#I usually just watch the same shows a million times

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 4

paige x azzi

warning: fighting, blood

word count: 9.7k

a/n: honestly only got this out because i barely slept a lick last night so here’s to delusional writing at 3am! this chapter has the long awaited fight. let me know what you think or leave a comment if you can, i love reading them honestly. thank you for always reading 🫶🏼

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The door of Paige’s gym creaked open with the sharp jingle of the bell Cam annoyingly put up that Paige still hadn’t bothered to take down. Paige didn’t look up at the sound, her gloves continued to thud into the heavy bag in sharp, rhythmic bursts.

“Yo,” Cam said, her voice echoing through the mostly dark gym. “You live in here these days?”

Paige kept her same rhythm for a few more hits before she stopped, breathing heavily as she grabbed her towel that was thrown to the side. “What do you want?”

Rickea offered her usual input saying, “Wow. You’re so warm tonight.”

“It’s late,” Paige mumbled, rubbing her forearm across her forehead.

Rae wandered toward the wall of gloves and pads, curious about the gym she had never seen before. “This your little batcave?”

“Something like that,” Paige said, eyes flicking toward what she was messing with on the back wall before looking away.

Cam looked back at Paige. “We were at the facility late. Figured we’d come check on you before your fight.”

“You checked. I’m alive,” Paige said flatly, taking off her gloves with a quick tug.

Azzi trails in just them, seemingly having finished handling a phone call. She held the door long enough to keep it from slamming behind her and she didn’t say anything at first. She just walked in quietly, her eyes drifting to Paige as she did.

Paige’s eyes flicked to her for a second, lingering just slightly before she looked away.

Rickea wandered past Paige, picking up a mitt and making a show of putting it on like she was going to do something with it. “You actually training or just stress-punching?”

“Both,” Paige replied dryly.

“You need a target? Rae’s here.” Cam playfully offered.

“No.”

Azzi stayed quiet, but Paige glanced back toward her again, longer this time.

Azzi didn’t say anything, she tilted her head to the side slightly and gave her a look. Paige mirrored it without much expression somehow.

Cam interrupted the moment without realizing it when walked over and stood in front of Paige giving her a once-over. “You look lighter.”

“I lose anymore and I’ll disappear,” Paige mumbled.

The others started to wander around the space—Rickea trying on gloves and Rae asking Cam a million questions. Azzi leaned against the far wall, just watching Paige mess with her hand wraps again.

“You sleep at all?” Azzi asked, quietly, just enough for her to hear.

Paige’s hands didn’t pause, but she answered with a small shrug. “Some.”

“Eat?”

“Some.”

Azzi squinted her eyes at her. “Lie better.”

Paige’s mouth twitched at this, almost a smile, a tiny smirk maybe. Paige didn’t respond instantly, but when she finally glanced up, her eyes held a softness.

“I’m alright, forreal,” she said.

Once her wrap was suitable to her liking she slipped her gloves back on and started hitting the bag again. It wasn’t with the same force, but seemed more controlled and the gym echoed with each snap of her gloves to the bag.

The others continued to mill around, talking quietly between themselves, occasionally throwing out a comment toward Paige that she barely acknowledged.

After about 10 minutes Paige’s fists slowed again and she walked over to her water that was sitting on a bench, her gaze landing on Azzi first before anywhere else.

She stood slightly to the side of where Azzi was standing. “Ready for your game?”

Azzi nodded, shifting her weight against the wall. “Yeah. It’s Golden State, so…”

Paige unscrewed the bottle, taking a long drink, before glancing at her again with a faint smirk. “Easy win?”

Azzi laughed. “Should be. If we don’t fuck around.”

Paige’s eyes lingered on her before she looked down, screwing the cap back on her bottle.

“You weigh in tomorrow, right?” Azzi asked.

Paige nodded. “Yeah like 10AM.”

“You close?”

“1 or two pounds out,” Paige replied. “Water cut’ll handle it.”

Azzi smiled at her a little before saying, “You say that like it’s casual.”

Paige shrugged, wiping her hands down her thighs. “It is. Just part of it.”

Azzi didn’t press the topic, just gave her a look that said she wasn’t entirely buying it, but she'd let her have it for now. Paige looked back toward the bag, then back at Azzi. “Appreciate you checking, though.”

Azzi smiled again saying, “Of course.”

After their short conversation the gym settled into a quietness, Rae was scrolling on her phone near the cage, Rickea was recording a TikTok, and Cam was eyeing the small fridge Paige had in there like she was trying to will actually food into it.

“So what time’s weigh-in?” Cam called across the gym.

“Ten,” Paige answered without looking up, her response clipped.

“That’s lowkey nasty,” Rickea muttered. “You really just gotta let people stare at you while you stand on a scale in your underwear.”

Paige nodded saying, “Pretty much.”

“You into that?” Rae asked, teasing her a little.

“No.”

Cam changed the subject saying, “You ever think about trying to get them to let you fight somewhere fun? Like in Miami or something? I’d fly in like three days early for that.”

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. “Great.”

Cam narrowed her eyes at Paige’s answer. “Okay, so we don’t get real sentences tonight, noted.”

“No.”

Rickea’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t even pretend to be nice.”

Azzi, still leaning against the wall with her arms folded, smiled behind the water bottle she had grabbed. Paige passed by her, dropping her phone on the bench, and Azzi waited a second before asking, “When are you heading to Vegas?”

Paige paused, then said, “Early tomorrow. It’s a short flight. Forty-five minutes maybe.”

Her tone was different—more open, barely noticeable but enough that Cam, who’s known her since they were kids, looked up like she’d caught something worth noting.

“Why only go the day before?” Azzi asked.

“If I go too early, I overthink. Just wanna keep my rhythm and stay in my gym as long as I can.”

“That’s smart,” Azzi said.

Cam blinked and mumbled to Rickea, “Why do we only get grunts but Azzi gets full sentences?”

Rickea crossed her arms. “I didn’t even get a hello today.”

Rae didn’t look up from her phone. “Y’all ever think maybe she just doesn’t like us?”

“Definitely feels personal,” Cam added, squinting toward Paige and Azzi.

“You already packed?” Azzi asked.

Paige shook her head. “Nah. I’ll toss some stuff together when I go in the house.”

“That’s bold,” Azzi responded, a little amused by Paige’s disorganization.

“I like pressure.”

“Clearly.”

Rickea watched the exchange. “Is she flirting? I feel like she’s flirting.”

Cam squinted toward them, her arms crossed as she watched. “I can’t tell.”

Rae let out a mock sigh, fake pouting. “She’s never flirted with me.”

Rickea turned towards her. “That’s ‘cause you probably actually like her. Don’t think she’s interested bookie.”

Rae looked offended. “Me and Azzi look alike.”

Both Rickea and Cam replied at the exact same time, “No you don’t.” But it was Paige, still across the gym, who also said it dryly, like it slipped out before she could catch it, that got a reaction out of everyone. “No, you don’t.”

Cam and Rickea laughed, Azzi smiled, and Rae mumbled, “Rude,” under her breath.

Paige didn’t even blink. “Just being honest.”

Rae narrowed her eyes at Paige. “You’re lucky you hit people for a living.”

“I’m sure I am,” Paige said plainly, finally looking over with the faintest trace of amusement on her face.

Rickea laughed and leaned into Rae. “Don’t worry, I still think you’re pretty Rae Rae.”

“That makes one of you,” Rae grumbled.

Cam shook her head and laughed before she clapped her hands together once. “Alright, we should leave the scary girl alone now.”

“Thank God,” Paige mumbled, putting her gloves back on.

Cam rolled her eyes as they turned to leave. “See you on fight day, Paigey.”

Paige ignored her completely. As the four of them made their way to the door, Azzi hung back just half a step, glancing over her shoulder. “Bye, Paige.”

Paige’s hands paused for a moment before she looked up. “Bye.”

Then she dropped her gaze again, flexing her fingers before throwing another punch into the bag like none of them had ever been there. But Azzi smiled to herself all the way out the door.

…

On the day of the fight the plane ride to Nevada was smooth. Between some of the LA Sparks players and Paige’s family, Paige’s jet felt full. Small conversations came and went in pockets, laughter from Rae here and there, quiet murmurs between Azzi and Cam, Rickea sharing a row with Paige’s younger brother Drew, the two of them playfully arguing about who knows what.

By the time they arrived in Las Vegas, there wasn’t any time for wandering around or settling in besides dropping their bags off at the hotel. The venue the slated fights were scheduled in was already pulsing with life, every corridor buzzing with preparation. When they got there security ushered them through the back entrance, down a narrow hallway that led to the fighter’s wing.

When they got to Paige’s room she was in the far corner of the room, her legs wide, forearms resting on her knees as she focused on the wrap in her lap. Her headphones were in her ears. She didn’t look up and acknowledge anyone when they entered.

Not her dad, who had his arms crossed near the door. Not her mom, who excitedly moved toward her before hesitating when her daughter didn’t even glance up. Not her younger siblings who were wide-eyed but staying close to one another.

Paige was threading wrap around her left hand with practiced efficiency and the wrap unrolled in clean pulls. Her knuckles already tight underneath. Her mouth moved slightly, like maybe she was counting, maybe repeating something to herself.

There wasn’t an ounce of anything playful in her energy tonight. No dry humor. No clipped sarcasm.

The door swung open with a sharp creak before a loud, animated voice cut through the quietness of the room. “Alright, who missed me?”

Paige’s trainer, Marcus, stepped in like he owned the place, slapping a hand against the doorframe as he walked in. His outgoing energy filled the space immediately, his sneakers squeaking slightly as he made his way in with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and mitts hanging from his hands.

Paige gave him the briefest glance before looking right back down, finishing the final wrap on her right hand.

“She locked in?” Marcus grinned to himself. “Good. It’s what I like to see.”

The others gave him small nods, acknowledging his presence, but no one tried to break the energy Paige had centered herself in. Her family had gathered near the corner of the room, speaking in hushed tones. Cam, Rae, and Rickea stood closer to the wall, watching the card before Paige’s play out on the TV screen bolted in the corner. Azzi lingered by the wall as well, her arms folded. Every so often her eyes would move between Paige and the broadcast.

When Paige finally tied off the wrap and flexed her hand, she stood up and grabbed her gloves. Her neck rolled to the side, left, then right, until a soft pop echoed in the room. She put on her gloves then crossed the floor until she was near Marcus who was already slipping the mitts on.

“You look calm,” he said, nodding in approval.

“I am.”

“You’ve seen the tape. You know what she’s coming in with.”

“She’s coming in hot,” Paige said, nodding. “Gonna try to take my head off in the first two minutes.”

“And you?”

“Imma let her.”

Marcus raised his eyebrow.

“Wear herself out a little. If she swings like I think she will, she’ll gas out before the third.”

He nodded at her thought process. “Smart. But if it gets ugly—if I don’t like what I’m seeing—I’m pulling you.”

Paige shook her head. “You pull me and you’ll need a new job before I step outta the cage.”

He paused his movements.

“I’m serious,” Paige said. “Don’t throw the towel. I know what I can handle and I’ll pull myself if I need to.”

Marcus, always needing to be the practical one on fight days, stared at her. His eyes tracking her demeanor for a few seconds he let out a slight exhale and mumbled, “Alright.” He brought his hands up. “Let’s move.”

Paige nodded her focus shifting as her first punch snapped against the mitt.

…

The muffled yelling of the crowd seeped through the walls as the fight before Paige’s ended. People in the room stirred a little. Her family stood, stretching their limbs that had grown stiff from sitting. Cam, Rae, and Rickea lingered exchanging glances before following the usher out toward their reserved seating.

Marcus gave Paige’s shoulder a brief squeeze before he grabbed a towel and followed them out knowing she liked to have a few minutes alone before the fight, leaving only her and Azzi by the door.

Azzi hesitated for a second longer, not in a rush like the others. Paige hadn’t stopped moving, throwing punches into the air, moving around the room, a routine that was rooted deep in her brain. As the door creaked slightly as Azzi moved to leave Paige glanced up briefly and their eyes met.

Azzi didn’t say anything, just offered a small smile before she turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.

Paige stood there for a second longer, her eyes lingering on the space Azzi had just left. Then she started moving again.

The lights outside the tunnel were blinding and hot like always. Paige barely registered them, her body was ahead of her mind as she walked out and stepped into the cage, the cheers from the crowd melting into static.

Across from her, her opponent was pacing in the challenging corner, bouncing lightly on her toes with her chin tucked, fingers flexing.

Paige moved to sit in her corner and closed her eyes for a breath. Then another. Slower. Deeper. Easing her heart rate in the midst of the chaos like she’d done a thousand times before. The world outside the cage faded, replaced by the thrum of blood in her ears, the scrape of her feet on floor, the feel of her pulse settling into something steady.

Behind her, Marcus leaned in quietly. “Breathe. Don’t give her more credit than she deserves. You know how to win this.”

Paige gave him a tight nod.

The fabric of her shirt pulled across her shoulders as she took it off, handing it to Marcus. She rolled her neck, shook her arms loose, then stepped forward toward the center.

The referee stood between them, rattling off the final rules and instructions. His voice was quick and practiced, but Paige barely heard him. She nodded when she knew she was supposed to but other than that she just stared in front of her blankly.

Everything was just noise now.

Round 1

The moment the bell rang, the girl from Houston exploded forward like she had something to prove to everybody in attendance. Paige of course expected it—had counted on it, really.

She didn’t move around much at first. She let her come.

The first few seconds were just noise and flash. A wild overhand right that whistled past Paige’s head, followed by a front kick aimed at her body. Paige leaned just enough to the left, the kick brushing past her ribs without real contact.

She’s fast, Paige thought. Not too sharp right now though.

Her opponent kept pressing, jabs flying in quick succession, combos that were more about the speed than actual substance. Paige kept her guard high and her footwork was calm, letting each strike graze her forearms or miss altogether. Her body easily flowed just outside each blow’s range.

She felt the girl’s rhythm. It was impatient, rushed even. She was throwing hard too early. Paige kept her own hands mostly holstered, throwing a jab here and there, not to actually connect, but to measure distance. To poke at the pace and figure out her angles.

Her opponent threw a spinning backfist next. It was reckless and flashy. Got the crowd a little excited but Paige dipped under it easily.

Arrogant, Paige thought, her eyes tracking the way her opponent’s feet reset sloppily after the spin. She’s trying to finish this too early. Too much ego.

Midway through the round, the crowd started to shift slightly. The early momentum hadn’t done any damage. Paige could feel the shift in energy. Confusion at her lack of output from newcomers in the crowd.

The Houston fighter threw a hook that Paige blocked with her elbow, rolling her shoulder forward as she absorbed the impact. A second later came a right hand straight down the middle. It was telegraphed and Paige slid back, just out of reach.

Paige’s thoughts started connecting. She’s overreaching. Her left side drops when she resets. She leads with the same combo every time. Gets predictable after the second one.

The bell rang, and Paige backed into her corner.

Round 2

The bell sounded again, and this time, the energy changed before a single strike was thrown.

The girl from Houston didn’t charge like before. Her footwork slowed, became more methodical, her hands were tighter, eyes a little sharper. Paige noticed the change immediately.

Someone told her to calm down, Paige thought, adjusting her stance slightly.

The first jab that came Paige’s way wasn’t rushed this time, but it snapped quickly and for the first time in the fight, made direct contact with Paige’s cheekbone. Just enough to sting.

Paige’s head turned slightly with the hit, absorbing it without panicking. She stepped back once, regrouping and her eyes were brighter now.

Her opponent moved forward, throwing another combination. Paige blocked high, checked the kick, then slipped inside the next right hand to answer with a heavy body shot that landed just under the ribs.

That one got a reaction.

From the crowd. From her opponent. From Azzi, who leaned forward in her seat.

“Oof,” Cam muttered next to her. “I know that shit hurt.”

Paige was already adjusting to her opponents new tactics. She felt the girl trying to tie up, wrap her arms around her waist, pull her into the clinch. Paige let her, just for a second, then she broke it.

