy it was for Paige to command attention, even when she wasn’t trying. Her shirt was wrinkled from dinner, unbuttoned just enough to make Azzi want to reach over and pull it off, fingers itching for the excuse. Her baggy shorts clung to her hips, the way she wore them not out of sloppiness but out of knowing exactly how good it looked. The sight made Azzi’s breath hitch—Paige had the ability to look casual and sexy all at once.

Azzi couldn't stop staring. She felt exposed, despite being fully clothed in her tight skirt that fit her like a second skin. She was acutely aware of every single inch of her body, the way the fabric hugged her curves, the way the strap of her top had slipped off her shoulder, just enough to hint at what was underneath. She hated how much it made her want to crawl into Paige’s space, kiss her senseless, and let the tension boil over.

Paige caught the glance, that flicker of something raw in Azzi’s eyes. She smirked, a predatory glint in her gaze. "You look like you have something on your mind." Her voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in it, something that sent a rush of heat straight to Azzi’s core.

Azzi’s response was a scoff, but it came out breathy, almost like a sigh. "You’re annoying."

Paige took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking, and for a moment, Azzi was frozen in place. “Yeah?” Paige’s voice dropped low, teasing. She reached out, fingers grazing the exposed skin of Azzi’s shoulder, deliberately slow, a soft caress that made Azzi’s heart skip. Her touch lingered, trailing down the curve of Azzi’s collarbone, and Azzi felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Then why are you staring at me like that?”

Azzi bit her lip, fighting the urge to respond to Paige’s challenge. The problem was that Paige was so damn good at getting under her skin, and Azzi had never been able to resist her. "I—" Azzi’s throat went dry, and she cursed herself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. It was as if Paige was a magnet and Azzi was the iron, and there was nothing she could do but pull closer.

Before Azzi could recover, Paige leaned in just a bit more, close enough that Azzi could feel the heat of her breath on her skin. The faint scent of Paige’s cologne, sweet and warm, filled her senses. It was intoxicating. And the worst part? It made Azzi want more.

“Cat got your tongue?” Paige murmured, lips barely grazing the shell of Azzi’s ear, her fingers now tracing the strap of Azzi’s top, teasing her with that soft, barely-there touch. Azzi's pulse quickened, her skin tightening under the contact. It was torture. Pure, delicious torture.

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper when she managed to speak. “Shut up.”

Suddenly, Azzi was unable to handle it any longer. She grabbed Paige's shirt collar and pulled her closer, planting a forceful kiss on her lips that was anything but tender. It was frantic and ravenous, and although neither of them was yet ready to acknowledge their desires, they both knew exactly what they wanted.

Paige's breath quickened, her hands pulling Azzi closer, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her skirt. The heat between them was undeniable, each kiss igniting something deeper, something that felt like it could consume them whole.

Azzi’s hands gripped Paige's shoulders, her nails digging in slightly as she pressed her body against hers, eager, desperate for more. Every kiss was a new rush, a wave they couldn't stop riding.

Paige broke away, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear, her voice low, filled with raw sincerity. "I want to make you feel everything," she whispered, the words soft but charged, a promise that both thrilled and calmed her. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."

Azzi’s breath hitched, her eyes closing at the sound of Paige’s voice, so tender and unwavering. It was the trust, the way Paige made her feel seen, like she could let go and still be safe. Her heart beat faster, not just from the fire between them, but from the depth of what they were sharing.

With a quiet gasp, Azzi tugged Paige back into another kiss, her hands finding the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her closer as if she couldn't get enough. Paige’s touch was gentle yet insistent, moving with purpose as she let her hands roam, each touch sending a spark through Azzi’s veins.

With her fingers pushing into the waistband, Paige pulled back just enough to rip her skirt off before Azzi was able to argue, throwing it away as like it were nothing. Paige's voice was raw and full of yearning as she exclaimed, "God, you're so fucking hot." Before her lips touched the delicate flesh of Azzi's inner thigh, she spent no time in sitting between her legs and sending scorching, open-mouthed kisses down Azzi's body.

Azzi's body shook with anticipation as her breath caught. She would have gone crazy just from the sensation of Paige's kisses on her skin. She whimpered, her hands clutching the covers underneath her as her body pleaded for more. "Paige…please."

With a sly smile, Paige drew back just enough to meet Azzi's gaze. "You know what you want, don’t you?" Her eyes, black with hunger, deceived her, even though her voice was playful. The unexpected, wonderful pressure caused Azzi's back to arch off the bed as she moaned and flicked her tongue against her clit.

Azzi moaned, her voice shaking, "Fuck, don't stop." Paige didn't need any more encouragement. She sucked her clit into her mouth, her tongue working in a rhythm that made Azzi see stars. The pleasure was so great that Azzi had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.

As Azzi gasped, her body clenched around her as Paige inserted a finger inside her, just as she was about to lose control. Azzi begged, "I need… all of you" Azzi pleaded, her passion haze preventing her from speaking clearly.

Paige, as always, was too slow for Azzi’s liking, taking her time, teasing her, savoring every inch of Azzi. She pushed her finger in and out, her mouth never leaving Azzi’s clit, and Azzi’s hands shot out, gripping Paige’s hair, pushing her closer, desperate for more.

The pressure was building, her body trembling with need. Paige’s fingers worked in perfect time with her mouth, sending Azzi’s mind spiraling into a frenzy of sensation. '' Fuck, you’re gonna make me—” Azzi cut herself off, her voice a strained moan as she felt the pressure building in her stomach, like a tightening coil just about to snap.

Paige pulled back just enough to look up at Azzi, eyes dark and lust-filled. “C'mon, tell me what you want'' she demanded, her voice husky.

Azzi couldn’t speak, her chest heaving, her body already on the edge. Instead, she just nodded, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair, pulling her back down. Paige grinned, knowing exactly what Azzi needed, and dove right back in.

And just when it felt like Azzi was going to lose herself completely, there was a sharp knock on the door.

Both of them froze, hearts pounding in their chests, breath ragged.

Another knock, louder this time.

“Hotel service,” a muffled voice called from the other side.

Azzi groaned, her head falling back against the door as she stared at Paige in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me”

Paige, despite the situation, let out a breathless laugh, clearly amused by the timing. "Is it breakfast already?"

Azzi, desperate to get her bearings, shoved Paige off her, both of them scrambling to compose themselves. Paige straightened out Azzi’s top with a wink. “Guess we’re gonna have to pick this up later.”

Azzi shot her a look, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “You’re impossible.”

Paige just grinned, unbothered. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the flush on her face betrayed her. With a dramatic sigh, she walked over to the door, pulling it open.

The hotel worker, a middle-aged woman with a knowing smile, glanced between them, eyebrows raised in amusement. “¿Interrumpo algo?” she asked, her Argentinian accent thick, but the playful tone was unmistakable.

Azzi, still reeling from the moment, tried to shake her head. “No, uh, just—”

The worker raised an eyebrow, stepping in with a tray. “Ah, bueno. But you two, much tension. Like telenovela. Hehe.” She winked. “Cuidado, the walls thin.”

Paige, catching onto the joke, grinned like a cat that just ate the canary. “Oh, I like her.”

Azzi, mortified, covered her face with a pillow as the worker left with a chuckle. Paige, of course, couldn’t help but smirk. "Looks like we have an audience,"

Azzi shot her a glare, but it was hard to stay mad when her heart was still racing, her body still craving more.

“Shut up,” she muttered, throwing a pillow at her.

The bathroom door clicked shut, the sound lost in the heavy humidity that clung to the air, thick and warm like the quiet between them. Azzi stood in front of the mirror, her hands hesitating at the waistband of her skirt. She could feel Paige’s gaze behind her, that knowing stare that felt like it was pulling her skin taut, like she was being seen in a way she couldn’t quite escape.

When Azzi let the skirt slip from her body, it fell with a soft rustle, brushing against her legs before it hit the floor with a light thud. The air felt different now—charged, like a spark waiting to catch fire. Paige didn’t move right away, but Azzi could feel her presence, could sense how her breath had shifted, how the rhythm of it became heavier, deeper. Azzi wondered if Paige was counting down the seconds until she crossed that line they both had been dancing around for too long.

But then, without warning, Paige’s laughter broke through the silence. It was warm, easy, that signature laugh of hers that always managed to make Azzi’s heart flutter. “Really?” she teased, her voice low and playful, but Azzi heard the edge beneath it. She heard the way Paige was fighting back something more, something deeper.

Azzi smirked, her lips curling with that tiny bit of satisfaction she always felt when she managed to get under Paige’s skin. “Yeah, really,” she replied, the words softer than she intended, carrying a weight she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Before she could think too much about it, Paige was there, her hands settling on Azzi’s hips, grounding her in a way that made her knees weak. Azzi’s breath caught in her chest, the heat of Paige’s touch seeping through her thin shirt, searing her skin. Her body was suddenly aware of everything—every brush of Paige’s fingers, every second that stretched between them.

Azzi reached for the collar of Paige’s shirt, pulling her forward with a quiet force. Her breath was uneven, her chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something to break the tension that was wrapping tighter around them with every passing second, but all she could do was let her fingers trace the outline of Paige’s jaw, the same jaw she had spent countless moments staring at, memorizing.

Paige didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing just below Azzi’s ear, sending a wave of shivers down her spine. “You’re always making me clean up your messes,” Paige whispered, the words so casual, so teasing, but Azzi could hear the tension simmering beneath them. She could feel it in the way Paige’s fingers tightened at her waist, how she was barely holding herself back.

Azzi’s heart thumped louder, and she didn’t know whether it was the proximity or the pull of desire that had made it so hard to think. She leaned into Paige’s touch, their bodies aligning, feeling the soft press of Paige’s chest against her back, the warmth that wrapped around them both. She wanted to say something, but words felt like they would shatter the moment, so she kept quiet, her mouth curving into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe you like it messy,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with unspoken meaning.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the space between them charged with something Azzi couldn’t name. She felt Paige’s gaze burning into her, felt the way it held her, a weight that made her feel both exposed and more herself than she’d ever been.

Paige’s hands slid from Azzi’s hips to her back, strong and certain, and before Azzi could say anything, she found herself being lifted effortlessly, her feet leaving the ground in one smooth motion. Paige’s touch was sure, and yet Azzi could feel the smallest hesitation in her, like she was waiting for Azzi to pull away, to stop her.

But Azzi didn’t pull away. She let herself be carried, letting Paige place her gently on the bathroom counter, the cold surface beneath her a sharp contrast to the heat that still lingered between them. Azzi felt a flush crawl up her neck, and when she looked up at Paige, there was something vulnerable in her expression, something that made her stomach tighten with an unfamiliar emotion.

Paige bent down slightly, her forehead grazing Azzi’s, and in that moment, Azzi could feel the unspoken words hanging between them. Paige was so close, close enough that Azzi could taste the faintest hint of her perfume, could feel the warm breath on her lips. “Careful, you’re going to break something,” Azzi whispered, teasing to break the tension, but even in her words, there was something deeper, something she couldn’t hide.

Paige’s lips twitched with a smile, and Azzi knew she was trying to hide the way her heart was racing, too. “Well, you should’ve picked somewhere taller,” Paige shot back, the laughter in her voice thick with affection, her fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Azzi’s face. It was tender, deliberate, like she was touching something fragile and precious.