After she broke it Paige took a quick step back and threw a sharp elbow that clipped her opponent’s lip before disengaging. Blood began to pool there, just barely visible.

Her opponent was tough, though. After a brief reset, she shot low, driving into Paige’s legs and pushing her against the cage. The crowd yelled at the quick shift in momentum, some jumping to their feet as they battled for control inside the octagon.

Paige’s back hit the chain-link, but she didn’t panic. She got an underhook, her forearm pressed hard against the girl’s collarbone. She twisted her hips and reversed the pressure, pinning her instead. Her knee drove into the thigh, once, then another time. Then she threw a quick right hook to the temple before she broke free.

The crowd surged again.

Rickea looked truly entertained by the fight.

“She’s bleeding,” Rae said, pointing toward the girl.

Paige wasn’t unscathed either. A short elbow thrown while in the clinch had opened a nick beneath her left eye. She wiped it with the back of her glove and moved forward again.

Another exchange came and it was more calculated from both ends now. Hooks, low kicks, faint level changes. Both women landed clean a few times. Paige caught a stiff jab. Her opponent took a clean left cross that made her stumble back.

They locked up again, their arms tangling, legs moving for leverage. The Houston fighter tried a trip. Paige stuffed it, twisting and almost getting her own takedown before time ran out.

The bell sounded and a scattered cheer rang from Paige’s section, mixed with nervous murmurs and impressed whistles from everyone else in the crowd. Everyone was on their feet now.

In the break, Paige’s cut man crouched in front of her, pressing a cold swab under her eye.

“You good?” he asked. She nodded once.

Across the cage, her opponent’s team was tending to her lip, now clearly split and swelling. The blood was thicker now, dripping as she spat into a towel.

Round 3

By the time the third round was about to begin, the energy in the arena was more charged. Everyone was excited about the show the two women in the cage were putting on. Both of them finally having an opponent to go rounds with.

Cam was leaned forward on the guardrail, her arms pressed against the rail. Rae stood silently, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes darted between the cage and the screen above. Rickea mumbled something that no one heard. Azzi stood to the side of them all, her gaze fixed on the cage the entire time. The bell hadn’t even rung for the third round yet but she couldn’t look away.

Inside the cage, Paige stood in her corner, her hands on her hips. Her chest was rising and falling slowly. Her face was glistening with sweat and maybe a little blood and the area under her left eye had begun to swell slightly, the skin around it softening and tinting purple.

Across from her, the younger fighter bounced on her toes. The blood from her lip was stianing the top of her mouth guard, and one eye had started to redden slightly.

The bell sounded.

Paige stepped forward with her chin tucked, breathing steady.

Her opponent came forward a little faster than before. Not wild anymore, but definitely not timid in her movements. She looked coached and calibrated. There was a sting in her throws now. They were more selective and therefore more successful. The first jab touched Paige’s jaw and a follow-up kick slapped against her thigh. Paige checked the second one but didn’t respond, just absorbed the pace.

She was reading again trying to feel out the rhythm that seemed to constantly change. Then she responded with a tight right hand that found the other girl’s cheekbone, and the sound of the glove landing landed over the excitement of the crowd.

The girl answered with a knee that caught Paige’s side.

It stung but Paige didn’t shift much.

They clinched near the cage and for a few seconds, it became less about hits and more about finding control. Paige’s arms locked around the back, trying to angle her opponent’s hips. The girl countered, dragging Paige slightly sideways. Their feet scraped, and one of Paige’s gloves pushed up into the girl’s jaw, forcing space before she threw a quick elbow.

The girl stumbled back and Paige followed, another elbow aimed higher but this time the girl ducked and answered with a right hook that landed across Paige’s face.

Paige’s head turned slightly, and for the first time in the fight, a flash of blood sprayed into the air from her nose and cheek.

Cam winced.

Rae let out a breath. “She’s fine right?”

“She’s fine,” Paige’s dad confirmed calmly, his arms crossed as he watched his daughter. His eyes never left the cage. “Let her work. She’s got it.”

Inside the cage, blood was dripping into Paige’s mouth now. Not too much, just enough for her to taste the metallic taste. Enough to push her forward a little.

The next exchange was ugly and messy. Strikes and elbows thrown, knees and shoves. The crowd had stopped analyzing and just started yelling. Some of them leaned over the front barriers, screaming names, muffled by the yelling around them. Blood was on both fighters’ bodies. It slid across their gloves, making clinches harder to hold and strikes harder to gauge.

Both of them were tired now and their breathing was heavier than it was in the rounds prior.

Paige felt the welt rising along her cheekbone and her body ached. She could feel the bruises forming, the scrape on her ribs from the cage, the faint pulse of pain in her shoulder. But she kept pressing.

A right elbow split the air and landed causing the girl to reel back. Then came a left throw from her opponent. Paige ducked and responded with a throw to the body; then again to the ribs.

Paige’s opponent grabbed her, dragged her back into the fence. Grappling now a little clumsily.

Ten seconds left.

Azzi leaned forward slightly, just as Paige got enough room to throw a final punch over the top that landed. The bell rang, singling the end of the round.

They didn’t move for a second before they slowly separated. Both of them were sweating and panting and blood was mixed into the chaos and was dotting the floors of the cage.

Paige turned and walked to her corner. Her cut man met her halfway, towel already in hand. “Hold still,” he muttered, wiping around her cheek and nose. There was blood across her neck and chest. Some hers. Some not.

“Yours isn’t the worst,” he said, brushing beneath her eye. “She’s leaking.”

Her trainer leaned in close. “Talk to me. You okay out there?”

Paige didn’t even sit down. “I’m good,” she said. When she said it her voice was rough, clipped.

He studied her, his eyes scanning her face. Blood was still sliding down her cheek and her breathing was heavy, but her stare was in the distance.

“You sure? We can slow this down if you need to…pull back until–-”

Paige cut him off. “I said I’m good Marcus.”

He gave a short nod, slipping the towel from her shoulder and dabbing near the swelling under her eye. “Alright. Keep your lead hand up. You’re letting her crowd you when you drop it.”

“She’s sloppy,” Paige said, absentmindedly. “She’s never fought this long, getting desperate.”

“Exactly,” he responded, stepping back to give her space. “She’s frazzled. Never experienced anything like this before you got that on your side.”

Paige’s jaw tightened.

“All you gotta do is finish it.”

She nodded once and he tapped her on the back.

Round Four

The bell rang, and Paige stepped forward again, the wear of the previous rounds visible in her shoulders, the rhythm of her breathing. Her opponent mirrored the fatigue, but there was a new wildness in her eyes, a last-ditch hunger to end it this round.

They circled.

The first few exchanges were calculated: a leg kick from Paige that was checked cleanly; a body shot from her opponent that landed with a thud; a jab from Paige that snapped the girl’s head back. They were both moving trying to find the right moment.

But then a left hook landed harshly against the side of Paige’s head, just above the temple. Her body staggered from the impact, legs briefly unsure beneath her as her brain fought to analyze what was happening. The lights blurred for a second and her ears rang. She blinked, trying to get everything back into focus.

From the seating section, Cam shot up halfway from her chair. “Shit,” she muttered.

Paige’s father shook his head. “She’s fine,” he said. “She’s still in it.”

Paige shook the daze off, just enough to reset her stance. Her opponent charged in, eager to capitalize on Paige’s haziness, but Paige ducked a looping right and grappled, locking her arms under the girl’s and forcing her against the cage. The two fought for leverage with their sharp knees. Blood poured from a fresh cut just above Paige’s eyebrow, leaking down the side of her face and blurring the corner of her vision.

They broke apart and reset. Then in another flurry a jab-cross from Paige, and a clinch, her opponent trying to muscle her into a takedown that Paige blocked with experience.

Off a failed swing from her opponent, Paige slipped under and shot for the hips, driving through and dragging her down. In a blur of motion, she transitioned from half-guard to mount, then sliding behind as her opponent rolled in slight panic.

Paige had her hooks in and arms around her neck. The crowd erupted as Paige cinched a choke tightly.

A few seconds passed and Paige prayed to God that this girl wasn’t stupid enough to risk brain damage for a fight. To her relief Paige felt frantic tapping after a few more seconds.

The ref dove in, pulling her off as Paige released her immediately and sat back with blood pooling from her eyebrow. Her opponent was on her knees coughing against the mat in front of her, blood dripping down her face as she shook her head.

Paige sat there for a moment, still on the mat, her knees bent, forearms resting on them as her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her ears were still ringing with a sharp, high-pitched sound that was driving her crazy on top of the crowd’s yelling. She blinked a few times, trying to force the haze from her head but the lights above her were blurred. Her vision sharpened, dulled, and sharpened again.

The ref moved beside her, gripping her wrist and tugging her upward, announcing the win. She barely registered it as her head spinned.

Her cut man appeared almost immediately, reaching out with a towel to stop the flow across her face, but Paige brushed him off with a slight shove, not roughly just her being resistant. Silently telling him not now.

Her head was down as she walked out of the cage and instantly moved to the back toward her assigned room. The sound of the arena faded behind her with each step and it was replaced by the echo of her footsteps and the relentless ringing in her ears.

All she could do when she got to the back was grab a towel, pressing it to the side of her face as she slid down against the nearest wall. Her legs giving out without much of a fight. Blood was smeared across her cheek and neck as she wiped at it with shaking hands, but it kept coming.

The ringing in her ears felt sharper now, pulsing in rhythm with the headache that pounded behind her eyes under the harsh lights of the room. She closed them tightly just to breathe. Just to exist in the darkness and silence for a second.

The door opened followed by footsteps and excited voices.

Cam was in first, trying to bring her usual energy as she walked in with a grin. “Let’s fucking go! Paige, that was—”

“Not right now, Cam,” Paige mumbled, her voice strained enough to stop Cam mid-sentence. She raised her hands in surrender, backing off immediately. But her family followed, trailing in excitedly behind her. Their voices were full of pride, relief and adrenaline. Way too loud.

Paige winced and her face contorted in pain as her head throbbed. The room spun slightly as the noise closed in on her.

“I need everybody to get the fuck out,” she said suddenly.

Her family was completely stunned. Some of them blinked like she personally insulted them with the statement. Her mom opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself when she saw Paige’s face.

“Somebody has to stay with you, P,” a voice said softly. Maybe Cam, Paige couldn’t tell.

She didn’t even bother to look over. Her head stayed resting against the wall with her eyes shut tight. “Whoever’s gonna sit here and shut the fuck up can stay,” she mumbled.

There was a moment of hesitation before Rickea pressed her hand lightly to Azzi’s back, pushing her forward.

“You heard her,” Rickea said softly, glancing at the others. “Let’s go.”

Azzi hesitated for just a second before walking fully into the room while the others shuffled out.

Azzi eased the door shut behind them and stood still for a moment. Paige hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor. Her legs were stretched out in front of her and the towel in her lap was stained with smears of red. Even without looking over, she seemed to know who was there.

“You still here?” Paige questioned.

Azzi whispered softly, “Yeah.”

“Figured it was you. Everyone else talks too damn much and doesn’t listen.”

Azzi didn’t answer, she just stepped further inside Paige adjusted her position still not opening her eyes. “Can you turn off the lights for me?”

Azzi walked over and flicked off the switch and the room sank into darkness. The only light coming from the hallway slipping in under the door. Paige exhaled quietly at the instant relief. Azzi let her eyes adjust to the slight darkness before making her way toward the corner where she spotted the ice bin. She scooped some of it into a bag and wrapped it tightly with a towel.

Just as she was finishing up a knock sounded. It was gentle, but loud enough to make Paige flinch slightly.

Azzi crossed to the door and cracked it open.

Paige’s cut man was standing there holding a small vial and a long large cotton swab in his hands. He looked past Azzi at Paige on the floor then handed her both items. “She won’t let me near her again tonight,” He said. “She knows what to do. But just in case, clean the blood off first. Pour this on the swab—not too much—then roll it gently over the cut.”

Azzi gave him a quick nod as she took the items and quietly shut the door again.

When she turned back around, Paige was still in the same exact spot and the towel she was using was useless now, covered in red more than white at this point.

Azzi moved quietly as she sat down beside her. “Can I help you?”

Paige didn’t answer. She just let her head roll to the side, eyes cracking open to look at her. Even in the low light, Azzi could see the exhaustion etched into every part of her face. Her jaw was tight, her cheek was bruised and the cut over her eyebrow still bleeding in a stubborn line down the side of her face.

Paige gave the smallest shrug. “Haven’t gotten an ass whooping like this in a while,” she mumbled.

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she reached for a fresh towel. “Yeah, well…you still won.”

“Barely,” Paige mumbled, letting her eyes fall closed again.

Azzi shifted, her knees brushing against Paige’s thigh as she gently tilted Paige’s chin toward the light. Paige’s jaw clenched and she drew in a sharp breath but she didn’t stop her.

Azzi began to wipe her face slowly despite the amount of blood. She grimaced here and there as she worked. The smears across Paige’s temple, the streak down her neck, dried and fresh blood all blending together.

Paige caught the expression and cracked a barely there smile. “Squeamish?”

Azzi smiled, her eyes flicking up for just a second. “Maybe a little.”

Paige lifted her hand to take the towel, but Azzi caught her wrist and pushed it back down. “I got it.” She said it softly, but firmly enough that Paige didn’t argue. She just dropped her hand back to her lap, and she let her head rest against the wall again. Azzi wiped away the last of the blood. When the towel did all it could, Azzi reached for the cotton swab and the vial. She didn’t say anything about it, just soaked the tip and leaned in.

The moment the antiseptic touched the gash over Paige’s eyebrow, her body got rigid. Her jaw clenched and her eyes squeezed shut, a sharp breath hissing through her teeth.

Azzi whispered, “Sorry,” but didn’t stop rolling it over the cut.

Paige didn’t respond, just exhaled hard again as Azzi moved to the cut beneath her eye, rolling the soaked cotton along the split. Paige winced again, but didn’t move.

Once she was done Azzi paused and let her hand linger near Paige’s cheek just a moment longer than necessary. She grabbed the towel-wrapped ice from earlier and pressed it gently to the side of her head. Paige’s hand came up to take it from her and hold it in place.

“You have a concussion.”

Paige nodded once. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.”

Paige let out a quiet scoff. “I’m not,” she mumbled. “I just don’t have the energy to be pissed out loud right now.”

Azzi responded with a small, almost sympathetic laugh, leaning back against the wall beside her. “Fair enough.” She sat with her knees pulled up, glancing over at Paige every so often. After a minute, she asked, “Was it worth it?”

“Ask me again when the ringing stops.”

Azzi add’s, “At least you didn’t tap, that's a little embarrassing.”

Paige gave a tired breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah, well. Pride’s a hell of a drug.”

They sat there quietly for a few moments then Azzi nudged Paige’s leg gently with her foot. “You know,” she said casually, “I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to somebody covered in someone else’s blood until today.”

Paige’s lips twitched, and before she could stop it, a small smile cracked through. Just for a second.

Azzi’s eyes lit up. “I did it.”

Paige blinked. “Did what?”

Azzi grinned. “I got a smile.”

Paige shook her head, still smiling faintly. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late,” Azzi said, leaning back like she’d just won something important. “I’m remembering this moment.”

Paige shook her head, the smile still hanging on her face even as she sighed and mumbled, “I need to shower.”

“Okay, come on.” Azzi stood and reached out her hand.

Paige grabbed it, groaning softly as Azzi helped her to her feet. Her body protested with every movement, and a sharp twinge in her side made her wince. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked toward the bathroom.

As the door closed and the sound of the shower running steadily Azzi sat down in one of the chairs pulling out her phone to send a quick text to Cam. A few minutes later everyone cautiously trickled back into the room silently.

Cam looked toward the bathroom, then turned to Azzi who was still seated in the chair by the wall, towel and gauze discarded beside her.

“How’s she doing?” Cam asked gently.

Azzi glanced toward the closed door, then back at them. “Pretty sure she’s got a concussion,” she said, keeping her voice low, “but other than that…she seems pretty ok.”

Rickea exhaled, shaking her head. “That shit was crazy.”

Paige’s dad stood near the back, replaying the fight in his head. “She’ll be alright. Always is.”

“Still,” Cam said, “that was a lot. You could see it in her face, especially in the third.”

They all nodded in agreement, the low conversation filling the room just as the bathroom door opened.

Steam came out first, followed by the slow steps of Paige herself. Her wet hair was down and her skin was still flush from the heat of the shower. She had on a pair of dark sweats that hung a little low on her hips and a plain sports bra that revealed the fresh bruises starting to bloom along her side and shoulder. She was moving like every joint ached, like gravity had doubled just for her tonight.

The room quieted again.

“You alright?” Cam asked gently.

Paige’s eyes moved to her, and she gave a tired thumbs up before walking toward the chair near the wall that had her bag in it.

Paige slipped her hoodie on over her sports bra, tugging the hood low enough to shield her eyes from the fluorescent lights she knew was in the hall. Even the bit of brightness flowing in from the cracked door made her blink a few times, her temples throbbing in sync with the buzz of every overhead fixture. The sound of voices around her felt amplified, like her skull couldn’t contain the noise.

She brought a hand up to her temple, rubbing it a few times.

“You mind driving the car I got?” Paige said to Azzi. “I can’t deal with all this right now.”

Azzi nodded. “Of course.”

Just behind them, Rickea made a dramatic gagging sound, sticking her tongue out and jabbing her index finger toward it like she was about to puke. “God, you’re actually disgusting.”

Paige turned her head just enough to throw Rickea a look, but even that shift made her grimace slightly. She mumbled, “You’re lucky I can’t feel my legs right now.”

Rickea snorted and lifted both hands like she was surrendering. Whispering, “Love you Paigey.”

Azzi just chuckled, looping the keys around her finger.

The walk to the car wasn’t long, but every step was a reminder of how fucked up Paige’s body felt. Every sharp laugh or car engine in the distance made her jaw clench. She kept her head down, her hoodie a weak but welcome shield against the chaos of the world.

Azzi stayed next to her, guiding her through the parking lot. When they reached the car, Azzi unlocked it and opened the passenger side for her. Paige slid in with a soft grunt as Azzi put her bag in the backseat before she rounded to the driver’s side and started the engine. Paige immediately leaned her head back and shut her eyes. For the first time all night, she let out a breath that sounded almost like relief.

Azzi kept her eyes on the road, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on her thigh. The sound of the tires on pavement and the occasional sound of passing cars were the only sounds filling the vehicle. Paige was slumped back in the passenger seat and the faint blue light from the dashboard cast shadows across her bruised face.

That silence lasted almost the entire drive until the car’s Bluetooth kicked in and Paige’s phone started ringing abruptly. Paige let out a long loud groan.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled, squinting one eye open. The name on the screen read CUT MAN. She sighed and answered it. “I should fire you.”

Her cut man laughed on the other end of the line. “I got a physician heading to your hotel room before you call it a night.”

Paige blinked slowly. “Why,” she asked flatly, not even trying to hide her exhaustion.

“Shut up and just let me do what you pay me for.”

She didn’t bother responding. She just let her hand drop to her lap and ended the call.

From the driver’s seat, Azzi glanced over. “Everything—”

“Sshh no talking,” Paige cut her off gently, her eyes already drifting shut again as her head leaned back against the window.

Azzi nodded, lips twitching into a quiet smile at Paige’s bossiness as she let the silence settle again.

Once Azzi pulled into the hotel parking lot, she slipped the car into park and glanced over.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi let a few seconds pass before gently saying her name. “Paige?”

Paige still didn’t move. Just the slow rise and fall of her chest as her cheek leaned against the cool window.

Azzi reached over and nudged her arm lightly. “Hey.”

Paige shifted, and a tired mumble escaped her lips. “Wassup…”

Azzi smirked. “We’re here, princess.”

Paige didn’t move, from her position in the seat. “Your parents clearly failed…didn’t teach you not to insult someone who could beat your ass,” she whispered.

“I’m pretty sure I could take you right now, honestly.”

That got a huff of amusement from Paige, her lips twitching upward as she slowly peeled her eyes open. They were glassy, heavy-lidded, but there was a small glint of life in them again.

She turned her head, and Azzi was already looking at her, a soft smile on her face.

For a moment, they just sat there, the engine clicking softly as it cooled, the hotel looming behind them, and the world feeling a little quieter inside the car.

Then Azzi tilted her head, grinning wider. “I know I’m pretty, but we should probably get you upstairs.”

Paige just shook her head slowly, the ghost of a smile still on her face as she reached for the door handle.

The walk up to Paige’s room was slow—Paige leaning a bit into the wall every few steps and almost falling asleep again in the elevator, but they made it without much fuss. When they reached her hotel room, she fished the keycard from her pocket. “You coming in?”

Azzi didn’t answer, she just followed her silently.

The room was modest, just big enough. A king bed sat in the center of the room, with a set of tall windows next to it overlooking the city lights of a city that never sleeped. Paige didn’t bother with pleasantries; she tugged her hoodie off the second the door shut and tossed it onto a chair before stumbling toward the bed. The mattress gave under her weight as she dropped onto it and she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath all night.

Azzi, meanwhile, wandered over to the other side of the room and reached for the bathroom light, flipping it on just enough to cast a glow into the room without overwhelming Paige. She walked to the large windows and stared out at the city below.

She stayed by the window for a moment, the city lights painting her silhouette in soft golds and blues. Then, her gaze drifted to the bed where Paige was stretched out like she’d melted into the mattress. “You look real cozy over there,” Azzi said quietly, walking back toward the center of the room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you brought me here just to watch you sleep.”

Paige didn’t open her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tilted up slightly. “I bring you around to boost morale.”

Azzi smiled, sinking onto the foot of the bed. “You sure you don’t just like having me close?”

“I’m concussed,” Paige said but it came out muffled against the pillow. “Flirt with me when my brain isn’t soup ight?”

Azzi laughed at this and turned a little, watching Paige’s breathing slow. The silence stretched comfortably between them but then Paige’s breaths started to even out a little too much, her body beginning to relax into sleep.

“Hey,” Azzi said gently, scooting a little closer. “Don’t pass out yet.”

A groggy grunt came in response.

“You got a physician coming to check on you, remember?”

Paige groaned into the pillow like the words personally offended her. “I hate my life.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “Yeah, well, hate it with your eyes open for ten more minutes.”

Paige waved her off before her hand flopped back to the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Azzi grinned. “I thought I boosted morale?”

“I take it back,” Paige said dryly, her face still buried in the pillow.

The room fell quiet again, the sound of the AC humming in the background filling the space perfectly. Azzi took the moment to pull out her phone, scrolling through notifications before opening the group chat with Cam, Rickea, and Rae.

Azzi [11:49 PM]: we’re back at the hotel. they have a physician coming to check on her.

Cam hearted the message. And a second later, Rickea responded.

Rickea [11:51 PM]: you in the telly? 😏

Azzi held back a laugh and quickly typed out:

Azzi [11:51 PM]: GOODNIGHT.

She was barely able to hit send when there was a knock at the door.

Paige once again groaned and pressed herself deeper into the mattress like she could disappear into it and make everybody go away.

Azzi stood up and was already moving toward the door when she said, “Physician’s here, princess. She opened the door and greeted the woman quietly.

The physician stepped inside, hesitating slightly as her eyes adjusted to the dim room. “It’s a little dark in here.”

Azzi gestured toward the lump of Paige on the bed. “If I turned on the lights, she probably would've tried to kill me.”

From across the room, muffled by the pillow, Paige said, “Still will.”

“Unfortunately, I need some light to actually see her.”

With a resigned sigh, Azzi walked over and turned on the two bedside lamps. A warm glow lit up the room just enough to make Paige wince.

“Paige, I’m gonna need you to sit up for me.”

Paige exhaled slowly, pushing herself upright with one hand while the other braced her sore side. She moved like her body weighed twice as much, before she finally settled on the edge of the bed.

The physician set her bag down on the nearby dresser, pulling on a pair of gloves before crouching in front of Paige.

“Alright let’s take a quick look at these cuts first,” she said, inspecting the one along Paige’s eyebrow and just beneath her eye. She leaned in, carefully tilting Paige’s chin with two fingers. “Clean. No stitches needed. Just keep them clean and apply this.” She reached back and grabbed something from her bag before holding up a small tube of ointment, setting it on the nightstand. “Twice a day.”

Paige gave a slow nod, her eyes half-closed. “Cool.”

Then the physician moved to her ribs where she gently pressed at one of the darker bruises on Paige’s side, and Paige’s whole body tensed as she tried to breathe through it.

“Bruising’s not bad, not too deep” the physician murmured, more to herself than anyone.

Paige gave a bitter laugh under her breath. “Not bad my ass.”

Azzi, who was sitting near the window, cracked a faint smile but stayed quiet.

“Alright,” the physician said, stepping back slightly and reaching into her bag again. “Time to check on the concussion.”

When she pulled out the small flashlight, Paige’s eyes barely cracked open before she grimaced. “Yeah…that’s not happening.”

“I need to check pupil dilation sweetheart,” the physician said calmly.

Paige just shook her head, shifting slightly as she leaned her elbows onto her knees. “You can guess. Just go with your gut. I trust you.”

The physician laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I’d be out of a job if I did that.”

Paige let out a slow breath. “I can offer you a job. Problem solved.”

That earned a genuine laugh from both the physician and Azzi. The moment settled lightly, but Paige eventually resigned and opened her eyes again muttering, “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

The physician raised the penlight and gently swiped it past Paige’s eyes. Paige immediately flinched, her face tightening as she shut her eyes again.

“Sorry,” the physician said softly, giving her a moment. She waited patiently until Paige blinked her eyes open again, and this time she managed to keep them open long enough for the exam.

“Did you lose consciousness at any point?” she asked, clicking the light off and slipping it into her coat pocket.

“No.”

The physician nodded, peeling off her gloves. “It’s a Grade I concussion. You’ll have some light and noise sensitivity for a few days, but it shouldn't last longer than a week. If it does, schedule a follow-up with your physician.”

“Mhmm. Thanks,” Paige mumbled, already shifting back toward the pillows as she lowered herself onto the bed again.

The physician turned toward Azzi as she packed up her bag. “Acetaminophen only for the first 30 hours or so. After that, if it’s not doing enough, you can switch to naproxen.”

Azzi nodded, trying to lock the instructions into memory.

But the physician kept going, her tone professional, “And I wouldn’t recommend any sexual intercourse for at least—”

“I’m not—you know, I mean…we’re not—” Azzi quickly stammered, cutting her off mid-sentence, eyes going wide as she stumbled over her words.

From the bed, Paige let out a low laugh, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Real smooth.”

Azzi shot her a glare, but even the physician cracked a small smile as she zipped her bag closed.

The physician gave a polite smile as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “Rest, hydrate, and no blue light for a while unless it’s absolutely necessary. If anything feels off, call your trainer or head straight to urgent care, okay?”

Paige gave a lazy thumbs-up without lifting her head. “Noted.”

Azzi followed the physician to the door, holding it open for her. “Thanks again,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

The woman nodded at Azzi before glancing back at Paige one more time. “Take care of yourself, champ.”

“Tryin’,” Paige mumbled.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Azzi turned back toward the room, sighing as she leaned against the wall. “I panicked,” she said.

Paige cracked one eye open. “Couldn’t tell.”

Azzi walked over and lightly tapped her on the leg. “I was trying to protect our virtue.”

“My virtue was gone the second I stepped in the ring tonight,” Paige mumbled, shifting slightly on the bed. “You hear the part where I’m not allowed to look at screens because I got hit so hard?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, pulling out her phone. “So I guess that means no checking Twitter to see if they’re already fantasizing about you.”

Paige groaned at the thought and turned her face into the pillow. “Jesus Christ.”

Azzi smiled, “On the bright side, I’ve now officially been mistaken for your girlfriend and given the role of your nurse. We’re really hitting milestones tonight.”

Paige reached blindly to grab a pillow and toss it in Azzi’s direction—but it barely made it halfway before falling on the floor. “I have no strength.”

“I noticed,” Azzi said, already picking it up and placing it back by Paige’s head.

Azzi grabbed a water bottle from the nearby counter and handed it to Paige. “Here. Drink. And no sarcasm until you’re at least 60 percent.”

Paige took the bottle, her fingers brushing Azzi’s. “You sticking around?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You want me to?”

Paige didn’t answer right away—just unscrewed the cap and took a long sip. When she set the bottle down on the nightstand, she said, “Wouldn’t hate it.”

Azzi shook her head at the nonanswer. “Do you have clothes?”

Paige vaguely motioned toward the corner of the room without fully lifting her arm. Azzi followed her gesture to a half-zipped suitcase.

She walked over, rummaging through the bag until she pulled out a large t-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. She disappeared into the bathroom and she took a few minutes to freshen up, throwing her hair into a bun.

When she stepped back into the room, the only light still coming from the side lamps now that she turned off the bathroom light, she grabbed the extra blanket draped over the chair. “Scoot over, drama queen.”

Paige let out a theatrical sigh as she sluggishly moved to one side of the large bed.

Azzi climbed in the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much as she settled beside her. Not too close, but close enough that Paige would know she was there if she moved in the middle of the night. She fluffed the blanket over herself and looked at the ceiling for a second before glancing at Paige again and saying, “Wow. She listens.”

“Only ‘cause I can’t argue right now,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah. Save the threats for when your eyes don’t look like a sad puppy when you open them.”

Paige opens her eyes at this, and Azzi immediately regrets her wording. Not because they were wrong, but because they were too right. Her blue eyes, rimmed with exhaustion and they were dull from the headache, but they still held a beautifulness, soft and glassy like she was seeing the world through crystalline water.

Azzi held her gaze for way longer than she meant to before clearing her throat and looking away. “Okay, maybe a cute puppy,” she said.

Paige gave a weak smirk, her eyes fluttering shut again. “Nice save.”

They settled into a nice quietness, the tension slowly draining from Paige’s body. The buzz of life outside their door fading into the background.

Azzi adjusted the blanket over her legs, glancing at Paige who was curled loosely on her side now, facing her. “Hey,” she said softly, almost hesitant to say something. “You did good tonight, y’know.”

Paige didn’t respond right away, but her lip twitched like she heard her.

Azzi kept going anyway. “I know it sucked, and I know you probably feel like shit, but you kept your head in it and you won.”

There was a pause. Just long enough to make Azzi think maybe Paige had drifted to sleep. But then, Paige responded, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so appreciative of a concussion.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the random comment. “Why?”

“If I wasn’t, I’d be too pissed. Too in my head,” Paige said with her raspy voice. “I probably wouldn’t be able to talk to you…definitely would've been an ass. Probably pissed you off or sum.”

“Don’t worry. I like it when you’re an ass.”

Paige let out a small laugh with her eyes still closed. “Yeah?”

“Mmm. Real sexy,” Azzi replied with a smile of her own, her voice dropping playfully.

That made Paige laugh again.

A comfortable silence settled in for another moment before Paige said, “Don’t let me sleep through breakfast…feels like I haven’t eaten in years.”

“I’ll have you up bright and early.”

“Not before nine,” Paige said, already half asleep.

“8:59,” Azzi said smugly as she leaned over and turned off the lamps.

She settled back beside Paige in the dark, a tiny smile still on her lips. “Goodnight, Paige.”

There was a pause before Paige’s barely-there voice responded back, “���Night, Azzi.”

Just as Azzi’s eyes were fluttering closed, Paige spoke again.

“You won the bet, by the way.”

Azzi smiled in the dark. “I know,” she whispered back.