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, letting the softness of Paige’s touch sink into her skin, feeling the slow burn of desire and affection roll through her all at once. She wasn’t sure what it was about Paige that always made her feel both more alive and more vulnerable, but she wasn’t sure she cared anymore.

Her fingers traced the edge of Paige’s shirt, the fabric soft under her touch. It felt like a promise—like something she couldn’t quite keep her hands off of. "I don’t mind being close to you,” Azzi said quietly, her voice steady but her heart beating louder than ever.

Paige leaned in, brushing a kiss across Azzi’s lips—gentle at first, a sweet connection that deepened as the seconds ticked by. There was nothing rushed about it.

Azzi’s hands moved quickly, pulling Paige’s shirt off in a single motion, her fingers working with ease, revealing the skin she had grown to adore. She took in the sight of Paige’s toned body, her gaze lingering on her abs with something like admiration, but also hunger—something deep and unspoken.

Paige’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking up to meet Azzi’s. “Eyes up, pretty'' she said, her voice a little breathier than usual.

Azzi smirked but nodded, her gaze meeting Paige’s. “I can’t help it,” she said quietly, voice full of softness but teasing too.

Paige’s heart thudded in her chest at the sound of Azzi’s voice. There was something so easy about being with her, but at the same time, it was more complex than any simple connection. It was deep, a pull that Paige couldn’t quite explain, and maybe didn’t want to.

They kissed again, slower this time, the heat between them growing with each passing second. Azzi shifted slightly, her ass resting on the counter, and Paige noticed how her panties were almost slipping off, a small detail that sent a wave of awareness through her. She couldn’t help but reach down, her hand brushing over Azzi’s hips with a gentleness that belied the storm building between them.

Azzi’s breath quickened, and a soft moan escaped her lips as she tilted her head back slightly, giving herself to Paige completely. The connection between them was undeniable, electric.

Paige couldn’t help but grin, her voice soft but deliberate. “You know, we came in here to shower, right?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, and her face softened, almost frustrated. “I don’t want to. I need you, all of you. I need to feel you, Paige,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but the emotion in it was raw and real.

Paige didn’t say anything. She simply lifted Azzi again, cradling her in her arms as she moved toward the shower. She could feel Azzi’s hands on her neck, gripping tightly, and her lips against her skin, but all she could think about was getting Azzi to relax, getting her to feel taken care of.

Once inside the shower, Paige lowered Azzi onto the stool, brushing her hands over her arms in a gentle, reassuring motion. “Want the stool?” Paige teased, her voice light. “Your knees must be sore from all that princess treatment.”

Azzi laughed softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m not complaining,” she said, her voice a mix of playful and vulnerable. “But yes, I’ll take it.”

Paige turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature carefully. Azzi moved to press the button herself, but the water shot out too hot, causing her to yelp and pull back.

“Ow,” Azzi muttered, but before Paige could react, she was already there, hands gentle but firm on Azzi’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you burn yourself,” Paige murmured, her voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, just a little… surprised,” Azzi laughed, trying to wave it off, but Paige could see the way her body tensed. She smiled, brushing Azzi’s damp hair away from her face.

“I’ll take care of you, okay?” Paige said softly, her hands running over Azzi’s back in soothing motions.

Azzi nodded, her eyes closing as she leaned into the touch. “I know.”

After grabbing the upscale shampoo with a vanilla aroma and warming it in her palms, Paige started rubbing it into Azzi's scalp. She moved slowly and deliberately, as though she had endless time to take care of her.

Azzi sighed deeply, her tension slowly melting away under Paige’s touch. “I love you” Azzi whispered, her voice soft and filled with gratitude.

Paige smiled, her lips brushing against the back of Azzi’s neck as she worked. “I’ll always take care of you, Azzi,” she murmured, her words quiet but firm.

Azzi’s fingers slowly ran through Paige’s hair, soft and slow, her hands tracing the curve of Paige’s face, feeling the warmth of her skin. They shared a smile, small but full of meaning, the silence between them comfortable and full of trust.

Paige moved to Azzi’s legs, her hands working in gentle motions as she massaged more shampoo into her skin. Azzi’s legs stretched out, her body slightly arching to give Paige more access, and Paige took a moment to admire how beautiful Azzi was, the way her body responded so naturally to her touch.

“Is this okay?” Paige asked softly, her voice careful as she moved closer to Azzi’s knees.

Azzi nodded, her lips curling into a small smile. “More than okay” she whispered.

Paige kissed her legs slowly, each motion filled with reverence and care, and when she reached Azzi’s knees, she worked with extra caution. Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed, and she kissed Paige’s knuckles in silent appreciation.

The moment was sweet, but also electric, filled with the quiet understanding between them. Paige was lost in the rhythm of it all, in the beauty of taking care of Azzi, and in the trust Azzi had placed in her.

Azzi pulled Paige in closer, a small bubble of laughter escaping as Paige blew some foam into her face, and they kissed again, soft and slow, letting the warmth of the shower and the connection between them take over.

The steam from the shower lingered in the air as Azzi stepped out, her skin glowing, droplets of water tracing down her shoulders, the curls of her damp hair framing her face in soft waves. She shivered slightly, stepping onto the bath mat, her bare feet pressing into the plush fabric as she glanced over at Paige. Azzi’s eyes, soft and full of warmth, met Paige’s gaze with a mischievous gleam.

“Should I shower you too?” Azzi asked, her voice light and teasing, but there was something deeper in her tone—an unspoken affection hidden beneath the playful words.

Paige, just finishing up rinsing herself, shot Azzi a grin over her shoulder. “It’s okay. Your knees are begging for a break,” she replied, her voice a soft tease as she stepped out from under the showerhead. She grabbed a towel, patting it across her face, then tossed it over her shoulder.

Azzi tilted her head, smiling warmly. “I could still do it,” she countered, her voice light but insistent. There was something about taking care of Paige that she just couldn’t shake.

Paige shook her head affectionately, wiping the water from her neck. “You’re always trying to take care of me,” she said, walking over to Azzi, wrapping her arms around her waist. “ I’ve always got you in first place. Even before Shirleys, and you know I don't play about those”

Azzi’s eyes softened at the mention of Shirley Temples, a drink they always shared during their late-night hangouts. “You really put me before Shirleys? I'm flattered” Azzi teased, her smile both playful and touched by the sentiment.

Paige chuckled, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she lifted her effortlessly. “ Yeah. And if you don’t stop with the teasing, I might just prove it again,” she whispered, lifting Azzi into her arms, her muscles flexing as she did. Azzi’s laughter filled the air, soft and full of affection as she wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck.

“Paige, you’re way too strong for your own good,” Azzi said between soft giggles, resting her head on Paige’s shoulder as she was carried.

Paige flashed a grin, her heart thumping at the simple touch. “I’ve got all the strength for you, you know that,” she whispered back, carrying Azzi to the bathroom door. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

Azzi nodded, her hands lightly gripping the back of Paige’s neck as she was gently set on the bathroom counter. Paige then walked off, disappearing into the bedroom before returning with a fluffy towel in hand, the one that had Olaf’s face on it. It was a soft, plush white towel, the edges trimmed with a light blue that matched Paige's eyes, and the image of Olaf smiling widely at the corner of the towel made Azzi’s heart skip.

“Your Olaf towel again?” Azzi said teasingly, arching an eyebrow.

Paige gave her a look, rolling her eyes but with a smile. “Not mine, that's yours” she replied. “It’s cute.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile, her affection for Paige making her chest tighten. She loved the silly little things about Paige—the way she never cared about how others might judge her, the way she loved without a care. It was these details that made Azzi’s heart feel so full. Paige carefully wrapped the towel around Azzi’s shoulders, her fingers lingering on Azzi’s skin, soft and deliberate, as if she was savoring every second of the touch.

Paige then began drying Azzi’s skin, her hands gentle as she moved the towel over Azzi’s arms, chest, and legs. She was so careful, her touch deliberate but affectionate. The warmth from the towel was comforting against Azzi’s cool, damp skin, and Paige made sure each movement was slow, almost reverent.

As her hands moved down Azzi’s arms, Paige paused for a second, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on Azzi’s bare chest. Her lips were warm against the soft skin, and Azzi’s breath caught in her throat. Paige’s touch was always like this—careful, attentive, as if she was trying to memorize every curve, every line. The soft sound of the towel against Azzi’s skin was the only noise in the room, and Paige’s gaze was fixed, her eyes filled with admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” Paige whispered, not even realizing she said it aloud. But the words felt natural, like they were meant to be spoken, like they were true in every sense.

Azzi smiled at her, the blush that had crept onto her cheeks now feeling more like a warmth from within, rather than embarrassment. She could feel Paige’s hands as they continued drying her off, each move making her feel more at ease, more cared for. When Paige wrapped the towel tightly around her, ensuring she wouldn’t be cold, Azzi let out a small sigh of relief, feeling a bit lighter from the care she was receiving.

Paige then moved to get a stool for Azzi, placing it by the sink. “Here, this should help,” she said, gesturing to the small wooden stool that was just tall enough for Azzi to sit comfortably and dry her own hair. Azzi nodded, giving Paige a grateful smile before sitting on the stool.

“I’ve got my routine,” Azzi said with a wink, her voice soft but teasing, as she ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the curls.

Paige stepped away from her, heading toward the shower. She turned the water on, feeling the heat rush over her body, washing away the last remnants of the day. The water cascaded over her, steam rising around her as she let herself relax. Paige took her time, her fingers running through her own wet hair, shampooing and conditioning it slowly.

After a few minutes, she stepped out, grabbing her boxers from the drawer. They were a soft, faded navy blue, and they were a bit worn in the waistband. She tugged them on quickly, feeling the familiar, cozy fit against her skin before slipping into her plush, white robe. The robe had a soft, velvety texture, almost like the towel, and the sleeves were long and cozy, brushing over her hands as she adjusted it around her waist.

Paige walked back into the bathroom, noticing Azzi was still sitting on the stool, her damp hair now tangled in soft curls, her towel still loosely hanging around her shoulders.

“You’re killing me, Azzi,” Paige said with a grin, her eyes softening when she saw Azzi’s relaxed expression. “You know that?”

Azzi smirked but kept her gaze gentle. “I know, Paige,” she said softly, almost as if the teasing had taken a backseat to something more meaningful in the air between them.

Paige leaned down to kiss Azzi’s temple, the softest brush of lips against warm skin, and Azzi let out a small, content sigh. It was moments like this—soft, quiet moments—that made her heart swell.

Azzi then reached for her toothbrush, her eyes bright. “Can you put some toothpaste on for me?”

Paige smiled, her hands moving quickly to grab the tube of toothpaste. “Of course,” she said, squeezing the perfect amount onto Azzi’s brush. Azzi’s smile was soft, thankful, as she took the brush and began brushing her teeth. Paige did the same beside her, the two of them standing together, side by side, brushing their teeth in comfortable silence. The sound of the bristles against their teeth filled the air, but there was a peaceful stillness between them.

When they were finished, Azzi, ever the thoughtful one, looked over at Paige. “Can you put some lotion on me?”

Paige nodded, moving to grab the lavender-scented lotion from the counter. The creamy lotion smelled faintly of flowers and calm, and Paige warmed it in her hands before applying it slowly to Azzi’s skin. Azzi stood before her, her towel now dropping to the floor, the soft sound of the fabric brushing the tiles making Paige’s heart skip.