[batsandbirdbrains]

The one where Dick is secretly Kryptonian and Zod is the only one who recognizes him

I want a fic set in the yj cartoon universe but I want to absolutely fuck with the timeline, as one does. I want Zod to show up way earlier, like just after the end of season 2. I want my usual set up where Dick is actually only like 15-17ish bc I think the younger he is the angst-ier it gets and I love that for him. Love making him suffer. I want Artemis to have refused to come back as Tigress to help Kaldur, so Dick ends up spending the entirety of season 2 with a million responsibilities: he has to sub in as Batman at least a couple times a week in Gotham and whenever the JL needs him so the world doesn’t get suspicious, he has to run the Team as Nightwing, he has to patrol as Nightwing, he has to train Tim to be Robin bc he’s only been Robin for a couple months before Bruce fucked off to Rimbor, he acted as Kaldur’s handler while he’s undercover, and then he convinces Deathstroke to let him be Renegade so he can provide Kaldur with some sort of backup. Oh and also he’s still in high school. Taking extra credits so he can graduate sooner.

And while all of this is happening, he’s also actively hiding the fact that he’s Kryptonian. That he’s actually Superman’s older brother. That he was stuck in the Phantom Zone for years because he was scared to leave his parents and go in the pod, so the explosion set his pod off course. That he was terrified when he landed on Earth and found out that Kal and Kara grew up without him. That he was the only one with the prototype bracelet his father had made to prevent the radiation from the yellow sun giving Dick powers.

So after the invasion, after everything calms down, the heroes around him start questioning his need to keep the undercover op a secret. They question is ability as a leader, as a hero. And Dick, who’s exhausted and overwhelmed and just so so tired, basically gives them all the middle finger and fucks off the Blüdhaven. Screw them all. He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need anyone. He’s lost two families already, he can lose his makeshift third. Kara’s never even been in the same room as him since Dick has been on Earth. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He’s totally fine.

Then General Zod shows up four months later, and the JL reluctantly calls in nightwing because they need all the help they can get. And Dick helps. Because he’s good like that. Because even though he barely remembers Zod, he does remember that he was an ass and he didn’t like him, no matter how respectful his parents always told him he should be to his elders, especially one with the rank of General. But that was before Zod got thrown in the Phantom Zone, so Dick likes to think it wouldn’t count now.

Dick is on the Watchtower, lingering in the back, waiting for the debrief to start so he can just go home already. He’s missed a shift at the bar he works at for this. He’s probably going to get fired.

While Dick is brooding to himself, Superman and Supergirl arrive, each holding an arm of the shackled Zod, who’s looking around the room like they’re all dirt beneath his boots. But when Dick looks up, he and Zod look at each other. Even with the mask, Dick can tell he’s been recognized. And it makes his stomach drop.

Because Zod starts laughing, and it makes everyone pause. Everyone is watching him, and it only makes Zod’s smirk widen.

“I haven’t seen you in quite some time,” Zod says, his voice smooth. “Given your youth, it must’ve been you we heard crying in the Phantom Zone all those years. Remind me of your name again, boy?”

Dick stays frozen, even as everyone turns to him after realizing he’s the one Zod is staring down. The further Dick tries to hunch in on himself, the more Zod laughs.

“What was it? Ree-El? Rae-El? Rid-El?”

“Rah-El,” Dick eventually hisses, glaring at Zod. Zod just continues smirking at him, and Dick help but bite at him in Kryptonian, “Traitor.”

Kara is gasping, her hold on Zod going slack, but Kal-El just looks confused. As does everyone else around them.

“Ah, yes,” Zod says, his voice smooth. “Rah-El, firstborn of Jor-El and Lara. I’d thought you’d perished on Krypton when I hadn’t seen you fighting with your family. But look at you, hiding in the shadows. Tell me, it was you we heard in the Phantom Zone, wasn’t it? Your screams were so delightful.”

And just knowing that Zod and the others heard him while he was terrified, alone, locked in the pod with no way out, it makes his blood boil. Because they could have helped him. They should have helped him. He was a child, he was one of their own, and they left him to rot.

“Nightwing,” Kal’s voice is shaking, “what is he talking about?”

“Nightwing?” Zod laughs. “Oh, you really have been hiding in plain sight, haven’t you? Very clever.”

Dick can feel his hands shaking and his breathing get shallower, so he pushes himself off the wall and stomps up to Zod, hissing at him, “I hope they send you to rot in the Phantom Zone for the rest of eternity, you pathetic excuse for a general.”

He leaves before anyone can say anything. He doesn’t know how to answer any of their questions anyway. He doesn’t want to.

[lavilavs]

୨୧ ── Stream with me!

› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader

› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?

› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show

Bruce Wayne

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.

Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.

"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—

"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"

It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 

A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?

No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.

"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."

Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 

A lot more today? 

How many more were there than usual?

He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.

Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.

BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing

isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man

IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE

InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.

Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 

He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.

The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.

"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."

The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.

You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 

Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 

"Honey, are you playing this right?" 

"Am I not?"

He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 

What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.

Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.

His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.

"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.

Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.

The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.

Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD

Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT

MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 

Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM

You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.

"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.

"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.

The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.

Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.

I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]

Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.

"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.

Dick Grayson

Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!

When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.

Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.

You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.

Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you

Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW

TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more

Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!

"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.

"See? She keeps on hurting me."

"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 

You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.

"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.

"What do you suggest then?"

And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.

Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!

"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"

Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.

"Still can't beat me, honey."

"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."

That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.

5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.

It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?

"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.

"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.

The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.

Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!

It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.

And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...

Daywalk donated 5$  

I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart

Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?

"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.

"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"

"Dick."

"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.

Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 

You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.

Jason Todd

"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 

You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.

In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.

First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.

"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 

"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.

Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him

Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics

Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 

And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.

"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.

With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.

You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.

With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?

Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.

Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.

Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 

It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.

His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.

An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"

The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.

"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 

"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.

Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.

It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.

One minute he was about to hug you.

The next, your fist connects with his face.

Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!

"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.

Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.

Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point

Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other

So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.

He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.

When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.

"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.

The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.

Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME

Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)

TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.

"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.

Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.

Tim Drake

"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"

Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.

He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.

Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings

Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!

You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.

"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.

"What game do you guys want to see us play?"

Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.

You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.

"Horror games? That sounds good."

What!

Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.

Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.

He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.

This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.

Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?

And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.

Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.

He takes a peek at the comments at the side.

HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...

Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T

Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro

Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.

"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.

Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.

"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.

You love Tim.

You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.

But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.

He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.

"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.

Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort

Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv

MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?

Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.

Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.

Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 

They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.

Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.

Goobert: AYEEE

HoelessRomantic: Aye.

Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!

and a million others more.

"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.

Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.

Damian Wayne

Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.

You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 

Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 

It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!

Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...

Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn

Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy

HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman

"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 

He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!

Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.

"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 

He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.

And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.

The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.

But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.

And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.

Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat

Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN

HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox

Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...

As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 

It was too late though.

"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 

Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.

"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."

"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.

You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?

"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 

Big Poo: Tower of hell :>

Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 

Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR

Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?

Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.

"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 

Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.

"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."

"Me too. I feel so stupid."

You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.

It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.

The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.

The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.

Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO

Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—

He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.

Husband rights defended! ;p

And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 

No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.

As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.

"Big Poo..." 

Uh oh

"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"

The stream has ended.

extra scene!

In another universe...

In the timeline of Young Justice...

Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?

They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.

Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.

In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.

"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"

"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"

"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."

They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.

"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"

"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"

"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.

Great.

It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.

They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.

[tomsparkyr]

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: y/n releases her new song and soft launches her boyfriend, the man in which ‘bed chem’ is about

george clarke x fem!reader

fc: sabrina carpenter

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

y/n just posted!

liked by georgeclarkeey, sidemen and 2.1 million others

y/n hey… so my new song ‘bed chem’ comes out tonight? surprise?

view all comments?

user HOE WHAT ?????

user i’m sat.

faithlouisak thank god i couldn’t hold this secret in anymore, proud of you baby!🩷

⤿ y/n thank you and love u sweet cheeks

⤿ benzingagram ?

user YAYAYAYYA

user omg i’m so excited

georgeclarkeey 👍👍

⤿ y/n 😱😱

⤿ user girl explain tf

max_balegde YESSSSSS

⤿ liked by y/n!

taliamar ❤️❤️❤️

⤿ y/n don’t pretend as if i haven’t played it to you 100 times

⤿ taliamar just rooting my two horny friends on x

⤿ user FRIENDS ???? IT’S SOMEONE WE KNOW

⤿ user ERM

⤿ y/n 😝😝😝

⤿ taliamar you’re actual feral

⤿ georgeclarkeey i love it

⤿ this comment was deleted!

⤿ georgeclarkeey someone sedate her

y/n just posted!

liked by georgeclarkeey, wroetoshaw and 2.0 million others

y/n said you’re not in my time zone but you wanna be

view all comments?

user obsessed with you

user prettiest ever

taliamar 🫣🫣

user GIRL ARE U SOFT LAUNCHING

⤿ user babe she just released a song about shagging a guy i fear she’s dicked locked down

user WHO TF IS THAT

user hey so show his face! x

user serving

user anyone else watching for george’s usual dry comment bc he’s too scared to flirt with her😭😭😭

⤿ user NO SAME

⤿ user george realised she’s moved on from their non existent relationship in his head

⤿ georgeclarkeey ok was that necessary

⤿ user LMAOOOOO

the useless hotline updates just posted!

y/n lover just posted!

georgeclarkeey & y/n posted on their stories!

y/n nation!!!! just posted!

y/n just posted!

liked by georgeclarkeey, chrismd10 and 4.1 million others

y/n where art thou? why not uponeth me?

view all comments?

user OMG?

user SOMEONE GET THAT X ACCOUNT

user GUYS I KNEW IT

chrismd10 fuck off i have not been streaming my friends sex song all week

⤿ max_balegde I DID NOT SAY I WANTED A PIECE OF HIM I SWEAR I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GEORGE

⤿ y/n i don’t blame u max x

georgeclarkeey thanks for clearing up all the rumours i’m bad at sex y/n appreciate it

⤿ y/n no problem, same time next week?

⤿ georgeclarkeey i’ll be there.

⤿ arthurtv is this organised sex?

user IM SO HERE FOR THIS

user ok so george is apparently the best dick she’s had ok!

user ‘i bet the thermostat said it’s 69’ 😭😭😭😭😭😭

⤿ max_balegde can everyone like stop reminding me of this

⤿ arthurhill im gonna move out idk

georgeclarkeey omw (i love you)

⤿ y/n doors open (i love you more)

⤿ chrismd10 ew?

bonus!

[fireinmoonshot]

gorgeous | joaquín torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: You and Joaquín go on a hike together, but Joaquín has more important things to do – like taking a million photos of you instead. Warnings: I don't think there are any. Word Count: 1k A/N: I've had this idea in my notes for a few weeks now and I just had to write it. I just love the idea of Joaquín taking photos of you all the time and having a camera roll full of them. Please enjoy! 💗

“Wait, wait, wait – hold it right there!” Joaquin exclaims, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and taking a few steps backwards from where you’re standing. 

You look at your boyfriend, amused, and shake your head as you watch him snap a few photos of you on his phone. You’d both come out for an afternoon hike, wanting to take advantage of the good weather, but it had mostly ended up with Joaquin taking a million photos of both you and the scenery rather than actually enjoying the hike..

“Has your phone storage run out yet?” You ask, walking towards him.

Joaquin squints down at his phone, trying to see the photos he’s just taken without the glare of the sun on the screen. “No,” he says, distracted. “I have room for a couple thousand more of you.”

You chuckle. “Should be full by the end of this hike, then.”

He holds out his phone to show you one of the photos of you. “I’m gonna print and frame this one to add it to my desk in the office,” he says, smiling down at the photo of you. “You look so gorgeous, as usual.”

You can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his words. Even after being in a relationship with him for years, he still says things that make you react this way. The fact that he says them without even really meaning to make you react makes it even better. 

Joaquin reaches down and takes your hand in his, shoving his phone back in his pocket again as he tugs you along to continue the hike. 

You’re used to this – being the model for Joaquin’s photoshoots. He’s always been the type of person to take photos in every situation. He made a folder on his phone for you not long after he became your boyfriend and it quickly filled up. He’s known for taking twenty photos of the same thing but not being able to delete any of them. Whether they’re photos of you or just photos of something he likes the look of.

“Your desk must be overcrowded by photos at this point, right?” You ask as you continue walking along the trail. “I haven’t visited you there in a while but I spotted at least six photos last time I was there. There’ll be no room for your computer soon.”

Joaquin grins. “That’s the way I like it, angel. Why would I wanna look at a computer screen all day when I can look at photos of you and my family? Especially that one of you and my mom last year. I think that’s my favourite.” 

“Hmm, maybe because looking at computer screens are part of your job?”

“Don’t remind me of that while I’m out here enjoying nature,” he laughs, tightening his grip on your hand as you walk over a particularly rocky and uneven part of the trail. 

“You say, as if you haven’t been staring at your phone screen for half of this hike.”

He smirks as he looks at you. “To be fair, what I’m looking at on that screen is better than what I look at when I’m working.”

“As if I’m not in four of the photos on your desk,” you shoot a look at him.

Joaquin laughs again, shaking his head. There is no way he’s winning this and he’s well aware of that fact. He’s more just amused at the fact that you know him so well. Looking ahead on the trail, his eyes narrow in on the perfect spot to take another photo of you. There’s a waterfall in the distance and with the way the sun is filtering through the leaves of the trees, he knows it’ll be a gorgeous photo – mostly just cause you’ll be in it.

He drags you over to the location and lets go of your hand, taking your shoulders to spin you around so you’re in the perfect position for the photo. “I know what you’re gonna say, but please just let me get this photo of you. It’s the last one, I swear.”

You decide to humour him one last time, standing there while he takes a few more photos of you. You’re not about to disappoint the man just because he wants another photo of you. You actually find it really sweet – and you always have. The fact that this man wants so many photos of you always makes your heart flutter. It shows how much he loves you.

“Where’s this one gonna go?” You ask, wandering back over to him when he’s done.

Joaquin is looking down at his phone screen again. “Right here,” he says. He shows you his phone screen – the photo he’s just taken has replaced another photo of you and is now his lock screen. You’ve been the lock screen on his phone ever since you became official.

“Aww, baby,” you coo at him, enjoying the way his cheeks flush a little. 

He reaches down to take your hand again. “Let’s keep going…”

It’s only another ten minutes or so later that Joaquin sees another spot where he’d love to take a photo of you. He spends a few minutes deciding whether or not it’s worth asking you, especially since he’d told you before that the last photo was the last photo of the hike.

“Angel,” he starts.

“Fine,” you cut him off. “But on one condition – you let me take a photo of you as well. If you get a new lock screen photo, I want one too. And I want us to take a selfie together too so I can frame it and put it on my desk at home.”

Who says Joaquin can be the only one to take photos? You’re pretty regular when it comes to taking photos of him as well, but you haven’t taken any of him on this hike simply because you’ve been the one being photographed the whole time. It’s Joaquin’s turn to stand in front of your camera for once.

Joaquin can’t help but grin. “You’ve got yourself a deal, gorgeous.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Reader with a small army of Invincibles is soooo funny to think about. Do you think the GDA would try and bend over backwards to try and please him?? Since if he wanted he could tell his Marks to destroy the planet, and the GDA doesn't have many defenses.... So a significant amount of resources is used to keep reader happy.

They probably have his apartment bugged to hell and back. Reader complains about rent increasing? Suddenly your landlord is telling you it's alright, rent isn't increasing! You complain about the writing of a TV show? A month later and the show seemed to have changed to "fix" your criticisms...

I could see reader thinking that one of his boys is doing this, but they swear they aren't. Unbeknownst to them a whole team of agents is making it so reader doesn't get fed up and decide to screw over the planet, lol.

Reader accidentally spills his drink on himself after having a really bad day and grumbles a half-hearted "god I just want to blow this planet up" and the team of agents hired specifically to watch him start sweating bullets.

I like to think the reader doesn't even have the like, thought that his invincibles could do anything to earth. Like yeah, they could wipe out the planet but like, why would they?? Reader won't ever want them to destroy earth or kill anybody, even if everything is really shitty, but the GDA lives with a constant "oh god we can't let his guy snap"

I don't think the GDA would bend over backwards at first. In the beginning they'd pull their usual threats and blackmail, but the reader is just a normal guy, as normal as they come. And yeah, reader gets worked up about his family being threatened, but his marks start hovering nearby, looking like they're ready to start frothing at the mouth.

I think the reader is at least somewhat aware of the fact that he's always under Watch, the GDA doesn't really hide it after a while, especially after Cecil has met him and they've talked.

Reader probs gets a stipend or something from the government for his "government work", which is just him pretty much keeping the group of evil viltrumites in check. Which the reader does by petting them all on the head and giving them kisses.

It's really good for the rent too, you pay like a quarter of what everyone else pays. You just think it's a mistake on the landlord's behalf but why say anything when you think you're getting a great deal.

I do think the marks would have done some threatening though. But their presence is enough most days, just knowing how they've killed millions probably, and will kill again if they wanted too, or rather, if you wanted too.

But you're too busy researching how big a bed needs to be for all of you guys to cuddle together at the same time in something that isn't a pile of bodies.

I feel bad for the agents monitoring your apartment. They're gonna hear a lot of stuff, some steamy and some just straight up weird stuff. The marks give them multiple near heart attacks every day when they grumble about killing and world dominance, but you always distract them again with a kiss and comment.

[coolemmasulivan2]

No Distractions

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Reader

Summary: After a frustrating training session, Pedri lets his emotions get the best of him.

Word count: 2810

¿Pa' qu�� putas esconderno'? Dejemo' tanto misterio para verno' Yo te gusto, tú me gustas Eso hace rato se sabe Delante de la gente bésame

You and Pedri had been together for a while now, not long enough to be living under the same roof, but long enough that whenever one of you stayed over, it felt like gravity pulled you into each other's orbit. Glued at the hip, as your best friend joked. Inseparable.

You supported him in everything he did, every match, every training session, every high-pressure moment. And he did the same for you, always checking in, always making sure you were happy, even when his own life was spinning at a million miles an hour.

Unlike him, you lived far from the spotlight. You worked at a travel agency, ironically, since you'd barely left Spain your entire life. Your car, a beat-up black Seat Ibiza, spent more time in the garage than on the road, as most of the times you chose public transport.

But none of that ever made you feel small. And Pedri never made you feel like you needed to be more. You’d built something real together, quiet, steady, and strong in all the ways that mattered.

Fer: "Don't forget to bring what I told you to, or my mom will kill me… and you!"

Pedri's brother's text lit up your screen. You smiled, thumbs already tapping.

You: "She loves me. She would never."

Send.

You: "I've got everything already, no need to worry."

Fer: "¡Bien!" (Good!)

He replied quickly. Then, after a moment:

Fer: "Solo para que lo sepas, Pedri no está de muy buen humor" (Just a heads-up, Pedri's not in the best mood.)

Your smile faded as your brow furrowed. He hadn't messaged you all day. Now you knew why.

You: "Voy en camino." (I'm on my way.)

You grabbed your keys, slipped into your car, and started the engine, a quiet knot forming in your chest as you headed toward his house.

Traffic in Barcelona was chaos, and by the time you arrived, you were already fifteen minutes late.

Pedri's mom was opening the door before you even reached it. She wore an apron stained with tomato sauce, and the moment she saw you holding the bag, her face lit up.

"¡Eres un ángel! If it wasn't for you, there'd be no dinner tonight." She said, wrapping you in a warm hug. (You're an angel!)

"Happy to help." You smiled.

"Let me!" She said, taking the bag from your hands as you followed her inside.

Fer and his dad were on the couch watching a TV show. They greeted you with a smile and a wave as you walked in. Pedri, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"¿Dónde está él?" You asked. (Where is he?)

"In his bedroom." His dad answered.

You headed upstairs, pausing just outside his door before giving it a gentle knock and pushing it open.

He was lying on the bed, still in his training kit, his arm draped over his face.

"Hola." You said softly as you stepped inside.

"Hola." He replied, flatly, without moving.

You sat on the edge of the bed, letting your hand drift across his chest in slow, comforting strokes. You felt his muscles relax under your touch, but he still didn’t move.

"¿Estás bien?" You asked. (Are you okay?)

"Sí."

You knew him well enough to know that meant no.

You stayed quiet for a moment, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. The silence stretched, heavy but familiar. You didn't need to fill it, just being there was usually enough. But tonight felt different.

His jaw clenched beneath the arm still covering his face. You watched the small movements in his body, the way his chest rose just a little faster, the way his foot bounced once, then stilled.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked gently.

He let out a sigh, low and frustrated. "Fue solo una mala sesión." You nodded, letting him take his time. "Couldn't get anything right." He muttered. "Mister was on my case the whole time." (It was just a shit session.)

"Everyone has off days, Pedri."

"Lo sé." Another pause. "But I can't afford them. Not now." (I know.)

You felt the sting behind his words, the weight he put on himself every day. Still, you stayed quiet, until he finally sat up and looked at you for the first time.

"I know." You muttered.

"Maybe you're part of the problem." He said after a minute or two, out of nowhere.

You blinked, unsure you'd heard him right. ""¿Qué?" (What?)

He stood up, rubbing his hands over his face before letting them drop, placing them on his waist.

"No puedo concentrarme. Pienso en ti todo el tiempo. Before training, after training… even during drills, I catch myself wondering what you're doing, if you're okay, if I'm doing enough for us..." He shook his head. "You're a distraction" (I can't focus. I'm thinking about you all the time.)

The words hung in the air, harsh and sudden.

You swallowed, stunned into silence for a second too long. "A distraction." You repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. "That's what I am now?" He looked at you, regret already flickering in his eyes, but he didn't take it back. You stood up, slowly. "I didn't know supporting you meant getting in your way."

"That's not how I meant it--" He said, reaching for you.

You stepped back, just out of reach. Your voice was quiet, but each word cut clean. "Maybe not. But it's how it felt."

His lips parted like he wanted to say more, but nothing came out.

"I'll let your mom know you need a minute."

Then you turned, walking out of the room. Not slamming the door, not storming off. Just leaving. And somehow, that silence hit harder than shouting ever could.

You stayed, not for him, but out of respect of his parents. You sat at the table, smiled when his mom offered you a plate, helped Fer pass the bread. You played the part.

Pedri came down eventually, silent, and sat beside you like he always did. But nothing felt the same. He didn't say a word, and neither did you.

After dinner, you helped them clean everything, but as soon as everything was clean and put away, you said your goodbyes.

"Debería irme a casa." (I should head home.)

Pedri, who had been sitting on the sofa bouncing his knee restlessly, stood up the second you spoke. He followed you silently to the front door, the air between you tense and full of things he couldn’t seem to say.

"I--" He started, but you shook your head gently.

"Estás cansado." You said, not unkindly. "And so am I. Let's just rest tonight. You have a game tomorow." (You're tired.)

You reached for the door handle, already bracing for the cool night air, but before you could step outside, he grabbed your arm gently. You turned and he pulled you toward him, his eyes searching yours.

He leaned in, but you turned your head at the last second. His lips grazed your cheek instead.

You stepped back, your voice soft. "Good night, Pedri."

He wanted to tell you 'I love you', but for some reason he felt like he didn't have the right to do it at the moment, so instead a just whispered: "Bye."

As the game was about to start and the team was waiting in the tunnel, Pedri couldn't help but feel something heavy in his chest. Not because of the game, but because you hadn't been answering his calls or texts since the night before.

He didn't even know why he had called you a distraction. Yes, the session had gone badly and yes, he'd spent the whole day thinking about you. But he thought about you every day, and honestly, the season has been one of his best yet.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to focus. You were everything to him. But somehow, in the heat of the moment, he made it sound like you were the problem.

"¿Hey, estás bien?" Ferran asked, his voice pulling Pedri from his thoughts. (Hey, you okay?)

Pedri looked at his friend. "Estoy bien." (I'm fine.)

Ferran didn't seem convinced, his eyes narrowing, studying him for a moment before his lips curled into a teasing grin. "So grab his hand!"

Pedri furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "What?"

Ferran motioned toward the kid standing next to him, his hand lifted, eager and expectant. "Grab the kid's hand! The game is starting!"

Pedri blinked, his attention snapped back to the moment. He glanced down and saw the little kid looking up at him, hand raised, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Sorry." Pedri whispered under his breath, realizing how distracted he'd been. He reached down, offering his hand to the kid, whose face instantly lit up with a smile. The joy was infectious, and Pedri couldn't help but grin back.

At home, sitting nervously on the sofa, you watched the game unfold on the screen, but your focus wasn't entirely on the match. Your eyes kept gravitating toward Pedri every time the camera cut to him.

After calling you a distraction, you hadn't had the courage to go to the game. What if they lost and Pedri blamed you? Your insecurities were kicking in, louder now than they had been in a while.

Pedri had been texting and calling you nonstop since the night before, and you hadn't answered. You didn't know how to explain it. You knew he hadn’t meant it, at least not in the way it sounded, but the words still stung, echoing in your mind. You're a distraction.

What if he was right? What if your presence, your love, was one more thing for him to juggle when all he needed was to focus on the game?

You knew you were overthinking. Pedri wasn't like that. He wouldn't blame you, not really. But still, the thought of him looking at you like you were the problem made your stomach twist in knots.

The game eventually ended.

Before celebrating with his team, Pedri made his way toward his parents and brother, who had been watching from the stands. They were always there, supporting him without fail. But as he approached them, a pang of sadness shot through him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness when he noticed you weren’t with them, like you always used to be.

It was the one thing that felt off, and in that moment, the victory didn’t feel as sweet as it should have. He missed you.

"Y/n didn't come with you?" Pedri asked after being congratulated by his family. ("Y/n didn't come with you?)

"No, cariño. She said she couldn't make it," his mother replied, a flicker of sadness crossing her face as she noticed the shift in her son's expression.

"¿No te lo dijo?" His father asked, unaware of the tension between you. (Didn't she tell you?)

Pedri simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. With fans close by and cameras lingering, he stepped away without another word, walking straight toward the tunnel.

The moment he stepped into the locker room, he grabbed his phone, fingers already moving to text you, only to be stopped by a message from you.

You: Good game. I'm proud of you.

He exhaled deeply, the knot in his chest loosening just a bit as he sank down onto the bench.

"¿Qué te pasa?" Ferran asked, glancing over as he unlaced his boots. "You've been weird all day." (What's going on with you?)

Pedri hesitated. Then, quietly, he admitted, "I messed things up with Y/n. Last night." Ferran paused, giving him a look. Pedri continued. "Yesterday's session was crap. Mister was on my case, and I just… I snapped. I told Y/n she was the problem. That she was a distraction."

Ferran, drinking from his water bottle, nearly choked. "¿Eres idiota?" Pedri rolled his eyes. "No, but like-- really stupid. Why would you say that?" (Are you stupid?)

"I was pissed. And frustrated. And Mister kept talking about focus and I just--ugh. Yeah, I'm an idiot." He slumped back against the locker, lifting his phone. "This message… it's the first I've heard from her since."

"What did she say?"

"Ella dijo que está orgullosa de mí." (She said she's proud of me.)

Ferran raised his eyebrows. "Well, I don't know how or why, but if she's still proud of you after that, you must be doing something right."

You were tired and after the game ended, you hadn't had the energy to do much else. You'd turn off the TV, slipped into your pajamas, and crawled into bed.

Even though your heart still ached from what he'd said the night before, one thing hadn't changed: you were proud of him. You always were. So you picked up your phone and finally texted him. You didn't wait for a reply. You couldn't. Sleep took over your body.

You didn't know how long you'd been sleeping, but something warm stirred you: a familiar scent, the soft rustle of sheets, and then an arm wrapping gently around your waist.

"Pedri?" You mumbled, your voice thick with sleep, eyes barely open.

"It's me." He whispered. "Vuelve a dormir." He pulled you closer, his chest pressed to your back, his hand settling against your stomach. The warmth of him made your eyelids grow heavier. "We'll talk tomorrow." He said, his voice low and tired. "I love you." (Go back to sleep.)

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains. You stirred slowly, blinking against the daylight, the weight of a warm arm still draped over your waist reminding you you weren't alone.

You turned your head slightly and saw Pedri still asleep behind you, his features peaceful, one hand loosely curled near your ribs. He looked younger like that. Like the world hadn't touched him yet.

He must've felt you shift, because a second later, his eyes cracked open.

"Hola!" He murmured, his voice thick and raspy with sleep.

"Hola!" You replied.

There was a pause. Neither of you moved. Then, slowly, he sat up, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I didn't mean what I said." He began, voice low and careful. "I swear, I didn't. You're not a distraction. You're the opposite of that."

You sat up too, pulling the blanket around your lap. "Entonces, ¿por qué lo dijiste?" (Then why did you say it?)

"I was frustrated. Training went bad and I let all of it get to my head. Mister kept going on about focus and the pressure felt like too much, and I--" He looked at you, eyes soft with guilt. "I took it out on you. And that was the dumbest thing I could've done."

You stared at your hands in your lap. "It hurt, Pedri."

"I know." He said quietly. "And I hate that I made you feel that way. I hate that I made you doubt about what we have."

You finally looked up at him, your voice softer now. "I just need to know I'm not the one you blame when things get hard."

"You're not! You're the reason I get through it all." He hesitated for a second, then grabbed your hand. "When I walked over to my family after the game and you weren't there… it felt wrong. I didn't like it. I need you there. I play better when I know you're watching. Even if we've fought, just knowing you're there, it matters to me."

"I don't want us to be something that only works when things are good." You said.

"Tampoco yo." (I don't either.)

His eyes flickied down to your lips and you leaned in. The kiss was soft. Not rushed, not desperate. His hand came up to cup your cheek as your lips moved slowly together.

When you pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, and you couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at your lips.

Pedri let out the smallest, relieved exhale and then, without another word, he gently tugged you down with him as he lay back on the bed, bringing the blanket higher over both of you.

"Quedémonos aquí un poco más" He murmured, pulling you into his chest. (Let's stay here a little longer.)

"I have work in a bit."

"Call in sick." He whispered into your hair. "Tell them your boyfriend is needy and full of regrets."

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut. "That's not a real excuse."

"It should be." He said, his arms tightening around you just a little more. "Because I really, really missed you."

A comfortable silence settled between you, his fingers slowly tracing shapes along your back, your cheek pressed against his heartbeat.

Then, softly, he whispered. "Te quiero" (I love you.)

You smiled into his skin, your arms wrapped around him tighter. "Yo también te quiere." (I love you too.)

[eddiesghxst]

i've been so obsessed w innocent!virgin! reader and perv!experienced! eddie (maybe even mean!dom! eddie) dating and eddie can't wait to take her virginity🫠

ohhhhh brother don’t get me started

18+ — MINORS DNI

god eddie is so handsy. he’s handsy and impatient and honestly he doesn’t know how he’s lasted so long without just bending you over and shoving his cock in you.

but you’re so nice, feeling sorry for your poor boyfriend who has to go home and fist his cock because you’re not ready for the full thing. so, to meet in the middle, you let eddie do things. not very often, you’re still so shy about it and eddie’s got a thing for making you embarrassed so you can blush and whine.

but it took a long time for eddie to get you to say yes— nearly half a year. half a year to stick his head between your thighs and eddie would do it over a million times if he’s being honest.

it took a little longer for eddie to talk you into letting him rub his greedy cock through your wet folds. you were hesitant— but by that time, eddie had already showed you how good sex can feel and you selfishly wanted more, even if you couldn’t fully admit it, eddie could see it. could see it in the way you’d get all squirmy when he touched you, or how you clung to him when a kiss got a little heavier than expected, or in the morning when you would nuzzle up against him like you wanted to meld your bodies together.

he’s a good boy for the most part, doesn’t push you too much, but sometimes he just can’t help it— like now.

you’re just so pretty like this, laid out on his bed in his shirt, messy hair with swollen lips and glossy eyes that had only just fluttered open less than 10 minutes ago.

you’re clutching his sheets, eyes gazing down between your thighs to watch as eddie drags his cock through your wet folds, moaning and trembling when his thick tip nudges against your clit.

this is only the second time you’ve done this, let eddie stick his cock this close to your pretty cunt. usually, you suck him off or eddie fucks your thighs, because the last time eddie got his dick on your cunt he nearly lost it and just went in for the kill— you weren’t too happy with him then. and eddie doesn’t wanna upset his girl.

he tries to keep it together, ringed fingers clutching to the fat of your thighs as he presses them together to make a tight fit around him.

you whimper and eddie groans, curly strands falling over his face as he ruts into the wet heat between your thighs, timid not to get carried away and slip into you.