Paige’s hands moved carefully over Azzi’s body, starting from her lower legs, the soft pressure of her touch lingering as she worked the lotion into Azzi’s skin. She moved up slowly, her hands rubbing the lotion into her thighs with tender strokes, the scent of lavender filling the air as she kissed Azzi’s legs, each kiss soft and lingering, a quiet act of affection.

As Paige moved higher, she kissed Azzi’s stomach, placing a sloppy kiss over her belly button piercing. Azzi smiled at her, the playful teasing from before melting away in the heat of the moment. Paige chuckled softly. “You know, that piercing’s kind of cocky,” she teased, the words playful yet affectionate.

Azzi smirked. “It suits me,” she replied softly, her smile wide and full of warmth.

Paige finished applying the lotion, and Azzi stood before her, her body fully revealed, glowing in the soft bathroom light. Paige’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before she wrapped Azzi in a soft towel again, making sure she was warm. The moment hung between them, peaceful and full of affection.

The warm, dimly lit hotel room buzzed with the soft hum of the air conditioning, cooling off the heat of their hectic day. Paige and Azzi had finally settled into the cozy bed, the blankets tangled around them from the chaotic moments they’d shared. The air smelled faintly of lavender and fresh sheets, a calm contrast to the wild adventures they’d experienced together in the past few hours.

Azzi was propped up against the headboard, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, the light from the bedside lamp casting a soft glow on her skin. Her robe, the fluffy white one with tiny pastel pink flowers that Paige had gifted her, was draped around her like it always was when she was trying to relax. Azzi’s fingers absentmindedly played with the delicate tie of the robe, twirling it between her fingertips as her eyes focused on the balcony beyond the open window.

Paige, lying beside her, stretched out lazily, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s knee. The faintest smile played on her lips as she studied her. "You know," Paige started, her voice low and teasing, the mischievous glint in her eyes making it clear she was about to say something bold, "I could fuck you on that balcony."

Azzi rolled her eyes, clearly tired but with that sarcastic edge she always had. She let out a sigh, her voice a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "Sure, Paige, right after I finish climbing Mount Everest." She glanced at Paige, her lips curling into a half-smile. "Really thinking you can convince me after all this?"

Paige chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and flopped back onto the bed beside Azzi. She didn’t even wait for a response before sliding under the covers, dragging Azzi down with her. Azzi huffed but let herself be pulled, her body curling into Paige’s, resting her head on her chest. She reached up, tugging at the lapel of Paige’s robe, clearly needing something to distract her from the exhaustion that was slowly creeping in.

Paige, not one to ever miss an opportunity for affection, already had her hand slipping between Azzi’s legs, the soft touch of her fingers trailing dangerously close to where Azzi’s body had already started to warm up.

Azzi tensed instantly, swatting Paige’s hand away with a sigh. "Seriously, Paige?" she muttered under her breath, though her voice held no real anger—only the slight irritation that comes from being teased too much when you just wanted to rest.

Paige smiled to herself, slightly annoyed at the rejection, but still, the playful spark in her eyes didn’t fade. She gave up for now, lifting her hand to check her phone when it buzzed against the nightstand. Azzi, ever the curious one, reached for it before Paige could even react, grabbing the phone and handing it over with a soft chuckle.

Paige took it from her with a raised brow. “Ice,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I wonder what she wants now."

She opened the text from Ice, rolling her eyes as she read aloud, "The waiter found a ring on the bathroom floor. Figured it was yours."

Azzi snorted. "Of course it was. A ring? Really? That’s what they’re bothering you with?"

Paige, still amused, fired back a quick response. "Yeah, those are mine. Tell them to give them to Aubrey, please. I don’t need any more reminders of my less-than-classy behavior."

Azzi laughed at that, but Paige’s voice turned serious for a moment. "Seriously, though, they’re yours, Azzi. But let’s never talk about this again."

Before Azzi could say anything, Paige’s phone buzzed again. "Ugh, Ice again," Paige groaned, rolling her eyes. She opened the new message to find a teasing remark from Ice.

"Well, if you didn’t just leave your rings on the bathroom floor… honestly, I'm still mentally recovering from whatever happened in there. Sleep well, though."

Paige’s lips twitched into a smile, her fingers typing a reply with a smirk. "Go to sleep, Ice. You’re starting to sound like Kamorah"

Azzi, her head still resting on Paige’s chest, could barely contain her laughter at that, her eyes lighting up at the back-and-forth banter between Paige and her friend. But before she could comment, another buzz interrupted them. Paige glanced at the new message, her expression shifting to one of slight annoyance before softening into understanding.

"It’s Aubrey," she murmured, quickly reading the message aloud. "Aubrey wants to come in to grab her charger."

Azzi, still nestled on Paige’s chest, mumbled something unintelligible, clearly too tired to care about Aubrey’s arrival. Paige glanced down at her, brushing a strand of hair away from Azzi’s face as she typed her response to Aubrey. “Yeah, she can come in. We’re not doing anything.”

After a moment of silence, Azzi finally fell asleep, her breathing soft and steady. Paige watched her, her chest swelling with a mixture of pride and love as she gazed at the woman she’d spent so much time with. Her body was still, her chest rising and falling with every gentle breath. Paige smiled softly, taking her hand and kissing each knuckle lightly, the tenderness of the gesture almost making her heart ache.

Azzi shifted slightly in her sleep, her legs instinctively finding their way over Paige’s waist, making her body settle deeper into the bed. Paige shifted uncomfortably under the weight, but she didn’t mind. If Azzi was comfortable, so was she. She couldn’t help but admire the peaceful expression on Azzi’s face as she rested.

For a moment, Paige forgot about everything else, just letting herself enjoy this moment of quiet with Azzi. The world outside was distant—nothing mattered except the soft warmth of Azzi’s body pressed close to hers.

That’s when Paige remembered. Her Duolingo streak. She groaned inwardly. Azzi’s even breathing was almost lulling her to sleep, but Paige didn’t want to lose her streak. She grabbed her phone, trying not to disturb Azzi’s peaceful rest, and opened the Duolingo app.

Just as she started to focus on her lesson, Aubrey quietly entered the room, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the carpet. She paused by the bed, glancing at Azzi, then at Paige. With a knowing smirk, Aubrey gave Paige a quick dap, clearly aware of what had transpired.

"I don’t wanna know what happened in the bathroom," Aubrey muttered, almost to herself. She handed Paige the ring that had been found earlier. "But here’s your ring. The waiter was pretty traumatized, by the way. Poor guy probably won’t ever look at another bathroom the same way again."

Paige could only laugh softly at Aubrey’s words, grateful that her friend was never one to judge. Aubrey grabbed her charger from the table, then turned to leave. As she headed for the door, she stopped short when she noticed something on the floor by the bed.

Aubrey’s eyes widened a little. "Uh, Paige… your girl’s bra is on the floor. Do you, uh… need to handle that?" she asked, her voice tinged with both amusement and confusion.

Paige, still half-laughing and half-dazed from everything, didn’t even move. Azzi’s body was sprawled over her, and she couldn’t shift without disturbing her. “Just leave it. I’ll get it later,” Paige said, grinning sheepishly.

Aubrey gave her a quick, knowing look, then turned to leave. "You two are lucky. Goodnight.'' She paused at the door and added, "By the way, don’t forget to take care of that ring situation."

When the door clicked shut behind her, Paige let out a deep breath, looking down at Azzi again. Her heart swelled, and she couldn’t help but think to herself how lucky she was. How blessed she felt to have Azzi in her life, someone she could grow with, love with, and share her life with.

After a moment, Paige reached for her devotional book from the nightstand. She flipped it open, finding a page titled Growing Together in Love. She read the scripture aloud quietly to herself, her voice soft and reflective.

“My goal is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”

Paige closed the book with a sigh, her heart full as she prayed silently, asking for strength in her relationship with Azzi, for guidance and growth as a couple. When she finished, she gently brushed another curl away from Azzi’s face, letting her fingers linger for just a moment longer than usual.

With one last look at Azzi, now softly curled into her, Paige turned off the light and closed her eyes, drifting into a peaceful sleep herself.

[xxchaosjojoxx]

Hi!! I saw you were taking requests, could I request a Trafalgar Law x Female Strawhat Reader about little moments where Law slowly falls for the reader starting where they first meet on Sabaody Archipelago to the end of Wano if possible? Oh and can I also request the Reader to not have a devil fruit? 😁

A/N: Thanks for both of your request. I hope I did you guys justice <3 @leafcollectorr

Love at third sight (Law x female strawhat!reader / grumpy x sunshine)

The first time Law saw you he knew exactly that you were trouble. That smile you wore while your captain punched this celestial dragon was captivating. Soon as this dude flew to the ground you went towards your captain. “I have the feeling we made a good impression back there.” You giggled.

Even when Eustass and strawhat fought with him against the marines he could still hear your laughter and joyful and especially loud words of encouragement.

“GO get em Captain. Punch them right there. YEAH like that.”

“Looking good tomato head. He flew out of the ring.”

“Wow grumpy cat, your devil fruit power is so cool. I wanna be next. This looks funny.”

Eustass and Law were fast turning our heads towards you. Their faces are bright red. Was it embarrassing for them? Hell yes.

“DON’T CALL ME GRUMPY CAT!” - “WHO IS A TOMATO HEAD WOMAN?!”

That damn smile of yours, made your eyes sparkle like a jewel.

Law was glad that you parted ways that day. Even so, your smile, your voice never left his mind. “How annoying. This damn woman is like their captain.”

The second time he saw you was back on Punk Hazard. After escaping, Law was now on the thousand sunny. And he regretted it very soon. Luffy thought that an alliance was something to eat or a friendship pact. He always thought that Luffy was annoying with this friendly and joyful temper but you? You were louder and happier than your captain.

Law soon retreats, looking around the sunny.

As soon as he saw the medicine room he entered. “That furball is really a doctor huh?” He inspected everything closely. Noticing a lot of bottles with different herbs, powders and flowers inside.

Law took one out of the shelves, reading the label with a frown expression.

“Never heard of it…” he murmured to himself.

“This is a special one. I created it by mixing those two herbs together. It’s an ointment for bruised and even burns”

A soft voice was heard and Law turned around in shock. You stood there, in your hands were the two herbs you talked about. “You did this?” Law asked.

You nodded. “Yep I’m a pharmacist you know? Chopper is the yin to my yang. We are a good team.”

Law blinked a few times, slightly confused.

“I’m surprised.”

“Thought so. People always assume that I am an idiot or just naive. And you know why?” You asked, walking towards your desk, grabbing a notebook.

Law observed every movement of yours closely.

A soft and yet sad smile was on your face as you turned towards him, looking him directly in his eyes. You offered him the notebook. “Because I always wear a smile and show nothing but joy and happiness. You thought so as well, right?”

Law couldn’t help but blush as your words. Taking the notebook from your hands and trying to avoid your gaze. “I didn’t -”

“I hate when people are lying.  It’s ok because it might be for the best. People should underestimate me. That is the best way to help Luffy and the rest of the strawhats. Just be honest with me please.”

Law couldn’t help but staring back at you. “You are quite the clever girl.”

This time the smile was reaching your eyes as they began to sparkle once more, like back there at Sabaody.

“Really? Wow, that's a huge compliment coming from you. If you wanna read some of my research, go for it.”

“Will do it. Thank you.” A smile was on your face…again.

He sighed. Law was about to leave the room but turned around at the door frame. “I should be honest right? Even though your smile annoys me at first, it is still pretty.”

You couldn’t help but blush, trying to sutter a sentence but the words didn’t wanna come out.

Law couldn’t help but smirk. “Good night y/n-ya”

The following days he read your notebook, impressed about your knowledge. He didn’t think that you would be smart and strategic. You only made dumb jokes along your crew. And everytime he saw you enjoying your everyday life with the people around you or being clumsy, he felt a little at home. It was like his crew and corazon was there with him.

The third time he noticed you, really noticed you was back at Zou. After rejoining you and the rest of the strawhats after departing ways in dressrosa he was glad that his crew was safe and sound. Thanks to you, Chopper and the rest of the strawhats.

“Captain!! This girl is such a lifesaver. It stung a little but now I have no ouchies any more.”

Bepo said while cuddling Law.

“Captain Y/N-chan should join us. She is a perfect match for our team.” Shachi said.

Penguin nodded. “She is a perfect match for me as well…”Shachi  punched his friend in the ribs. “I mean for our team. Hehe. But seriously captain. She is the perfect fit for us.”

Law could see that you made a good impression. You were such a sweetheart towards his crew, smiling and laughing with them. Dancing and singing with Shachi and Penguin at the party later that night. They were right. You would be a perfect match for the crew, but the truth was, you were part of the strawhat crew.

The night went on and soon enough they fell asleep one by one. Law was sitting near the campfire, enjoying this peaceful and calm night sky.

He closed his eyes. Everytime your smile was on his mind, since the day he first saw you on Sabaody. But after spending time with you on Punk Hazard and on the ship, your eyes and your sweet nature was all he could think of.

Law noticed right away that someone was right beside him.

As he opened his eyes, he saw you. Standing there with a light blush in front of him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Traffy but…”

You looked shyly towards the ground.

“You don’t disturb me… and what is a Traffy?”

You looked up at him and a big smile was on you.

“That’s my nickname for you. Is that ok?”

You asked nervously while taking a seat next to him.

He couldn’t help but notice how cute you were looking right now.

“Call me ‘Traffy’ if you want but not when the others are around.”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Calling you ‘honey’ in front of them is more embarrassing.”

His face turned crimson red. “W-Where is this coming from?”

“So can I call you Traffy now in front of everyone?”

“Only if I can call you ‘sunshine’ in front of everyone.” He smirked. He knew you would be so shy and easy to tease. You would surely deny it.

“Do you mean it?” Your voice was a mere whisper, a deep red was seen on your face even in the dark. Law couldn’t help but turn his head away from you. “I said it so you could stop with this nickname nonsense but…you remind me of a ray of sunshine. In a good way.”

Law could feel your head leaning onto his side.

“I’m glad that you don’t hate my sunny personality anymore. And I’m glad that your crew doesn’t hate me as well.

He laughed. “Please you are like them. There is no way anyone would hate you, for being yourself.”

“You have a beautiful laugh, Trafalgar.”

Law froze in place.

He turned his head towards you again, looking at you. You were already looking at him and soon enough your eyes met.

“I should probably go.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Are you tired?”

He swallowed hard. “Not yet but it might be for the best.”

Your eyes scanned his gaze and his lips.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Would it be such a catastrophe if I told you that I fell for you?”

Law couldn’t help but caress your cheek. “Would it be selfish of me? Being a part of your crew? After we finish our mission?”

Your foreheads touched and you could feel the warmth of one another.

“It might be a mistake to love me.”

“You had such a hard life. Your crew loves you and wants to help you. I wanna love and help you as well.”

Your soft lips kissed his foreheads in a loving manner.

His hand holding yours, caressing the back of it with his thumb.

“Let me be your sunshine please.”

His lips found yours. The kiss was gentle and loving. “You sure a grumpy cat like me deserved such a ray of sunshine?”

“100% sure”

[simons-purplehoodie]

What do I get for my birthday this year? A break up? 🤭

Based on this hilarious tweet 🤭

Wille lounges on the couch, scrolling through his phone, glancing at the clock. It’s his birthday, and he’s feeling that familiar mix of excitement and melancholy that often occurs on one’s birthday. It’s been five years since the whole “breakup on my birthday” debacle, but every year, he can’t help himself. He has to ask. It’s tradition. And he thinks he’s fucking hilarious for doing so, if he does say so himself.

Simon is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with the kind of precision that’s honestly really attractive. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board is strangely comforting. He loves seeing his boyfriend cooking and he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of the view. His boyfriend's hot, sue him.

“So,” Wille calls out with a mischievous grin, “what are you getting me for my birthday this year? A breakup?”

Simon freezes, not looking up from the vegetables. There’s a pause, just long enough for Wille to think Simon might not respond, but then Simon’s voice cuts through, flat and unamused. “You really think that’s funny?”

Wille raises an eyebrow. “Well, I mean, it’s a classic at this point. You can’t tell me you don’t find it a little funny.”

Simon sighs, but Wille can tell he’s already softening. “I don’t find it funny,” Simon mutters, his voice too calm to be convincing.

“Oh, come on!” Wille says, sitting up. “You know you love it. I do it every year! It’s like our thing. I ask, you pretend to be annoyed, and I laugh—come on, you must secretly like it.”

Simon doesn’t answer immediately, but he does the thing where his mouth twitches just a little, like he’s fighting back a smile. He turns, finally facing Wille. “You’re impossible.”

Wille laughs, proud of himself. “Impossible? I’m keeping tradition, Simon! You’ll laugh at it one of these years, I know you will.”

He gets one of Simon’s classic deadpan stares for several moments before going back to his chopping, though the tiniest smile plays at his lips now. “Keep trying, love, it’ll never happen.”

Wille shrugs too, but he can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. “You like it. I know you do.”

Simon sets the knife down with exaggerated care, then crosses his arms. “Fine, I’ll admit it. It’s a little funny.”

“Aha!” Wille declares, pointing triumphantly. “Told you!”

Simon chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me anyway,” Wille says, leaning back and smiling wider, watching Simon try to hide his amusement. “No breakup this year?”

“No breakup,” Simon says, finally letting out a laugh. “Not today, not ever.”

Wille beams. “Good. Because that’s not the birthday gift I’m hoping for.” He lets his eyes drag dramatically up and down Simon’s frame before saying, “The gift I want is more of this.” He pats the couch next to him.

Simon rolls his eyes but walks over, sitting down beside him with a sigh. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, but the playful glint in his eyes gives him away.

Wille leans in for a kiss, grinning as he pulls back just before their lips touch. “You mean we’re lucky, huh?”

Simon shakes his head, but there’s a warmth in his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

Wille chuckles to himself. A breakup? Not this year. Not ever. He tries to think of more ways to tease Simon, but then his boyfriend’s lips are on his and his mind goes peacefully blank.

[kinkyniragi]

His whore – Chapter 2

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Smut 18+ Word count: 1k Summary: You have just started your job as a receptionist in a gentlemen's establishment when Thomas Shelby walks in and wants to use your services. In the blink of an eye, he dismisses both the counter and Lily, the brothel girl, leaving you alone with him in the finest suite the house has to offer. CN: Forced alcohol consumption, power play, degradation, dubious consent with Stockholm syndrome vibes. Please note that this is all just fantasy. Things that happen in my stories should always be consensual. Take care. Author’s note: After writing a lot of smut for Niragi from Alice in Borderland, I’m now diving into the world of Cillian Murphy. Feel free to leave comments and share my story if you enjoy it—I truly appreciate every bit of motivation to keep writing. Also, I’m not a native speaker, so if you spot any creative grammar choices…call them artistic liberties, ok?

***

When Thomas Shelby says you’re a whore, then you are one.

***

<<Chapter 1

The suite—Mr. Shelby instructed you to choose the best in the house—is dimly lit, the air carrying the scent of freshly laundered linens and aged leather. The glow of a single chandelier casts long shadows on the gold-trimmed wallpaper with a playful pattern of flowers and small hummingbirds. Whoever chose these wallpapers—they had a sense of humor.

The chaise lounge near the fireplace looks like the perfect spot to lose yourself in a good book. The scent of leather must be coming from it—practical, easy to clean. No, things far different from literature are indulged here, you think with a hint of cynicism.

The heavy curtains are drawn, allowing only a faint glow from the gaslit streets to seep through the gaps.

It’s a room made for secrecy—for desires played out behind locked doors.

At its heart stands a grand four-poster bed, its dark wooden frame solid and unyielding. You can’t help but recall the stories Lily and the other girls have told. Everything that has happened here before and will happen in the future… and now, whether you like it or not, you are part of it.

Mr. Shelby is behind you before you can think too much about it, his hands brushing your waist just as he begins to unbutton your blouse. He acknowledges your tension with a quiet, malicious laugh.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know how this works,” he whispers, letting your blouse slide to the floor.

Your breath hitches as his fingers almost casually find their way into your bra, accompanied by passionate kisses on your neck. His touches are surprisingly gentle and yet determined—like he enjoys seeing how long you’ll hold your composure.

No matter how hot he makes you, you can't shake the knowledge that you're about to become intimate with a cold-blooded criminal. Mr. Shelby picks up on your doubts, halting his intent to take you with unrelenting passion. He seems kind of annoyed when he pushes you roughly onto the chaise longue. You don't know if the cold leather or his look is responsible for the goosebumps all over your body.

“You look like a frightened little thing,” he hisses with a hint of anger, studying your face. So you were right with your feeling. “That’s no way to enjoy a night like this”, he continues, as if he were lecturing a little schoolgirl.

He walks towards an ornate side table where a decanter of fine whiskey and a pair of crystal glasses await. Without a word, he pours the amber liquid, the soft clink of glass against glass cutting through the thick silence. One drink is nudged toward you, an unspoken expectation hanging between you.

Your disapproving look speaks volumes.

“Drink,” he breaks the silence, voice smooth but edged with something firmer beneath. “It’ll help.”

You remain hesitant but quickly realize how pointless it is. His face is just inches away, his simmering impatience is palpable. His fingers brush the rim of his own glass before he lifts it to his lips, taking a deliberate sip. Then he nods toward yours again, followed by another glance at your untouched glass.

Reluctantly, you bring the glass to your lips, letting the sharp liquid burn its way down your throat. You can't help but cough at the alcohol’s intensity. Suddenly, Mr. Shelby, with almost boyish mischief, snatches your glass and tilts it against your mouth in one swift motion. You try in vain to wipe your lips with the back of your hand as some of the liquor escapes, trailing down your chin. Mr. Shelby has already turned away—to pour you another.

He hands you the glass again, now filled to the brim. “Go on. It’s just a drink. I’d rather you soften up on your own, but I won’t have you sitting there like a startled doe all night.”

You’ve barely eaten all evening—just a few peanuts you were meant to serve generously to guests, so they’d drink more. The burn lingers in your throat, and you can already tell how quickly this will go to your head. Hopefully, you'll stop him before he pours enough down your throat to leave you completely senseless. Or maybe that would be the better outcome. You’re not sure. So, you try to focus on keeping your composure and take another sip.

Mr. Shelby runs a hand through his hair as he watches you satisfied, then shrugs off his jacket, tossing it aside like none of this is a question, like he already knows the answer. Without hesitation, he moves to your skirt, undoing it with practiced ease. Before you know it, you're standing in nothing but your panties and thigh-high stockings. His gaze sweeps over your bare, vulnerable body, strict and assessing, and for a fleeting moment, you worry you might disappoint him —the man who has decided by force you’ll have to join his dirty pleasures. You feel a little silly and try to shove the thought aside.