“fuck, you’re so wet— you sure you don’t want it?” he purrs.

you whine, eyebrows furrowing as you mewl and shake your head, “not today, eddie— please. i wanna wait, i want—“ “okay, okay,” he softly coos, his thumb caressing the skin of your thighs. “i’ll wait… i’ll fuckin wait,” he grits out the last part with a particularly strong thrust, groaning as he tosses his head back, “ah shit, squeeze your thighs together, princess— there we go.”

you’re so cute like this, whiney and pliant beneath eddie— he can practically see your brain melting out your ears. fucked dumb and you haven’t even stretched around the actual thing. god, eddie can’t wait to fuck you— really fuck you.

and he knows you like it nice and sweet, gentle touches and kind words, but sometimes he slips and his grip gets just a little tighter, his words get a little sharp and his movements get a little rough.

he leans over you, your thighs pressing to your chest as he plows through your folds, sharing the same breaths as he grunts against your lips, “look at you crying for my cock— can feel you weepin’, baby— fuck— look at me. look at me.” he demands.

your eyes flutter open, glossy and blown with lust and he nearly growls, his cock throbbing with the promise of release, “always knew you want it, naughty girl.” he teases and you whine, “tell me you want it.”

you huff around a moan and blissfully nod, “i want it, eddie.”

“you’ll let me have it.”

you nod again, “i will, i will— just n-not now—“

“shh, shut up,” he places a hand over your mouth, “shut up, just feel good.”

your eyes roll and eddie can feel you fluttering as you cum against him, your thighs shaking beside his ears. eddie never gets tired of seeing it— watching the soul leave your eyes. he dreams about it.

he can’t stop himself, not when you’re throbbing and fluttering like your pussy’s just asking for it.

he’s cumming and you’re breathless and oblivious, so he knocks your thighs open and he sits up, grabbing his dick and fisting it with fervor. his chest rises and falls quickly, his chin pressed to his chest as he looks at your quivering pussy, moaning when he takes his thumb and index finger to part your cunt, sticky arousal dripping from your hole as he presents it to himself.

god, he doesn’t last a second, placing his tip at your gaping hole, fighting every urge to push in as he cums in thick, white spurts.

you moan around a gasp, hips squirming at the sensation of eddie’s warm cum on your cunt, whining and telling him that’s enough, “no more, eddie—“ “i know, i know— ffuck.”

and yet your hips keep quirking, your cunt seeking him out like it knows what it needs. greedy little thing you are, even when you pretend otherwise.

yeah, he’s gonna fuck you sooner or later.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (3)

previous | next

tw: canon-typical violence, bad accents

"Wut?" Simon stutters, in a voice you've never heard before. You've been on comms with him when missions have gone to shit, and he has never sounded as nervous as he does right now.

"It's just-" You huff out a breath. Why does this have to be so hard? Usually conversation flows with Simon like a stream over rocks, smooth and unhurried. "It seems like you're upset. You looked like you wanted to hide when John introduced us, and now..." You let the sentence trail off. "Where's the man who, two weeks back, spent watch sharing the worst puns I've ever heard?"

Simon looks at you, finally meeting your eyes, before glancing quickly away. "I dunno wha' 'cher talkin' about," he mumbles.

You can't help but snort in response. "That's such bullshit, Simon! You forget I've heard you lie before," you remind him. "You're usually much better than this."

Simon's mask twitches and you glimpse little laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. You think maybe he's smiling a little behind the mask.

You decide to push your luck, knowing your Simon is stuck somewhere in this man who seems to sit so uneasily in his place. So you smile and say, "Go ahead and give me another."

Simon holds your gaze a few moments longer than last time and mutters you, "I don' like change."

You keep your eyes on his, on the parts of his face you can see, and on the way his hands are twitching against the table top. "Liar." You're grinning at him now.

Simon flattens his hands against the table and leans forward a little bit. Lowering his voice, he says, "We don' need help."

"Eeeh!" You make a buzzer sound and tell him, "Wrong answer, but thanks for playing." He chuckles like you're used to, low and dark. "I've seen the same intel you have, and you're going to want me on the other side of those comms."

This time he looks at you and holds your gaze. "Yer right, Oz. We will."

You're so shocked at the first honest response from him you don't know what to do. You gape at him for a moment, unsure of what to expect next, when he floors you again.

Simon looks down at the table and, so quietly you think you misheard, says, "Yer prettier 'an I thought you'd be. An' I knew you'd be pretty."

You're saved from having to respond at all as Kyle, Soap, and John finally come back with food.

"Scran's nae bad teday," Soap says, sliding a tray in front of you. You mumble out your thanks and catch John looking between you and Simon. You hope he can't see how nervous you are. Simon's posture gives nothing away, which might be his biggest tell right now.

"Solid copy, Ghost?" John asks him, and he merely grunts as he digs into his food.

The rest of your day is spent going back over the information you have. Laswell agreed with your idea for transport, so you spend a few hours arranging something both more discreet and reliable, calling in a favor or two in her name.

By the time dinner rolls around, you have given yourself no less than a dozen pep talks about your interaction with Simon at lunch. You've played out a million different scenarios and finally opted to take your cues from him.

You don't have long to wait as he and Soap come to your office at 6:30. He stands back and lets Soap do most of the talking, which he does all the way to the barracks. When you get there, you give him a quizzical look. "I don't know the base well, but isn't the mess the other way?"

Soap's smile borders on feral. "Aye, but Cap'n decided, 'cuz a yer bein 'ere, to take ye off base tonight." Beside him, you catch Simon's eye and the eye roll he gives to Soap's back.

"Cap'n jus' wan'ed tuh show ya some 'a the city, seein' as you'll be here instead 'a home when we're gone." He finishes quietly. Seems like no one is happy when reminded the whole reason you're here is to support them while they're gone.

Simon unlocks the barracks and ushers you in, following behind with a gentle hand on your lower back. Now three of your boys have made the same unconscious motion. When will Soap? "We're gonna head out in 20. Tha enough time fer ya ta get ready?" he asks.

You look at him and Soap and notice they're dressed in civvies. You're not sure how you missed that detail before because now that you really look, it's clear they've cleaned up and changed since lunch. "Twenty should be fine. I mean, it's not fancy, right?"

Soap winks at you, "Nah. Ya look perfect already, bon. Yoo could go as ya are 'n be feen."

You pause, smile frozen on your face. You don't know how to take that compliment , so you stammer, "Uh, thanks. I'll just..." You point towards your room. "Meet you in the rec room?"

Simon nods, and you walk away. You hear a light thump and an "Oi, Lt, wha' was tha' fer?" as your door closes.

It turns out John's idea of a tour of the town is more about how to get off base and where not to go alone. "Unfortunately, can' let ya borrow a military ride, Oz. Yer not cleared for 'em." So instead he shows you where to catch the bus - "ne'er do a ride share. Can' have 'em on base" - and where some key places in town are. "Asda's gunna have e'rything ya need 's far as snacks 'n toiletries. An' if ya want food tha's not from the mess, pick somethin' over 'ere," he says, sweeping his arm to the streets northwest of where the bus would drop you.

He doesn't take his own advice though, parking in a lot several blocks south and taking everyone to a pub bearing the name The Dancing Bear. The others walk ahead of you and John. Clearly this is a place they've been before.

As you follow the group into the space, the man behind the bar calls out to John who simply raises a open hand. You watch the man's eyebrows rise while he looks over the group, finally landing on you. You can't quite interpret the look he gives John, but he points to a table towards the back. You notice it's nestled in an area not immediately viewable from the door but with a line of sight to most of the room. As they had at lunch, Simon and John take up positions along the wall where they can see almost everything. Kyle and Soap are sat next to John and Simon respectfully, which leaves you to take the seat between the two sergeants.

You hear heavy steps come up behind you, and while your first instinct is to tense - you completely understand why soldiers and cops try to not put their backs to a room - no one you're with seems concerned.

When the footsteps stop, a gruff voice says, "Nice ta see ya, boys. An' ye've brought a friend."

You assume this is the same man from behind the bad, but while John was smiling a moment ago, you can tell it's now strained. You can only guess what caused the change.

"What've they got on you, dollface? Ye're too gorgeous to be here, with them, by choice." The man laughs at his own joke as you turn. You don't know how often the boys come here, and you certainly don't want to burn bridges if they think the joke is funny, so you simply give the man a tight smile.

John gets his attention and orders drinks for the boys then looks to you. You order a soda; these guys do not need to see what a lightweight you are, and you definitely don't need your inhibitions lowered. Kyle orders chips and curry for the table as you all decide on your meals.

The atmosphere is much different than at lunch, when the lore of being the 141 kept you insulated. John and Simon are scowling more than before, to the point where you suggest everyone heads back to base.

"Why?" Simon asks.

You look at him then over your shoulder to the small group playing darts, the few people at the bar, the man who was at your table and another woman, both making drinks behind the bar. "Oh, I don't know," you drawl. "Maybe because it looks like you're trying to stare the place down."

Simon's eyes snap to yours as Soap giggles. "She's got a point, Lt. Yeh look right pissed."

He turns slightly to see where Simon has been staring, his own face morphing from carefree to annoyed as Simon says, "It'd be fine 's long 's other people'd mind their fuckin' business."

You look at him pleadingly. "Then let's go, really. I want this to be nice for us all, and clearly you're bothered by something."

Simon looks at John who claps a hand on his shoulder. "Oz's right, Ghost. Let it go or we're gone." Though he's calm and the tone is light, John's words come across as a mild threat.

You make it through the meal without another incident, but as you get up to leave, the guys take up positions around you. It's impossible to miss the way John leads the way with Kyle and Soap chatting your ears off while Simon trails you silently.

Back at the barracks, you say your goodnights and turn in while the others meet in John's office. "Tha' was a bad idea," Ghost says. "Too many eyes on 'er."

"Not sure base is any better," Gaz says. "Plenty a' the rookies saw 'er as I walked 'er to lunch. Got the feeling some idiot is biding their time 'til we're gone."

Price looks around at them. "Is this something ya want? Truly?"

"How can we not, Cap?" Soap asks. "She's perfect. And perfect fer us." Gaz nods, and Ghost meets Price's eyes unblinkingly.

"Alright then. We got less than a week to get this done."

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write

[st7rnioioss]

۶ৎ FARMERS!DAUGHTER!READER x COWBOY!MATT STURNIOLO

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, fluff, reader thinking she might be pregnant, comforting, slight angst?, crying but matt comforts her, raging breeding kink, grinding/dry humping (f), kissing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), p in v, breeding/coming inside, slight overstimulation, masturbation (briefly), matt coming in her underwear (wow that's a lotttt)

you were pacing. walking back and forth in your room, hand to your stomach while you tried to push the sickening feeling of throwing up and fainting away at the same time.

for the past week or so, you’ve felt terrible. it wasn’t like a usual cold, plus, it was searing hot outside. and you didn’t catch the flu either. you’d been eating like normal, not stressed at all, and you hadn’t been anywhere near anything you’d never been close to before… you’ve had crazy morning sickness, sore breasts, and nausea, and you just couldn’t figure out why. until it hit you.

sure, you knew you and matt’s sex life was risky, considering his raging breeding kink and the way you literally let him breed you. but after having protected sex more than a few times, you decided to just get on birth control. it was the easy option, right? and now you’re here, nervously walking around, convinced there’d been a slight slip-up.

it didn’t take long before you were driving to matt’s house with a pregnancy test you hadn’t checked yet, with trembling hands knocking on his door while twirling anxiously with the hem of your skirt. you were completely aware you must look like another person like you had been sick for the past week. you just wanted him to be out somewhere, and then handle all this without anyone knowing.

“hey the- woah. woah, woah, hey, are you a’ight?” he asked when he opened the door, immediately letting his hands wander around your waist when he saw the way your eyes immediately teared up when they met his. he cradled you to his chest, shushing you when you let out a few soft sobs into the soft material of his flannel.

“darlin’, shhh.. hey, what’s got you all worked up, huh?” he questioned with a soft tone to his voice, bringing you inside to his kitchen, and heisting you onto the counter. gently, he tilted your head upwards by your chin, wanting to properly watch you while the other hand rested on your bare thigh. “c’mon, you can tell me, baby..”

you nodded slowly at his gentle words, letting out a long sigh followed by a sniffle. “it’s- um… well, i do- i don’t know how to say it.. it’s complicated.” you whimpered, resting your forehead onto his shoulder when he stepped closer, both his hands running down your sides.

“take your time, alright? i’m not goin’ anywhere..” he mumbled softly, brushing his fingers through your soft hair while pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. you kept your breathing somewhat steady, your mind reeling and heart going a million miles per hour. you didn’t wanna dance around the confession, so you decided to just rip the bandaid.

“matt, i think- i think i might be pregnant,” you whispered, keeping your face buried in his neck while speaking. you could easily feel the way his body tensed a little bit, his fingers stilling in your hair. he had no clue how to react, his mind completely blank when your words sunk in.

“wh- what?” he then said, shocked, but not exactly unhappy. he pulled back from you, looking down at your glossy eyes and pink nose as he cupped your face in his hands.

“i- i’m not sure, but.. i asked the lady at the pharmacy for symptoms and stuff.. i have- have a test. i haven’t checked it yet.” the test was stuffed in your back pocket, fishing it out to show matt, purposely turning it face down so you couldn’t see. your hand was slightly trembling. there were so many questions left unanswered. would he be happy? are you really gonna raise a kid? what wouldn’t your dad say?

he was completely in utter disbelief. yeah, he’d always insist on finishing inside of you, but you were on the pill, so it never crossed his mind you’d end up pregnant. but.. as wicked as it sounds, something inside him flicked on. you, walking around with his seed planted deep inside of you, forever marked you up with a little kiddo? gosh…

“it’s- gonna be okay. yeah? we’ll figure it out, i mean, maybe it’s negative. maybe you’re just a little ill, baby.” he left a fat kiss on your forehead, making you break a tiny smile. “yeah.. yeah, okay, maybe you’re right about that…” a long sigh followed your words, looking down at the test in your hand.

slowly, and carefully, you twisted it around, watching as the stripes slowly came to be visible. you immediately looked up at matt, a perplexed look on your face. would he be disappointed if it was positive? did he actually want the kid, or was it just that stupid kink? his wide eyes met yours, a faint reassuring smile growing on his lips.

the test was negative.

“are you happy?” he asked softly, his voice quiet but fully coherent. with a small nod, you smiled back weakly. “yeah. yeah, i’m happy. it’s fine, we’ve got plenty of time to have kids together…” you batted your eyes at him, smiling wider when he spoke. “yeah. i’m happy if you are,” he pulled you into a tight hug, leaving the test on the counter when you wrapped your arms around his neck to leave a kiss on his cheek.

“we’ll be alright..” his words were muffled, his lips starting to leave kisses down the side of your face while his fingers dug into your waist, lips reaching your neck and collarbone.

he knew it was fucked up, but the image of you knocked up with his kid made his head spin more than he’d like to admit. sure, he was sort of relieved when the test came negative, neither one of you was ready to raise a fucking child. but just the thought? his cum fucked deep inside of you, breeding you, until you had little kiddos running around? he was brick hard.

before any of you knew it, he’d been leaving tiny red marks down your neck, that he was sure would turn a darker purple tomorrow. your lips were parted, eyes fluttered shut in bliss while his teeth nibbled on your soft skin. “fuck, matt..” that little whine ignited the whole thing all over again, back to the start just a few days ago.