You notice that he takes his time undressing you. You had pegged him for one of those impatient "Bend over and lift your skirt" types that Lily and the other girls always talk about. But you were wrong.

You glance up at him.

He smiles.

You feel relieved in a strange way.

"Now that’s how I like my little whore." He raises his glass in approval.

You take the gesture and drink again. The whiskey is starting to cloud your senses. Then, he begins unbuttoning his perfectly ironed shirt. His body is toned but not overly muscular, and the ink on his skin surprises you. You wouldn’t have expected him to have tattoos.

You are undeniably drawn to him. How much you wish this were a normal encounter—one where the tension between you, the not knowing what comes next, would leave a pleasant shiver in its wake because you could say no.

Instead, all you can do is hope that it will feel good, that he won’t hurt you. A foolish hope, considering who stands before you.

To be continued...

***

New to the Cillian party, so just let me know if you (don't) want to be tagged to my next stories!

@narlytude @cassandratyrellm @floweradroble1123 @whoreforzendaya @flowertoo2 @go-mimi30 @myheadspaceisuseless @softcaesar @queenv319 @qkiq @zita90 @aryannavspx @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @aradianti @egoluv @ailynkali @hrhfuturects @venvsfly @sweetsweet52802-blog @nana-bells @isabelaaaaraujo @allison7048 @whore4man @yslvtre @hanxuh @simp-for-bucky-barnes @oscengrim @gacrux @amberyalenka

@peakysgiri @cillianlove @clockworksficstoread @catnoodle32 @caroliciouss-world @nraschmnn @letsnini @dearrosary @mcookie @saintscreamworks @ch3esecak31 @moodyfries0 @liv1991 @bubulubu777 @sky3xx @star017 @yuki4545 @klxyn @zoeecita @poisonedteaa @angel-bat43 @persephonaoflove @schizoflm @sasha28x @thehuntressbailey @vzz1milloca @niamhgraham321 @mrs-bond @cloudofdisney @cillianssweet @tommyshelbysgoodgirl @kmc1989

@breakthestereo @jamesmcavoyfan1 @en0xx @notmalak2002 @syfixx09 @sherlockstolemyname @rachelljeann222 @mmfj14 @leialix @mayrapaulina28 @delulu-blog @ourlightsqueen @blogg-100 @westtimoooe @ncis0mrs0gibbs @falloutfiddler @epanimeton @niggette @itzzzchloeee @raisully15 @luvforsmut @xochizzl @babydollgutz @starstruckthingcat @sol-101 @bruhidkjustwannaread @tinyminxie @porcelaindollsvault @xsoftxsoundsx @cillliaannnnn

@prettycay23 @fourleafcloves-blog @mlioravanfleet @sunbeamseas @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @death-of-the-golden-days @amanda08319 @elysiannook @borntodiemp3 @cillshot @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @juleshadalittlelamb @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @milkpwuff @1-fuzzy-squirrels @iambored24601 @letixslvdr @untitleddd74 @iwantadilfplease @leomiloo @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @matilda-jone @bonahona @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @hunnibearrr @lunyyx @nadloves @mcavoy-girl @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @cherrycilly @victoriak01 @leviackermannsupremacy

@richiesgroupie @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @xcinnamonmalfoyx @buduguru-blog @smailaway @sophia @blondie-drawings @meadows58 @randomcreator-09 @hagarsays @kikimurphys @strangeobsessed @elya660 @i-love-batman @garciaa1996-blog @nemesis-writer @namjoonsloveforpop @nyxxie-pooh @theangelofbastogne @abb112095 @raesslitz @alussya99 @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @zanytalecherryblossom-blog @paulao1507-blog @lolitastories @kittenonpluto @littlecasperthewitch @thisnameistaken1234 @divine-death2 @fullygreen @amberrrrsblog @hottestgirlintheworld @lichi-dunkera @katerinahttps @ana73maria @smokinonthatza @hereforthefandoms12 @purple-umbrella-girl

@igotsoulbutimnotasolider @aethernallyyours @mytanuki-kun @fizzyboba @rpf-archival @galactict3a @kath-reviews @nymphadora7 @xerroe @bookloverfilmoholic @shopgirl6us @enretrogue @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @journalofmoonlight @slut4thebroken @beepitybeepboop @thefanficarchivee @kyeomcakes @your-nanas-love @renuzuy @kte-alxxndr @skydisneylover @psycheetamore @aias-fxtns @fuckiingloser @zablife @mischievouslittlecreature @peakyblindas @jbrownta

[msklassickilla]

Prada You 2 Chapter 1: Homecoming

Summary:

Three years have passed, but in city, the past never truly stays buried. The Prada Bois have grown stronger, their grip on the city unshaken. Old faces remain, new tensions rise, and the streets are more dangerous than ever.

Toya’s wedding should be a day of celebration, but for those who knew her, it’s something more—a gathering thick with whispers, with the weight of what was lost. Some wounds have scarred over, while others remain raw, unspoken.

Yet, the night brings a shift. A presence. A force that neither time nor distance could erase. The whispers start first, a low hum of disbelief that spreads like wildfire. Some things refuse to be forgotten. Some stories aren’t finished.

Because in this city, love, loyalty, and revenge all walk the same tightrope. And once the past steps forward, there’s no turning back.

Featuring: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye), Jacob Fatu x Kiyah, Sami Zayn x Natasha, Jimmy Uso x Nataya

Author’s Note: This story is set in a AU that takes place over summer in 2002. It has four original characters. If you come across this and haven’t read the first story, click here.  Again, I appreciate y’all for all the love and support. I hope I’m able to create something that’s worthy as Prada You.

Warnings: Some minor harsh language and age gap relationships.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 1: Homecoming

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft lines across Kiyah’s dresser as she focused on the curls framing her face. She held the flat iron steady, pressing another section while balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear. On the other end, Natasha muttered something about finding the right dress, her voice muffled as she rummaged through her closet. Nataya, on speaker, was already halfway through her second plate of breakfast, unconcerned about anything but the food in front of her.

“This dress might be too much?” Natasha finally said, irritation laced in her tone. “I don’t wanna outshine Toya, but I ain’t tryna look basic either.”

Kiyah smirked, releasing a curl from the iron. “You know damn well whatever you put on, you ain’t gonna look basic. Just pick something before you stress yourself bald, heifa.”

Natasha sucked her teeth. “First of all—”

“Second of all,” Kiyah cut in, “you bet not come in there lookin’ better than the bride. Granny Gale would whoop yo’ ass tryna upstage her child, and I ain’t stopping her.”

Natasha laughed, stepping back to eye herself in the mirror. “You right. She already told me don’t come in there showing out especially in God’s house.”

Toya had always been like a mother to them, taking them in as her own when their own families fell short. Today was her day, and none of them wanted to do anything but celebrate her happiness.

Still, the one person missing from the conversation sat in the air between them like a weight none of them wanted to acknowledge. Nyeya’s name wasn’t mentioned, though she had been on all their minds. She usually was. But some wounds cut too deep, and none of them wanted to be the first to peel back old scars.

So, they kept it light.

Kiyah checked the time and groaned. “Aight, I gotta go see if Jacob’s suit fits right. If he come in there looking like he stuffed in it, I’m leaving his ass at home.”

“That man swole as hell, Kiyah,” Nataya said through a mouthful of food. “He probably needed to go to the tailor.”

Kiyah smacked her lips. “Probably. Next time for sure we going to one. ‘Cause, I ain’t about to let him embarrass me in front of all those people. Let me go make sure he ain’t in here playin’.”

They said their goodbyes, the call ending with soft laughter before silence settled in Kiyah’s apartment.

She set her flat iron down and stretched, rolling out her shoulders before stepping into the hallway. The sound of Jacob’s voice carried from the living room—low, clipped, and already getting on her damn nerves.

She didn’t need to guess who was on the other end.

Marcy.

The last baby mama, the one who acted like her child gave her VIP access to Jacob’s entire life. Kiyah had been tired of her a long time ago, but Marcy stayed testing her patience.

Jacob turned as soon as Kiyah stepped in, catching the look she gave him—the one that said she was two seconds from snatching the phone out his hand and launching it across the room. He held up a free hand, signaling her to give him a minute.

Kiyah rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth, turning on her heel. She wasn’t about to let this ruin her mood. Not today. This was Toy’s day.

Back in the bedroom, she grabbed her foundation, tapping the brush against her palm before blending it into her skin with smooth, practiced strokes. Just as she moved onto her brows, Jacob walked in, phone put away, but the damage already done.

He sighed, running a hand over his beard. “Kiyah—”

“Don’t.” She didn’t even look at him, dragging the pencil along the arch of her brow.

Jacob exhaled, stepping closer. “She ain’t say nothin’ crazy, aight? She just—”

“She just always got somethin’ to say, Jacob,” Kiyah snapped, finally turning to face him. “She always got a reason to call. I ain’t signed up to be dealing with no delusional hoe who can’t take a hint that she’s not wanted.”

Jacob rubbed at his temples. “You gotta chill, Kiyah. That’s the mother of my child.”

“I don’t give a damn if she was the mother of the universe,” Kiyah shot back. “Handle her ass, Jacob. Before I do.”

Jacob shook his head, already knowing this wasn’t a battle he was going to win.

Kiyah turned back to the mirror, dismissing him without another word. He let out another sigh before walking off, leaving her to finish getting ready before her mood turned foul for real.

----

Across town, Natasha perched at her vanity, securing the last of her false lashes. Her hair was already pinned into a sleek updo, not a curl out of place. She leaned in, blinking at her reflection, making sure everything was perfect.

The front door opened and shut with a quiet click.

Sami.

She didn’t even have to ask. He had a key to her place, just like she had one to his. And she didn’t mind—not when he paid all the bills.

“I’m in here,” she called out, reaching for her lipstick.

Sami walked in, suit draped over his arm, eyes sweeping over her before he leaned in and kissed her, the warmth of his lips lingering at her temple. “Damn, babe. You look good.”

Natasha smiled, letting herself sink into his touch for just a second before refocusing on her reflection. Sami had done the impossible—he had broken down every one of her walls. She was in love with him, and for the first time in her life, she was all in.

He laid his suit across the bed before disappearing into the bathroom, the sound of water running filling the space. Natasha finished her makeup, satisfied, before slipping out of her robe. She had just stepped into her bra and panties when Sami came out, still damp from the shower.

He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her, taking his time as his eyes roamed over every inch of her. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, fingers grazing her waist as he pulled her against him.

Natasha knew that look.

“Sami, stop,” she warned, but he ignored her, pressing soft kisses right behind her ear, right where he knew she was weak.

She exhaled sharply, already starting to melt until her gaze flickered toward the clock.

Shit.

The wedding started at noon. It was already 10 a.m. They didn’t have time for this—especially when Sami wasn’t a one-round type of man.

She pressed a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back. “Not now, babe. We gotta go soon.”

Sami groaned, lips ghosting over her neck one last time before pulling away with an exaggerated sigh. “C’mon. I’ll make it quick.”

Natasha smirked, stepping into her dress. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Sami sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands together like a man about to collect a long-overdue debt. “That’s what you said last night,” he reminded her. “And we only got three rounds in ‘cause you said I was sweating out your hair.”

Natasha laughed, swatting at his arm. “Boy, stop it and get dressed.”

Sami only grinned, standing up and smacking her ass as he walked past. Natasha shook her head, still smiling as she finished getting ready.

They were gonna be late.

And if that wasn’t proof that Sami was bad for her, she didn’t know what was.

----

Nataya sat in bed, finishing off her breakfast. Jimmy had picked up Waffle House for her, something he’d been doing more often since her appetite had increased. He was downstairs in the living room, headset on, playing Xbox, the low murmur of his voice carrying up to the bedroom. It was how he decompressed.

Nataya slid out of bed, tossed her trash, and padded down the stairs. As she stepped into the living room, Jimmy felt her presence before she spoke, pausing his game just as she reached him. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his lap, kissing her slow.

“Damn, you taste sweet,” he murmured against her lips.

Nataya laughed, resting a hand on his chest. “I can’t take credit this time. That’s the waffle syrup.”

Jimmy smirked, but when she asked when he planned to get dressed, he just shrugged. “Soon.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing off his lap. “Alright, well, I’m gettin’ ready now.”

Back upstairs, she did her makeup, curled her hair, and slipped into a gray formal dress that hugged her body in all the right places. But when she turned to the mirror, her smile faltered.

Her fingers drifted down to the small pooch forming at her stomach.

Reality settled in. She was pregnant. Again.

Jimmy’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his hands settling over her belly. “This time, we gon’ get our baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “It’s a blessing, Taya.”

Nataya gave a tight smile, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jimmy had gotten her pregnant again on purpose.

----

She stood in front of the mirror in the small back room of the church where the bridesmaids gathered before the ceremony. She ran her hands down the sides of the baby blue gown that hugged all the new curves she had developed over the last few years.

She was nervous, unsure. But determined to stand strong. Her emotions were all over the place, but one thing was for certain—this too would pass.

She fiddled with the two loose strands of hair left out from her updo and adjusted the small bouquet of flowers within it.

A knock came, followed by a voice from the other side of the door. “You ready?”

She took a breath, then yelled back, “Yeah!”

She grabbed the bouquet sitting on the vanity, gave herself one last look in the mirror, and nodded. With a deep breath, she stepped out of the room.

----

The three couples stood outside the church, talking like they hadn’t just seen each other the weekend before. Jacob had an arm slung over Kiyah’s shoulder. Sami held Natasha’s hand. Jimmy sat on the hood of his car with Nataya in his lap, his hands resting on her stomach.

It was 11:45, and the church was filling up. After a quiet stretch of silence, none of them wanting to say what had been sitting on their minds, Jimmy finally asked if everyone was ready to go inside.

They nodded, heading in together. The six of them took up an entire pew, watching as the small white Baptist church on Waverly Drive filled with guests. Candles flickered, flowers decorated the altar, and a soft melody played in the background.

They all sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts. But one thing they could all agree on—something felt off.

----

Right at 12, the doors opened, and in came the immediate family of both the bride and groom. Toya’s mother and Bernice walked in together, hand in hand. While they had never openly acknowledged the romantic relationship they shared, most people knew what it was.

Once the family was seated, the music started to play. The groomsmen, including Nyeya’s brother Michael, the small ring bearer, and the groom, made their way down the aisle to K-Ci & Jojo’s "All My Life." Reggie could be seen crying as he walked, the emotion overwhelming him. At the front, he dabbed at his eyes with the handkerchief from his suit, shaking his head as he tried to pull himself together.

Then it was time for the flower girls—Toya’s nieces—who walked down the aisle to Monica’s "Angel of Mine." The guests cooed as the little girls scattered petals along the runner, their tiny faces set in concentration. And then came the bridesmaids.

Kiyah gripped Jacob’s arm. Natasha’s eyes widened in anticipation. Nataya turned completely in her seat to see the door clearly. The men beside them sat in silence, watching, waiting.

Six bridesmaids made their way down the aisle, each dressed in soft baby blue. Then, the doors shut again.

Nataya’s bottom lip trembled. Kiyah muttered, "Damn," under her breath, prompting Jacob to slap her leg in a quiet reminder that they were in church. Natasha could feel the tears pressing at the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill.

Then the doors opened again, just as Mary J. Blige’s "Everything" poured through the speakers of the church. Everyone stood, expecting to see the bride. But Toya had not yet come through.

Instead, there, in a single-strap baby blue dress with matching heels, stood Nyeya.

A ripple of disbelief spread through the room. The reaction was a mix of quiet gasps, whispered names, and hushed excitement. Kiyah bounced on her heels, barely able to contain herself. Natasha let go of the restraint she had been holding and let her tears fall freely. Nataya gripped onto Jimmy like he was the only thing keeping her upright.

Nyeya held her head high, her posture strong, but the emotion was clear in her eyes. Three years and eight months. That’s how long it had been since anyone had seen her. Some people cried. Some people whispered. Some even waved, as if trying to ground themselves in the moment.

She walked forward, her steps steady despite the lump forming in her throat. It was only when she reached the front that the doors opened once more.

Toya stepped through, draped in a white ballroom gown covered in shimmering gems, the fabric catching the light and making her appear as if she was glowing. She was radiant, the definition of a woman stepping into true, unconditional love. The sight of her mother looking so happy sent another wave of emotion crashing over Nyeya, but she stood firm.

As Toya made her way to the front of the church, Nyeya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep herself steady. She listened to the pastor’s words, the exchanging of vows, and finally, the kiss that sealed it all.

But her mind was elsewhere. She was home. For good. And she had no idea what lay ahead from this moment forward.

----

Thank you for reading!

Part 2.. (coming soon)

Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @nbanenefrmdao @queeny23 @punksyeet @partypoison00 @justazzi @southernpree @tian-monique @levissslutt @emotionalhottiee @blkgirlsneedlove2 @fafomama @bigjuiciisushii

[walkingnearfoxes]

The Right of the First Night (Homelander x Reader) - Part 2

I was talked into a sequel. 3.2k words. NSFW due to horny Homelander, questionable consent, and any HomelanderxReader fic should be NSFW tbh.

"Clean that shit up."

The Homelander leaves you where you were on the bed, closing the door behind himself and your husband. The last sight he had of you before leaving the bedroom, legs sprawled and tits rising with your labored breathing, deserved to be framed. That would be a fun thing to commission through Vought. But first things first.

He stands impatiently in the hallway as your husband scurries to the bathroom to wash his hands of his cum. When he's finished, the Homelander puts a hand on his shoulder to guide him down the hall and into the home office. He guides him with such a familiarity that an unknowing eye would think this was the Homelander's home, and not the other way around. 

The leader of the Seven stops your husband to stand in the middle of the office. He takes a moment to wander around the room as if he has all the time in the world. He notes the decorations with mild interest, chuckles at a framed award from Vought, and then looks back at your wide-eyed husband. He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, your heart rate’s like a hummingbird. I'm not gonna kill you. Don't think she would appreciate that very much."

Your husband swallows nervously and his hands twitch at his sides. "We won't tell anyone about this."

The Homelander snorts. "Of course you won't. That's not what we're here to talk about."

He steps closer and allows your husband to take a fearful step back. "Look, this is a unique situation. For you. You wouldn't believe the ladies dropping their panties for me after these galas. There was this one Fourth of July..." He drifts off momentarily, chuckles, then returns to the present. "Well. This is different. We're gonna be doing this again."

Your husband's face pales. "Again?"

“You a fucking parrot? Yes, again," The Homelander glances back at your bedroom and murmurs your name like a promise. "I don’t want her just once."

He looks back at your husband with a wide-mouthed grin. "It's your lucky day, pal."

He's entertained to see how quickly the fear in your husband's face shifts to anger. This man loves you so very much; it's cute. He even steps towards him, as if he had the slightest chance of causing a smidge of harm. "How is this lucky? My wife-"

"Your wife is on your bed drunk off my cock," The Homelander reminds him, his blue eyes glistening with a silent threat."I wouldn’t be surprised if you got sound complaints from her performance. You really think she's not gonna want to do this again?"

Your husband hesitates, and that's all the Homelander needs. He smirks and claps a hand on your husband's shoulder again. "Here’s the plan. I fuck your wife wherever I want, whenever I want." He pauses, shrugs his head back and forth and then continues. "Tell you what, I'll even have your salary raised for the trouble. You won't have to worry about expenses another day in your little lives. Deal?"

Your husband didn't make it this far in his career by being stupid. He knows there's no "deal" here. What Homelander wants, Homelander gets - and he wants you. Your husband will never say it aloud, but he knew this was coming. He knew it when the Homelander came to his office and commented on your picture on his desktop. He knew it when he saw the Homelander with you at the gala. Calling it a "deal" is a game that the supe immensely enjoys.

Your husband tells himself that he shakes the supe’s hand to keep you both safe. His agreement has nothing to do with the view he had of the Homelander fucking you on his bed.

~-~

You aren't mad at your husband. He didn't have a choice. That’s the phrase you both use when discussing this "arrangement." Neither of you had a choice, so you both quickly agreed to the Homelander's demands.

Those demands prove to be quite frequent. You never make it a week without the Homelander commanding for you. Sometimes, he'll call your husband when he's in a more patient mood. He’ll often just appear in your house to sate his appetites. The kitchen counter, the dining room table, the shower, your husband's desk - the Homelander is quickly using every home surface to make you scream for him.

He never forgets your husband. You figured out very quickly that this is part of the fun for him. The Homelander loves telling you to look at your husband while he's deep inside of you - and God help you if locking eyes with the love of your life across the room while the Homelander makes you come doesn't thrill you.

One morning, you're settling down for cereal when your phone buzzes. You glance down, raising a brow when your husband's number pops up. He had only left for work about 20 minutes ago. You read the text.

"His penthouse. 30 minutes."

You blink in surprise, your hand hovering over the phone before you send your reply.

"Isn't he in California?"

By this point, you were a connoisseur of Homelander news, and you could have sworn you saw him at a press conference in Los Angeles. Your husband connects that information with his following text.

"It didn't go well. Can you make it?"

Was the Homelander really able to fly so quickly that he's already back in New York? You had many logistical questions about his powers. You tried asking him about them once after three rounds in your bedroom. He started to answer you at the same time he curled three naked fingers inside of you. It wasn’t much of a conversation.

Back in the present, you let out a dry laugh at the phrase "can you make it.” Neither you or your husband had ever tried to deny the Homelander - mainly because you weren't sure you even could. Still, you kept up the pretense that you had agency as a couple or wouldn't come running when he called. You finish your breakfast, you feed the cat, you throw on a pair of jeans - the Homelander had commented more than once on how much he loved your ass in a pair of jeans - and you called a cab to Vought Tower.

You meet your husband outside of the Homelander's penthouse door. His smile is so gentle it almost hurts. He takes your hand and kisses your cheek. "You look beautiful."

You give him a gentle kiss in reply. "You get any work done today?"

"With the 20 minutes I had? No," He murmurs as he softly pulls you towards the door. "This...this is a bit more important."

He's raising his hand to knock, but the Homelander opens the door first. As always, he's in full uniform. You've only ever seen his hands or his cock out of costume. His hair is slightly disheveled, and when you glance inside, you see his balcony window is open. He must have flown in mere seconds ago.

"Finally," He mutters, stepping inside to allow you both in. "I'm gonna burn California to the fucking ground, I swear to God."