“god damnit, i can’t keep my hands off you..” he groaned, wrapping your legs around his waist to let his hands grab your ass while moving you to his couch, giving it a soft squeeze before slipping you carefully when you laid there, sprawled out on the couch. “i need you, baby…” your pretty voice sounded, looking up at him with a pleading look, a small pout plastered on your lips. gosh, that look made him want to fuck his cum inside you all over again, even make sure to hide the fucking pills you took, just to make you pregnant for real this time.

“you have no clue what you do to me,” his voice was gruff and rough, gently placing a knee between your legs while leaning down, his hands gripping the armrest for support before leaving a quick, teasing peck to your lips.

it wasn’t long before he was licking at your mouth, lewd noises of exchanging spit filling the room, along with a soft whimper slipping past your wet lips rubbing against matt’s. by now, you’re grinding down on his knee, a relief from the ache between your legs. carefully, you rolled your hips over his knee, leaving a slight wet spot on his jeans from the way you were already soaked through your panties. matt was quick to notice the way you almost pathetically rubbed yourself on his leg, disconnecting his lips from yours in a slow motion.

“shit, you want it that bad? hm?” he whispered into your ear, lips grazing your skin, making shivers run down your spine. he let go of the headrest with one hand, letting it slip under your skirt to feel your wet pussy grind onto his knee. his fingertips were immediately met with the drenched fabric, a smirk tugging on his still glistening lips from the desperate whine you let out.

“please, matt. i need you, so bad…” you pleaded with a sweet voice. he then quickly shifted your bodies, making you straddle his thigh while keeping his hands on your waist to have you on top of him. you yelped in surprise, carefully settling on his jean-clad thigh. “yeah? help yourself, darlin’..” his voice was teasing, almost daring as if to see if you’d actually give in—but he’d make you anyway.

you turned beet red, looking down at the thigh between your leg, resting deliciously against your needy pussy. “umm.. okay..” your voice was quiet, almost shy, when you rested your hands onto his shoulders, starting to tug your skirt off while standing up, before settling back onto his thigh with a nervous look.

matt was ogling at your hips with his jaw slack, watching the way your hips deliberately dragged along his thigh, a needy whimper of pleasure eliciting from your parted lips. you’d never done anything like this, the feeling almost overwhelming as your panties nudged at your clit whine you continued to hump his leg. matt was aching in his pants. he was one-hundred percent he’d never been so hard in his entire life, palming him through his jeans with a groan, the other hand resting on your hips to keep your pace somewhat continuous. he so desperately wanted to pump at his cock while watching you, but somehow the restraint made the whole thing much better.

“fuck! matt, please, just- just fuck me,” you moaned sweetly. but he didn’t give in to your repeated pleading. instead, he continued to watch the needy way you kept grinding down on his thigh, almost desperate to come already by the way you left a dark spot on the fabric below you. your eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows knitting into straight up pleasure while a particularly loud gasp sounded, your jaw going slack.

“come on, baby, you can keep going f’me, hm? soaking my fuckin’ thigh.. good girl,” he left a gentle pat to your cheek, listening your pathetic little whimpers and whines while your head was thrown forward. it was almost humiliating in a way, letting him watch you get yourself off in a desperate manner—but you enjoyed it, so there was nothing stopping you.

you continued to drag your needy clit along his tense muscle, before a sudden loud whimper slipped from your mouth, nails digging into his shoulder when you finished in your panties. he gently patted your cheek, watching your bottom lip get tucked between your lips as you let out needy and high-pitched whimpers. “juuuust like that.. you did so good for me, baby, soaking my fuckin’ thigh just like that?” your legs were trembling around his, cheeks almost sorching when you looked back up at him with a whimper.

not even five minutes had gone by, before you were bent over the armrest of the couch, palms and nails digging uncomfortably into the cushions—but that was the last think you were thinking about right now. what you were thinking about, was the way matt absolutely pounded into you, no signs of slowing down. you were drooling around his cock, the lewd squelching noises being heard besides your highs groans and whimpers.

“jesus- you’d look so fuckin’ good, all round and fucked pregnant by me, wouldn’t you?” he groaned into your ear, continuing to slam his hips into the curve of your ass, leaning back to watch the soft skin recoil back. he wasn’t expecting an answer from you, aware of how your mind was reeling from the shamelessly loud moans falling from your parted lips.

you were completely fucked into bliss, eyes stuck in the back of your head, mouth agape and head thrown forward. your mind didn’t even process what he was grossly whispering, too busy thinking about the way his hard cock was bruising your insides at all the right places.

“matt! s- so.. good..” was all you could muster out, leaving matt to chuckle. “yeah? you look so cute, darlin’. all stupid on my big cock, aren’t you? i bet you’d like for me to stuff you full..” again, he asked rhetorically, continuing his hard thrusts into your sloppy pussy while grabbing a good handful of your hair. “pl-please- i need.. t’cum..” you managed to babble, feeling his hand slide up your back to push you further down, him movements stilling for a moment, before he slammed back into you. your moans only grew in volume and pitch, clawing at the cushions.

“gonna fill you up sooo nicely, sweetheart.. fu- fuck!” he groaned, his thrusts starting to turn sloppy and weak when you clenched around him, almost desperate to feel him pump his cum into you. “please! gon- g’nna cum..!” you whimpered, before he pinched your clit between his fingers while nudging at that sweet spot inside you, making you shriek in pleasure. he was trying his best to hold back, but it got harder when you babbling and slurred your words between moans, the dirty squelching of your pussy only adding to the whole thing.

“matt, shittt.. i’m coming- i’m-“ you yelped, before squeezing around his throbbing cock when he rubbed your clit in circles. your legs trembled beneath you, making it nearly impossible to hold yourself up, but you managed to stay upright. “christ.. gonna fuck my cum so deep into ya… make you pregnant on purpose this time, yeah -” he groaned, his head thrown back while squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his cock start to leak the substance inside of you from jus the thought.

“- gonna hide those stupid, fuckin’ pills..” you were whining and writhing in overstimulation, your pussy raw and sensitive from his continuous thrusts—but his words only made you want to redo the whole process, let him make you cum over and over again. “matt, s.. stop, i can’t-“ but after all, the sensitivity and overstimulation got to you, making it hard to allow him to keep going.

your desperation and fucked out whimpers of a mix pain and pleasure only egged him further, gripping your hair tighter. “fuuuuck, princess. gonna stuff you full..” those were his last words, before his throbbing cock spilled it’s sticky liquid inside of you, finishing with one last thrust. you were both a moaning mess, his hand slowly slipping out of your hair, before pulling out of you. for a moment or two, he watched your glistening pussy leaking with his cum whenever you clenched around nothing. gosh, he was almost hard again from just the sight.

“jesus fuckin’ christ..” you panted, your chest heaving when you attempted to catch your breath. you then felt his hands reach for your panties, and the same time as the white fluid trickled down your inner thigh. “wha- what are you doing?” you looked back at him, seeing the way he starts to fist his sensitive cock.

“jus’- just wait..” he’s stroking his already spent cock, red and leaking from his previous release. you watched him in awe, your eyes flickering from the way he ran his thumb over his tip, to his face curling into one of pleasure,

“oh- oh my fuck..” he whimpered, quickly milking himself completely dry, by squirting the white remains into your panties. you were watching intently, your face turning more red by the second. he was so spent, finally letting go of his dick to focus on your leaking pussy. gently, he ran two fingers over your folds, eliciting a squeal from you. he then continued to push a mix of yours and his cum back into your puffy walls, making you moan out in pleasure before he stopped.

agonizingly slowly, he tugged your now completely ruined panties back up your legs, before letting them sit perfectly like they normally would. “shhh… feels good? doesn’t it?” he leaned down to press a kiss to your upper back, two fingers against pressing up against your pussy, this time pantie-clad. the icky feeling of his cum smearing over your pussy made you wince, a quiet gasp leaving your lips while he managed to pull his boxers back up.

“yeah.. i like it matt,” you got to stand back up, turning to him before you met his lips in a gentle kiss, his hands gripping at your waist. “mhm, gotta get you home to your daddy now, don’t ya think?” he mumbled against your lips, his tongue darting out to swipe across your bottom lip.

all you could do was nod dumbly, mind still fogging up from the uncomfortable, but yet delicious feeling between your legs, getting lost in the kiss.

more farmers!daughter!reader here!

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[archangeldyke-all]

Wait I was just thinking about this

What if jinx went out to run errands and took isha along with and and they come back looking VERY suspicious.

Untill you were about to interrogate them and they admit too finding a kitten on the street and taking it in. But you are not mad at them at all and you guys all collectively try to find a way to tell sevika. And when she finds out she doesn’t seem happy but she’s so freaking excited because she has a family now- something she had always dreamed for but didn’t think was achievable

-💌

i need fluff like this right now. like a million pounds of feathers.

(here's what i picture the cat looking like, btw hehe)

men and minors dni

you're in the kitchen chopping veggies for dinner, listening to the gentle jazz floating out of sevika's old office.

right now, sevika's in there rearranging furniture to turn her study into a room for jinx and isha. she's already got the bunk beds built (jinx claimed top) and now she's busy building some bookshelves and desks for the girls.

they've been living with the two of you for about a month now. and despite the fact that you and sev's sex lives have taken a massive blow, you've honestly never been happier.

the girls bring so much energy and laughter into your life. neither you or sevika ever wanted children of your own, but this feels... right. you're not their mothers and you never will be. but you are family now, and you wouldn't trade it for the fucking world.

sevika feels the same. she hasn't said it in so many words, but there's this look about her now-- she glows. she's stopped smoking because of isha's asthma. she's stopped drinking because vi's still freshly sober and comes around for dinner a few times a week. she's even started taking breaks with her prosthetic arm, letting herself walk around the house with just one arm-- a vulnerability she was never comfortable with before.

you throw your veggies on the pan, a nice sizzle sounding throughout the kitchen as you start to stir them around. the front door clicks open, and you wait for the sound of your girls thumping through the door like usual... but they don't. you turn the flame down, the sizzle lessening with it, and turn to listen closer.

jinx is whispering excitedly, and you can hear isha's excited half giggles as she listens. you grin. the girls are plotting something.

you turn the flame completely off, setting your spoon to the side and ripping off your apron, carefully tipetoeing across the kitchen to lean against the door.

"alright. sevika'll be easy to convince, all you gotta do is give her the puppy eyes... just like that, good job kiddo." jinx chuckles. isha gives a happy little chuckle, and jinx continues. "it's the missus i'm worried about. y'know what she says goes. if we don't convince her, sev'll be out too." jinx huffs.

you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at jinx's surprisingly accurate description of you and sevika's relationship.

isha makes a questioning noise, signing something you can't see to jinx. jinx hums, contemplating isha's suggestion, before speaking again. "what, y'mean like cookin' 'em both dinner or something nice? butter 'em up before we show 'em?" jinx asks. "that could work... dunno where we'd hide it until then though..."

"hide what?" you ask, pushing out of the kitchen just in time to watch isha and jinx jump and scramble to cover something up.

"heya sweetcheeks!" jinx greets, shoving a bundle of fabric into isha's hands. isha gawks at her, then turns around to hide the fabric pile from you. you chuckle, and jinx casually pushes isha behind her back. "how mucha that did you overhear?"

you giggle and tug on jinx's bangs, making her scowl a bit. "don't let sev catch you callin' me 'sweetcheeks'. she'll get jealous. show me what you two found." you say.

jinx huffs and tugs isha back out from behind her.

isha blinks up at you with her best puppy eyes, and you chuckle, flicking the rim of her miner's cap. "those only work on sevika." you say.

isha huffs and rolls her eyes in a way that she must've learnt from jinx-- then she unwraps the bundle in her hands.

"mmmew." a tiny little voice pipes up.

you gasp, and isha stops unwrapping the bundle to look up at you. "please tell me you guys didn't bring home a fucking baby." you plea. raising isha is one thing-- she knows how to use the fucking toilet already. but a newborn?! you're not sure if you and sevika could handle that...

jinx bursts into laughter and pulls the last bit of fabric away, and you sigh in relief when a scraggely, partially hairless cat blinks up at you from isha's arms. "mmmow?" it meows. you chuckle.

"where the hell'd you find this thing?"

isha grins at your positive reaction, then starts signing with both her arms full of cat. you can't make out much, but you manage to catch 'dumpster'. that explains the smell, then.

"we're callin' her chicken. 'cause her little bald belly looks like boiled chicken." jinx says, smiling just as wide as isha is.

you snort a little, and chicken reaches one of her paws out of isha's hands, like she's reaching out for you.

jinx cackles. "chicken likes you!"

you huff and shake chicken's little paw. "so what. you expect us to let you have a cat now?" you ask.

you know you're going to say yes. you just need the girls to grovel a little more-- you can't let them know you're just as soft for 'em as sevika is, otherwise there'll be no authority in your house.

"oh c'mon! we'll put the litterbox in our room so it doesn't stink up the house! i'm already comin' up with a self cleaning litter box invention-- and she can just eat our scraps! she'll be good for pest control! you know the building's been having problems with cave rats lately..." jinx trails off, pulling chicken out of isha's arms and dangling the surprisingly relaxed cat in front of you. "please sweetcheeks? i'm such a cute kitty." jinx says in a silly little voice, shaking chicken a bit as she talks.

isha sticks her lower lip out in a pout and clasps her hands under her chin in a 'please' motion.

you hold your stern glare for as long as you can before sighing and rolling your eyes. both girls burst into cheers and giggles before you can even say anything.

"fine." you huff. isha darts forward to tackle your legs in a hug, and you stumble a bit before giggling and lifting the girl up into your arms, hugging her properly. jinx and chicken join you quickly after, chicken meowing in discomfort as she's squished in the family hug. "but you two gotta talk to sev. she doesn't like animals, y'know."

"like how she doesn't like me or like how she doesn't like broccoli?" jinx asks. you giggle.

"what're you all whispering about?" sevika asks.

this time, all three of you jump and turn around to guiltily face your wife.

"mrow." chicken greets from jinx's arms. sevika's eyes widen.

"what the fuck is that?!"

isha steps forward. a cat. duh. she signs. you bite your lip to keep from laughing. jinx cackles. sevika flicks isha's cap.

"sevika, this is chicken, the newest member of our fucked up little family."

sevika blinks rapidly, and you watch in amusement as she tries to process the situation. "fuckin' ugly cat-- i don't--" suddenly, tears well up in sevika's eyes.

your stomach sinks, and you dart forward, reaching up to cup sevika's face. "what's wr--"

sevika cuts you off by collapsing against you, burying her face against your neck as she cries.

isha's big golden eyes stare up at the pair of you, shock on her face for a moment, before she just darts forward and hugs sevika's legs, nuzzling against her thigh.

jinx stands there awkwardly for a moment, chicken still in her hands. isha grunts and waves her hand for jinx to join you, and jinx sighs, rolling her eyes before moving chicken to one arm and half-heartedly wrapping her free arm around sevika's shoulders.

"fuck, fuck, sorry." sevika cries against you, sniffling and wiping her snot and tears on your shirt sleeve. you just rub her back as she collects herself. "sorry." she says again.

"'s okay." you whisper.

"...so does this mean chicken can't stay?" jinx asks. sevika lets out a shaky breath.

"why the fuck are you callin' that poor thing chicken?"

"'cause her belly looks like boiled chicken!" jinx says proudly, hauling chicken up into sevika's face. sevika just snorts.

"she's staying in your room. if i ever have to clean a single fucking cat turd, i'm puttin' it back out on the streets." sevika relents.

jinx and isha burst into squeals, both quickly darting forward to hug her, jinx even pressing a kiss to her cheek, before they dart off with chicken in tow to go check out their new bedroom set up.

you can hear the excited gasps as they enter their new place-- you haven't seen it yet but you're certain sevika went all out for her kids. you kiss her scalp, still holding her in the living room as jinx and isha start giving chicken the grand tour of their bedroom.