You glance at your husband, but step inside. It's not your first time inside of the penthouse. At first, it was bizarre to be fucked while surrounded by American memorabilia. You had trouble coming the first time, but the Homelander simply ate you out until that was no longer a problem. With your legs over his shoulders and your back against the floor-to-ceiling windows, you came next to a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt.

This time, the Homelander storms over to one of his couches. He has your husband's favorite coffee in a mug on the table. Nothing for you, but you have a feeling you won't be sitting for long. Still, as the Homelander sits with his legs spread and his arms along the back of the couch, you and your husband feel the need to sit on the sofa across from him. He seemed to favor a conversation before the fun began - as if he liked to imagine that all of this happened organically and not under a veiled threat.

"What happened?" Your husband asks as casually as he can. "I saw the Deep's ratings tank-"

"Don't even say that fucker's name," The Homelander growls and throws his head back. A few weeks ago, you would have been petrified at how bluntly he talks to your husband. Now, you've grown to realize that he enjoys talking to your husband on some level. He treats him almost like a colleague - a colleague who's wife he gets to fuck whenever he wants.

"You know why we were in California, right?" Homelander asks your husband.

Your husband frowns, maybe in concern or maybe in thought. "Promoting environmental conservation?"

"Save the god damn turtles," Homelander confirms with a dismissive scoff. "Vought needs the best superheroes in the world to stop people throwing their condoms in the fucking ocean? Give me a break."

He reaches down for his belt and undoes it while he continues to talk. "I'm trying to wrap up this waste of a PR stunt when the Deep starts going on and on about dolphins. Dolphins. God, I should've fried him on the spot. We all know he just wants to fuck them in the blowhole. Fucking idiot."

The Homelander's cock is fully out and in his hand now. He strokes it leisurely, one arm still lazily thrown along the back of the couch. He rolls his eyes before locking his gaze back on your husband. "Give it to me straight. How are his numbers?"

Your husband doesn't dare look down at the Homelander’s dick and God bless him, tries to keep his voice as steady as possible. "He...his percentages are up by about five percent in California but are starting to fall in the Midwest."

"Good," Homelander then looks at you for the first time since you arrived. "Get over here, sweetheart. I need that mouth."

You stand up slowly, but immediately. You kneel between his spread legs, your hands instinctively moving to rest on his upper thighs. You don't notice his slight grin at the casual contact. His fingers thread through your hair and he pushes you forward. He doesn't rush; his strength is a guide you can not ignore - even if you wanted to. You open your mouth and his cock settles against your tongue. He lets out a low growl of relief as you suck down. Without further prompting, you bob along with him at the slower pace you know he enjoys. He prefers his blowjobs to be slow and savory, or an absolute ravaging of your mouth that leaves your voice weak. Today, you judged his needs correctly, as his fingers sit curled in your hair. He lets you set the pace while he continues to chat with your husband.

"How are my numbers?" He asks. "I saw a dip southeast."

"That's taken care of," Your husband replies quickly. His voice dropping lower is the only indicator that he's watching his wife blow his boss. "It was a glitch."

Homelander's glove in your hair tightens, though he continues to let you choose the pace. "A glitch?"

Your husband speaks slower now as he chooses his words more carefully. "We have some new employees that coded the numbers incorrectly."

"What dumbass-Jesus Christ," He curses as you purposefully bring his cock as deep into your mouth as you can go. His irritation immediately fades to a grin, and he looks down at you. "You're gonna choke on me if you're not careful, honey."

You open your eyes to look up at him, and you're rewarded with his lips gently parting at the sight. He loves your eyes.

"How did you two meet?" The Homelander asks. You assume he's addressing your husband with your mouth so busy.

You can't see your husband, but you can hear his voice becoming strained. "A dating app."

"No shit," Homelander laughs as his hand begins to guide your movements. "Were you just looking for a good fuck?"

It takes a moment for your husband to respond. "It started casual, but-"

"But you couldn't stay away, huh?" Homelander chuckles darkly as he continues to watch you bob along his cock. "I don't blame you, pal. A lady that can suck dick like this is hard to keep away."

Without warning, he thrusts hard into your throat. You gag, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip on the back of your head holds firm. You look up at him with panicked eyes as you choke, but he just gives you a gently shush. "Through the nose, baby," He purrs gently. "C'mon, we've been working on this."

You still fight for a moment on instinct, but you may as well not have moved at all with his grip on you. With little other choice, you still and breathe in through your nose. You see his grin through your eyelashes. "Atta girl."

He abruptly pulls you off of him and watches fondly as you gasp for air, your hands still clenched onto his thighs. When your breathing begins to even out, he tugs sharply at your hair. "Strip. Now."

He must've liked the clothes you picked; usually, he would have just torn them off. You strip yourself bare, tossing your clothing behind you. You use the opportunity to glance at your husband. Even from across the room, you see the tent in his trousers, but he isn't touching himself. Sometimes, and increasingly more often, he just likes to watch.

The Homelander's hand on your hip guides your attention back to him, and he gently pulls you to stand between his legs. Without warning, he uses his free hand to cup your cunt. The heel of his palm presses to your clit as two gloved fingers slip inside of you. You gasp loudly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders.

"Fuuuuck," Homelander growls as he fingers you. He slides them out of you slowly but thrusts them inside, hitting that delectable spot inside of you that makes your legs quiver. "You've been soaked since you got here. You've been waiting for this, huh? Has our little cuck kept you waiting for this?"

His fingers speed up. His hold on your hip is the only thing keeping you upright. You open your mouth to reply, but cut yourself off with a moan. "Y-yes, he has..."

It's true. As your sessions with Homelander have increased, sex with your husband has started to decrease. Again, that unspoken language seems to exist between the two of you. Each of you ache for these moments with the most dangerous man in the world, and the waiting makes it more delicious.

The Homelander smirks and angles his thumb to press directly to your clit. "Do you like that? The waiting?"

You nod eagerly. "God, yes."

He abruptly removes his hand and chuckles at your whine of disapproval. He pats his thigh. "No more waiting, pumpkin. Come sit on Daddy's cock."

You don't hesitate. You shift your balance forward to straddle him and slowly sink yourself onto him. His smile widens to show teeth as you cry out in pleasure; you don't wait for his word before you start riding him slowly as you adjust to his size.

"That's it, take what you need..." He purrs and leans forward to brush his lips along your neck. He finds your most sensitive spot with ease and bites down, his sharp teeth digging in enough to make you wheeze. He soothes the bite with his tongue, humming quietly against your skin before coming off with a pop. "There you go, a pretty little hickey to remind you who you belong to."

He moves both his hands to your hips, but does nothing to help you. As you ride him, he looks over your shoulder at your husband. "Who's the asshole that fucked up the numbers?"

Damn it. He hadn't forgotten.

When your husband hesitates, Homelander lands a smack on your ass hard enough to bruise. You gasp loudly, unconsciously clenching down on him. He grunts and tightens his grip on your hips as he keeps on talking to your husband. "Whoever the fuck they are, you're firing them. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Your husband says immediately.

Homelander thrusts up into you. "You’re both too damn noble, you know that? Protecting noname fucktards?" He wraps a hand in your hair and tugs you down to level your face with his. "They wouldn't do that for you. The only one who can protect either of you is me."

You reply by kissing him hungrily. It's a mess of a kiss with the taste of him still on your lips, and you feel him stiffen in surprise. But then, he kisses you back with an intensity that takes your breath away. He flips you like you weigh nothing, your back landing on the couch. He's over you an instant with one hand groping your breast and the other curling around your throat.

"You're mine," He growls, low and heated, as he thrusts his cock back into you. He sets a relentless pace that has you keening and arching into him; it's an inhuman assault to that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

"Go ahead and come, baby," He purrs against your lips. "You're allowed."

You whimper, and with a few more thrusts, you climax. Your legs quiver around his hips, and it's enough for Homelander to finish along with you. He murmurs your name like a prayer against your lips, his hand lightly squeezing your throat as he works you both through the climax.

"God, I needed that," He mutters. He sits up slowly and looks down at you, his expression almost fond. "You alright?"

You shakily nod as you rest your feet on the couch. "I can't feel my legs."

Homelander chuckles and slowly pulls out of you, both of you letting out a quiet grunt at the release. "Go shower," He says, gesturing lazily down the hall with a wave of his hand. "We're not done yet."

You nod and slowly stand up. He lands another hard smack against your ass that nearly has you stumbling forward. You don't dare turn around when he laughs and instead limp your way to his luxurious shower.

Homelander keeps his eyes on you until you disappear into the bathroom. "She's on birth control, right?"

Your husband, fully hard, nods his head. "Y-yes."

Homelander's face is unreadable. The twitch of his smile could easily mean he's relieved or disappointed. "Well, wouldn't be the first time that meant fuck all...does she like it up the ass?"

Your husband sputters. "S-she-"

"How are you still getting so nervous around me, buddy?" Homelander laughs as he stands up and tucks himself back in his pants. "Haven't I earned a little trust here? I'll never do something she doesn't like."

He folds his hands behind his back and tilts his head. "Now, you go fire that little cocksucker in analytics. Think I'll go check on the Mrs."

[legendarycherryblossomlove]

Welcome to Talk with Blossom Delusional edition. Where I yap about some headcanons about transformers. This is the NSFW version. The SFW version will come soon.

Today we have...

SKIDS!

.

.

.

•Having a theoritician partner is something unexpected. Skids is a fast learner, always up for anything new and is ready to open up new ideas when fighting.

•Oh boy, when it comes to interfacing. Skids can either be a rough or soft dom depending on his mood. If he's stressed out, he would go rough. But if he isn't, he would go soft.

•He's into bondage mostly. So he would tie you up while tracing every seam of your frame as you were strapped down, lookin pretty for him. He LOVES seeing you so vulnerable under those ropes...

•And if this is your first time, foreplay and oral is needed so you can take every inch of his spike. He would go so gentle, biting his lower lipplate as if holding back his desire to pound you. After all, he wants everything to go according to his plan. Soft and Gentle interfacing.

•But once you got used to it, he would still do foreplay and oral but only a minimum of time, this mech's patience always wearing thin whenever it comes to pounding you.

•His most favourite poses are Cowboy and Missionary. He likes seeing his spike deep inside of you, glowing in your stomach like a flashlight shining through a dense clothing.

•For aftercare/ after the interfacing, he would immediately ask you if you were okay. Then would tell that you did such an amazing job and call you affectionate pet names.

•"You did so well, my love." "I didn't go too hard, did I, my little dove?" "I love you so much, darlin'."

•During aftercare, he would shower you with kisses and affectionate headpats. He would then carries you to the washracks where an oil bath is waiting for the both of you.

.

.

I love my man Skids.

[somefanchick]

-Kalim’s Love Language-

(This story is from Kalim's perspective anytime after the events of book four, but before book five. This does somewhat allude to events within one of the anthology books. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. I own no images. This fic is platonic and is cannon for my Yuu-sona, but I do just call them (Yuu) in the story [they/them]. Hope you enjoy!)

{I have been low-key fixating on love languages so I will probably do a headcannon dump later. :) }

“Love language?” I looked at Silver from his place across the table. 

I had gotten Riddle, Silver, and Ruggie together for another study session while Jamil was practicing for his big game at the end of the week. I wasn’t the biggest fan of studying so we got off track as soon as Riddle went to the bathroom. We somehow got on the topic of ‘love languages’, something that apparently Silver’s father had mentioned to him while having the ‘partner talk’, whatever that means.

“Yes, father said that there were five of them and while people typically like all of them, many people have a strong preference for a few of them,” He leaned back, “It’s just labeling how you show and receive love and care. While it’s typically romantic, it also applies to platonic and familial relationships.”

I leaned forward, “Really? So I have one?”

“No duh,” Ruggie spoke up as he finished the pastry I had bought him, “Your biggest one is obvious.”

“Really? What is it?” I smiled in anticipation.

Ruggie just stared before eyeing the bag the pastry had come in, “Gift-giving. Duh.”

“Really?” I tilted my head, “But if I have the ability to get you something you really need or want then why wouldn’t I give it to you? I’m not doing anything special.”

“I believe,” Silver interjected, “that it’s that attitude that makes it one of the biggest ways of showing care.”

“Yeah, plus-” Ruggie began chewing on another pastry I had bought, “Is there anyone on campus you haven't given something to?”

“I mean,” I really thought about it, “I haven’t really given anything to (Yuu).”

“What are we talking about?” Riddle rejoined the group.

“Love languages,” I smiled, “Apparently these guys think gift giving is my biggest one, but I haven’t even given anything to (Yuu).”

“That’s because it’s (Yuu),” Riddle sat at the table, “You can’t just give them things.”

That captured my interest, “What do you mean?” 

“(Yuu) refuses anything they consider ‘charity’,” He rearranged the stationary and homework on his side of the table, “You always have to frame it as ‘repayment’ or something like that. They're stubborn like that. The only way we’ve been able to get things to them is by saying that ‘Trey made too many’ or ‘I was just going to throw this away’ or ‘I’m repaying you for something you did’. They’d never accept anything from you, Kalim.” 

Something sparked inside my stomach.

Ruggie sighed, “Now you’ve done it.”

The feeling bubbled inside me.

This caused Riddle to tilt his own head, “Done what?”

I knew what I had to do.

“By the way,” Ruggie pointed at Silver, “Silver fell asleep like two minutes ago.”

What would (Yuu) want? That was a good question. They never asked for anything other than ‘peace and quiet’ or for people to ‘shut up and stop being stupid’. None of which were gifts. 

I found myself looking out for them. Waiting for them to say something about wanting or needing something. Though it never happened. They never even complained or anything of the sort. They gave most of her lunch to Grim and the only things they bought when they went to Sam’s were for Grim, Ace, and Deuce. I thought about stepping in to pay for that stuff, but that felt like a cheap way out. I was determined to get something for (Yuu) themself.

Maybe (Yuu) would want something to improve Ramshackle. From what I could tell they spent almost all of their time there. The trouble would be figuring out what wouldn’t be ‘charity’. Riddle said that anything I gave (Yuu) they would think it was ‘charity’. So what would be the difference between a ‘gift’ and ‘charity’? Maybe practicality? (Yuu) did seem to gravitate towards practical stuff. 

“You’re the best henchmen ever!” I snapped to reality as Grim cheered. 

The two had clearly just come from Professor Crewel’s class and were now sitting on the railing in the exterior hallways. Grim was holding a quiz paper with a large ‘A-’ circled in red at the top. 

(Yuu) rolled their eyes, “All I did was tell you my method for memorizing the ingredients of a Fire-Protection Potion. You’re the one that actually put the work in. That’s not my A minus, that is completely on you.”

“So,” Grim was beaming, “That means you think I did a good job?”

“I guess it does,” They smirked, “Congrats weasel.”

“I’m not a weasel!” Despite the protest I could tell he was happy with (Yuu)’s words. 

Silver appeared beside me, “Hey Kailm. What are you doing?”

“I’m still trying to figure out what to get (Yuu),” I pointed at the Ramshackle pair, “But right now it looks like Grim got an A! He’s so happy, especially when (Yuu) told him he did a good job.”

Silver shrugged, “Maybe that’s one of his love languages,” he elaborated, “‘Words of Affirmation.’ Some people really like being told that they are cared for or that they are doing a good job. And many people like to express their love verbally.”

“Oh!” I beamed, “I get it! I like hearing that too. That's why I tell others how well they’re doing. ‘Cus if it makes me feel happy, I’m sure it works on others.”

Silver smiled, “Checks out. Though I can tell (Yuu) has a hard time accepting or giving out praise.”

“Really?” I watched (Yuu) closely as she kept their eye on Grim, “Why would anyone not want to be told they are amazing?”

“Well,” Silver tried to hold back a yawn, “Maybe that’s just not how they like it. (Yuu) is hard to read.”

“Well I understand that much,” I sighed, “it’s been two days and I couldn’t tell you a single thing they could want.”

I had almost forgotten that Jamil was coming to pick me up, “Come on Kalim, you’ve got a housewarden meeting.”

“Alright,” I smiled, “Keep an eye on them for me Silver, if they want anything I’ll need you to tell me.”

Silver had fallen asleep.

Maybe I needed to take a more direct approach. However, I still wanted to reserve some surprises. So I decided to approach Ace and Deuce. (Yuu) spent so much time with them that they had to know something they would want. 

“Ace! Deuce!” I ran over to the freshmen while they laid in the courtyard, “Glad to catch you when (Yuu)’s not here. I have a question.”

“Why when (Yuu)’s not here?” Ace snapped his fingers as he sat up, “Oh is this about the love language thing Riddle mentioned?”

“Yeah, getting (Yuu) a gift-” Deuce sighed, “If you could figure out how to give it to them without tricking them then I'd be in your debt.”

Ace rolled his eyes, “They're stubborn. They’ll only take snacks from us if we bring them to movie night.”

I tilted my head, “You all have movie nights?”

“Oh yeah,” Deuce smiled, “We spend as much time at Ramshackle that Trey will allow us to. I think they enjoy the company, though they’d never say it. Plus it gives us all kinds of opportunities to try and slip them something they need but won’t get themselves.”

Ace pointed at his friend, “Remember when you tried to get (Yuu) to take one of your winter coats so you left it in the dorm over winter break. Only for them to give it back to you completely untouched when we came back?”

“You say that as if you didn’t do the same thing,” Deuce crossed his arms, “And then you decided to rent a horror movie to get back at them.”

“No! I just wanted a horror movie,” The redhead was almost pouting, “Besides, I didn’t see you complain when (Yuu) agreed to play a boardgame with us afterwards. What was your excuse again? ‘So I keep myself from having nightmares’.”

Deuce pouted, “Shut up Ace.”

I couldn't hold in my chuckle, “You have boardgame nights too? And (Yuu) likes them?”

“Yeah, I mean they stay,” Ace smiled, “Besides, I’d be able to tell if they were really bothered by us hanging around them all the time.”

Silver walked over, “I believe father called that one ‘Quality Time’.”

“Silver?” I smiled, “‘Quality Time’?”

“Basically means you like to be around the people you care about,” He sat on the well wall, “Could be talking with them about random things or simply sitting in silence. It’s just the fact you’re spending time together.”

“I love spending time with people,” Deuce stood up, “Makes me feel happy.”

Ace joined him standing, “You are such a sapp.”

“Oh shut it,” Deuce shoved him lightly, “You say that like you don’t like it too.”

“You mentioned they needed a coat?” I tried my best to focus, though it wasn’t easy, “Maybe I could get them one.”

“No point,” Ace shrugged, “If they wouldn’t accept one from us, there’s no way they’ll take one from you. Plus, now it’s not even cold enough to need one.”

“Right,” I bit my lip, “I’ll keep thinking about it. Thanks for your help.”

“Sliver down!” Ace rushed to catch the boy before he fell in the well, Deuce right beside him.

(Yuu) spent the next week working on some project for the headmaster. He had instructed them to take photos of some of the clubs in their ‘uniforms’. When they came to my club I took it as an opportunity to see if I could figure out what they might want. 

“Kalim,” (Yuu) interrupted my train of thought, “Let me fix that. You don’t want to look like a mess on camera.”

They began fixing my collar and beanie, focusing mostly on the collar. 

“Alright,” They finished with my collar and turned, “You’re next Cater. Once I get you all sorted I’ll let you play a few sets and snap some photos.”

They moved to work on Cater on the other side of the room. 

Lilla appeared at my side, “Now that’s a good example of ‘Acts of Service’.”

“Oh,” I smiled at the junior, “did Silver tell you about those love languages too?” 

He giggled, “We did have a conversation about them.”

“What does ‘Acts of Service’ mean?” I sat on my drum throne.

“Well,” He grabbed my drumsticks and handed them to me, “It means showing your care through helping others. Big things, like helping in dire situations. Or even small things, like making sure you look good in a picture.”

“So like how they were fixing my collar?” I lit up, “Or helping with Jamil’s overblot?”

“I’m sure some of that might have been out of necessity,” He put his hand to his mouth to hide his smirk, “But (Yuu) does let some of their care slip through the cracks. I’d reckon that ‘Acts of Service’ is one of their main love languages,” He then focused on me, “Say, Silver mentioned you were trying to find a gift for (Yuu).”

I leaned forward, “Do you have an idea?”

“Personally I’m a fan of catering to the other person’s love language, but when that can’t be done,” He closed his eyes to smile, “Then maybe try just giving something from the heart. They can’t say no then. Though I suppose that’s pretty cheesy.”

“Hm,” I watched (Yuu) as she finished working with Cater, “Yeah. Maybe.”

I picked something out. I honestly don’t know if they’ll like it. I just saw it in town when I went out with Rook and Epel. I just locked eyes with it and thought of (Yuu). So I bought it. That leads me to now. Jamil was at Basketball practice, so I thought it would be the best time to visit them alone. I knocked on the door.

“Hello?” (Yuu) opened the door looking dead on their feet, “Kalim? What are you doing here?”

“(Yuu)!” I kept smiling, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” They opened the door, “Grim’s not here. It’s just me.”

“Well that’s good,” I came in, “Because I came here to see you.”

“Me?” (Yuu) led me towards the lounge, “What could you possibly want with me? If it is a favor then I’ll have to ask you to take a number. Crowely has me booked.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that,” I had kept the box behind my back, “I just wanted to-”

“Shoot, I forgot I have to-” suddenly (Yuu) stumbled, I immediately dropped the gift on one of the plush chairs and grabbed their shoulders.

“Are you okay?” I guided them to sit on the sofa with me, “Is now a bad time?”

“It’s fine,” they were struggling to keep their eyes open, “I’ve just been working hard with class and Crowely. Plus my insomnia’s been flaring up again. Don’t fuss over me. I’m fine.”

“I don’t think-” before I could finish my thought, I heard a light snore from my side. 

(Yuu) had fallen asleep. Their head soon landed on my shoulder and their snoring faded into the sound of breathing calmly. I had never seen them so peaceful. They almost seemed like they were leaning into my touch so I slowly shifted them rest in my arms. 

I had almost completely forgotten about the box on the chair. It was a book about the history of the Scalding Sands. I had seen them reading random history books and other non-fiction in the library or around campus, so I thought they might appreciate it. Plus I was going to give it with the promise to let them visit some time. I’m sure they’d want to see as much of the world as possible, seeing as they weren’t from here. 

That seemed unimportant now. They seemed much too tired to do anything except stay in my arms. I remembered the last love language Sliver had explained to me, ‘Physical Touch’, showing care through physical affection or touch. I think I realized in that moment that despite how prickly (Yuu) seemed, that was probably their biggest love language. Just like how gift giving is mine.