"you okay?" you ask.

sevika sighs and shakes her head. "these fucking kids are making me fucking soft." she groans miserably. you cackle.

"it's adorable, babe."

"it's-- it's fucking annoying! jinx called us a family and i just-- fuckin' burst into tears?! what the fuck?" she squawks. you laugh, kissing her tears up from her cheeks.

"they're happy tears, though, right?" you ask.

sevika huffs and nods. "who woulda thought i'd ever cry happy tears about being associated with jinx?" she asks.

you giggle and shrug. "i always had a feeling." you say.

sevika rolls her eyes, and then leans forward to kiss you.

[hanjisungslag]

attack on titan headcanons #12

synopsis: saying i love you for the first time ♡

characters involved: eren, mikasa, armin, sasha, connie, jean, reiner, annie, bertolt, levi, erwin & hange

notes: i bought a new jeans album for the first time & i got 5 photo cards?! (i got haerin btw)

☆ eren jaeger - he said it first

oh he always knew, he just refused to admit it. even if he admitted he liked you and maybe you even started dating, which is great and all but LOVING you was a different story. he didn’t know what’d he do if he lost you. however, it’s you. he couldn’t keep it locked away for that long! he spilled the beans in the midst of a conversation and you, of course, said it back.

“so, yeah! i was just sitting there though, i didn’t do anything.”

“y/n?”

“yeah…?”

“i love you”

your jaw dropped to the floor and you stuttered trying to get your words out “i-i love you too, eren! oh my god.”

☆ mikasa ackerman - you said it first

she already told you in a million other ways minus using her words. you knew, she knew, everyone knew!! she would rather show her love through her actions or even a hand squeeze here and there - you needed to be the one to actually say it.

you walked into your room to find mikasa folding your clothes “mikasa, you don’t need to do that for me!”

“but, i want to” she smiled at you

“aww, well thank you.” you gave her a kiss on the cheek “i love you.”

☆ armin arlert - he said it first

oh my gosh, you were so close to telling him until he blurted it out! he knew he loved you but he wanted to wait a while, he felt like he was maybe moving too fast and then he said it and then it was like omg i didn’t mean to, this is really awkward— but, you reassured him that you felt the exact same 🤍

“i love you!” armin suddenly blurted out

“i-i mean… sorry, that was probably too soon. this is going to be awkward now isn’t it? god, i’m sorry, if you want to leave i understand-”

you placed a finger over his lips and giggled “armin, i feel the exact same way. i promise. i was even gonna say it first but you beat me to it!!”

☆ jean kirsten - he said it first

he was sooo nervy! he’s such a romantic boy deep down and he was never quite sure if it was like or if it had turned to love yet until it hit him one day. you guys were just going about your usual day but for some reason, you were even more captivating that day - in the way you walked, the way you talked, something about you just made jean MELT. that’s when he knew :’).

jean was mesmerised by you today, he was non-stop staring even when you were talking to other people. you strutted your way over to your boyfriend

“well, hello” he said

you giggled “what’s up with you today?”

“just… i love my partner.”

your eyes widened and jean giggled “l-love…? well, me too! of course, i love you!”

☆ connie springer - you said it first

he was so confused and scared about these big feelings. he didn’t wanna ruin anything for him nor you and just gahhh! he felt so silly asking anyone about it as well because when you love someone, surely you know? and he did know. he was just scared. you specifically told him on a date, you guys watched the stars and you confessed. he was so relieved to hear those words and his worries suddenly went away, as well.

the air was just crisp enough and the stars were looking particularly shiny that night so what better time to confess your love for your boyfriend than right now!

“that cloud looks like booty cheeks”

you laugh “wow connie, you’re so romantic.”

“sorry” he giggled

“but that’s what i like about you. no, it’s what i love about you. i love you, connie”

“y-you do?” he sat up “oh my god, y/n! i love you too!”

☆ sasha braus - she said it first

honestly, sasha is not the type of girl to let the world that you guys live in get here down! she’d rather live her life to the fullest with friends, family, food and now, you. on a random thursday, she just felt like saying that she loved you. so, she did.

“y/n, i have something to confess.”

you stopped whatever you were up to “okay… is it bad?” you asked nervously

“oh god, no!” sasha reassured you “i just wanted to say… i love you!” she opened her arms wide

you ran to embrace her immediately “sasha! where did this come from? i mean- i love you too.”

☆ reiner braun - he said it

he knew. oh, he knew BIG TIME. but obviously, he had his whole back and forth situation with being a solider vs being a warrior… and the other two, bertolt and annie, had to remind him why they were there. he was also thinking, how the flip did he not only get a partner when they’re the devil but now he’s fallen IN LOVE? he tried his very best to contain his feelings but he couldn’t one day because when you were talking, your eyes looked too pretty and he just said it.

“then me and her got chased allll through town!” you were telling reiner a story, you laughed at your old antics and your eyes were sparkling.

reiner couldn’t hold it in anymore, he laughed and said “god, i love you.”

☆ bertolt hoover - you said it

he was sooo happy and so mushy about you when he realised but he got his booty whipped back into warrior mode and then he had the same reaction as reiner. like what has he actually gotten himself into. he really really tried to bottle it up and he did, but then you confessed. honestly, bro forgot he was from marley for a solid 6 months, he was on such a high.

“so what did you want to talk about, y/n..?” bertolt asked, clearly nervous

“i just wanted to say…” you couldn’t help but smile and finally say “i love you!”

bertolt began to tear up and all he could do was embrace you “you do? you really do? of course, i do too. i love you, a lot actually.”

☆ annie leonhart - you said it

she bottled that shit TF UP! she, unlike the two dull boys she came with, recognised that she loved you but knew she had a job to do, unfortunately. if it was up to her, she’d drag you back to marley and live happily ever after with you (and her dad, ofc). but, of course, you said it. she was obviously estatic but also like, ffs why would you say that😭. made her life A LOT happier but also a bit more difficult…

“annie, i love you.” you said with a rather nervous look on your face, you weren’t sure she would say it back but you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

she stared at you, blankly for a while until she burst into a wide smile and she scoffed “y/n. i love you too.”

you guys hugged and little did you know, annie’s smile quickly faded as reality hit her. what was she meant to do now?

☆ levi ackerman - you said it first

so incredibly terrified. he felt his feelings for you growing stronger everyday but in turn, so did his urge to breakup with you BUT, that was purely because he wanted you to be safe. everyone he has ever loved had died and nothing could prepare him for the pain like you dying would cause. in the end, you did confess to him one day. he wept, he wept and he wept in your arms. just knowing someone loved him enough to admit it, brought him to tears. the fact that you loved him! and he loved you!! but also, there was still that horribly worrying thought in the back of his mind, but he will leave it in the back of his mind for this moment.

“i love you.” three words levi always wanted to hear but made him so scared. he fell into your arms and cried, between his cries he managed to sniffle out;

“i love you too, y/n.”

☆ erwin smith - both admitted it

you guys are just like, spiritually connected. you decided on the same day to confess that you loved each other, it was such a memorable moment for the both of you. it was on your annual date night that you guys had every fortnight and erwin chose to tell you he loved you this day because he likes to be a bit extra for you ;).

erwin grabbed your hands “y/n…”

“erwin…” you replied, “i have something to tell you” he confessed

“so do i…” you both looked at each other, confused “say it on three?” you suggested and erwin nodded. you both counted and said

“i love you!” this caused you both to burst out into laughter, what a coincidence.

☆ hange zoë - they said it first

genuinely almost proposed to you😭. hange takes you and being in love with you, very seriously. it’s like a full time job for them - but in a good way, duh. they wanted to make it fun and special, though.

you and hange were the only ones left out on the training grounds which, of course meant, you had to play tag. you both chased and ran, and did a lot of laughing until you both fell from exhaustion.

as you both caught your breath, hange wrote something in the ground - “i love you, y/n.”

you looked at them and they had this wide smile… they proceeded to say “i love you, y/n!” you smiled back at them and of course said “i love you too, hange!” you both laughed.

hange then proceeded to jump on you and scream “NOW LETS GET MARRIEDDD”

[bunnipuffs]

it's a little dark, but abby using reader as they sleep, consensual ofc ^^

yesss …… i love somno so much thank u for requesting anon !!!!!! my 2nd somno request muhehehe (✿◠‿◠) enjoyyyy <3<3<3

꒰ cw. somnophilia, oral sex, tribbing ꒱

⋆˙⟡ abby is sooo bored. she can't help but play with you while you're sleeping!

you've been asleep for hours now, the bright sun that was once shining in through your bedroom window now replaced by the darkness in the sky. the curtains are drawn, the soft breeze of your fan brushing through the fabric. abby sighs when she looks at you, your eyes are still closed. it doesn't look like you're going to wake up any time soon.

abby is bored. ridiculously bored, she's gone through every instagram story on her feed and scrolled through a million stupid videos on tiktok. just for 30 mins, abs! you said, and now your so called "power nap" has turned into full blown rem sleep. you always had a habit of doing this — your supposed short naps turning into long hours, abby had gotten used to it by now, but she was just so bored today. nothing to watch, nothing else to do except stare at you like it would magically wake you up. you were supposed to be hanging out. that's what you had called abby over for. instead, all she had been doing for the past two hours is sitting on your floor alone, phone in hand.

abby opens up another app before closing out of it minutes later, also boring, there wasn't anything interesting on her phone. she could eat, but you would've gotten mad at her if she ate without you. so that wasn't an option either. abby sets her phone on your floor, head falling to rest on the edge of your bed. she huffs out a breath before getting up, crawling to lay right next to you. she looks at your face for a moment. eyes closed, slow steady breaths leaving your lips. you look so... vulnerable. abby is a little fascinated by it. this is the first time she's really looked at you while you slept. when she stayed the night, you both usually went to bed at the same time. but now she had a full view of you. nothing that could potentially distract her — she looks at your eyelashes and the other features on your face that she's never noticed before. you're completely unaware, maybe you're dreaming about something too. she gives an experimental poke to your cheek. nothing.

you're dead asleep. and now that abby is close enough, she can hear your breathing more clearly. she says your name in your ear, poking at your cheek again. you don't move at all, or show any signs of waking up. just responding with the same quiet breaths you've been letting out for hours. your cheek is smushed against your pillow and your mouth is slightly open. abby smiles a little seeing it. you always slept like that.

abby takes a thumb and runs it over your bottom lip, pressing down. it's plump, pink. she's kissed those lips a hundred times and even after a hundred more, she could never get tired of it. always so glossy and pretty. she swipes at your lip one more time, before gently pushing her thumb inside of your mouth. she leaves it there for a minute, waiting for you to move or wake up from the feeling, but you don't. you're still asleep. abby lets out a breath when she’s decided she waited long enough, pushing in deeper. her thumb rests on your tongue. she moves it around slowly, pushing down on the muscle, playing with it. your mouth is warm and wet, so inviting, it makes her shove it in a little deeper. she spots a small stream of your saliva trickling down the side of your mouth, your mouth had been open for a while now, and she takes it upon herself to move closer to you. her mouth hovers where you’re making a mess, careful, before her own tongue pokes out to lick it up from your skin.

she smiles to herself when she sees that you dont stir at all. you’ve always been a heavy sleeper, you could sleep through all your alarms and stay asleep during a fire alarm drill. abby likes that about you, she finds it cute. but now it seems a little more dirty. that she can do this to you and you’d never know, wake up with drool running out the sides of your mouth and something sticky settled between your thighs. the thought makes abby groan out loud — a little too loud, and she’s worried that it might’ve woken you up when your tongue moves around her thumb. nope. still asleep.

abby gains a little more confidence when she sees that you’re not waking up from everything she’s done so far, taking her thumb out of your mouth. she licks off the rest of your saliva, she takes her hands and carefully tugs at your shorts. abby pulls them off slowly, eyes glued to your face to make sure you’re still asleep. when your shorts are bunched at your ankles, abby moves you over until you’re laying flat. you’re wearing one of your tight tank tops, the one with lace at the top and shows off your cleavage a little more. not abby’s shirts like you usually do, it would’ve gotten in the way.

and besides, abby likes this top a lot more.

abby stares at your body for a while. she’s glancing between your pretty cunt and your face. she’s staring at you for a while before she gets handsy again, shuffling to lay in between your thighs. her hands rest on your plush thighs — not gripping, but just touching you. abby is face to face with your pussy now, your clit staring right back at her. she licks at her bottom lip before attaching it to your bud, soft kitten licks to the area. her nose is nudged right against your pelvis, a soft hum into your pussy. abby takes a second to look at you, finding your eyes still tightly shut. your chest rising softly. good. abby thinks, she has you all to herself.

the room is quiet except for the buzz of your fan and the slurping in between you, and all abby can think about is pressing her own cunt against yours, rubbing and grinding till she comes. it would be so easy. abby feels a throbbing in her pussy as she eats you out, aching to get herself on you. she spits on your cunt before pulling away, dragging down her own pants, her underwear along with it, throwing it on your floor. abby lifts one of your legs and places it right over her shoulder — taking one last glance at your sleeping face, unconscious, no sign of you breaking from sleep, before pressing her cunt right against yours. abby moans at the feeling of your wet pussy, the slick of her own spit and her arousal. it's sloppy, filthy, and abby is holding onto your leg as gently as she can so you don't wake up, but the way she's humping at your pussy is far from gentle. she's dragging herself from the bottom of your cunt to the very top, a soft squelch heard each time. abby groans when her clit bumps against yours, pressing a kiss to your leg.

it's only getting wetter, it's like your body knows that it's being used — you're getting sticky yourself, slick smearing all over your inner thighs and your folds. abby feels it too, the wetness you're adding to hers, your arousals mixing together. it's so messy, and abby ruts into you harder when she realizes you're accepting her even in this state, your limp body shifting up the bed as she thrusts against you. the glide is so wet and easy, and abby's tightening her grip on your leg at the overwhelming pleasure. she takes a quick peek at your face, and she isn't surprised to see the same thing she's been looking at this whole time, her sweet unconscious girlfriend. oblivious to the fact that she's using your body for her own benefit. it made abby wetter, knowing that you aren't aware of it. looking at your sleeping body rock with every thrust, completely pliant, switched something on inside of abby. it turned her on to see you so powerless, vulnerable, she could do anything she wanted. and she was.

"mm, baby, making me feel so good.." abby whispers, practically slapping her cunt against yours. rough, hard, fast, she's chasing her orgasm, the noisy plap! plap! plap! filling your room. she throws her head back when she presses harder, her cunt right on yours, rubbing quickly. the squelch is pornographic, your arousal stringing together with abby's. it's not long now, the sensitivity on her cunt is too much to bear, you're both so wet. abby drags herself over your pussy one more time before she comes, hard, a loud moan of your name coming with it, she's rutting against you through her high, heavy breaths falling from her lips. her eyes find you again when she pulls away, almost on instinct, but your face is completely neutral. opposite from abby's. her face flushed red, sweat dripping down the sides of her face. she feels a little bad when she glances back to your used cunt, your puffy folds dripping with slick. she may have went a little bit overboard... but she wasn't bored.

tag list ! ♡

@hyperbabes

[xxepherr]

i have another hasan fic idea!! (if your open to requests)

reader is a popstar and releases a surprise single (like "nasty" or "positions" by ariana grande) and he reacts to it on stream and is blushing and flustered listening to it🤭

.ೃ࿐SURPRISE SINGLE

summary — in which you drop a surprise single conveniently while hasan is streaming, and that means he has to react to it on principle.

pairings — hasan piker x popstar!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — none

word count — 1750

note — i am SO open to requests!!!!! i don't personally think he'd blush but i think he'd get flustered word-wise if that makes sense. like SUPER caught off guard by it all. not my best work but i tried </3

WOULD HASAN CONSIDER YOU a closed off person? no. you weren't necessarily secretive either, so when you kept yourself locked away in the studio hasan had put together for you, your head in the clouds for months, he knew something was up.

he wasn't sure what exactly, just that your hands were constantly covered in pen ink by dinner time, and that you hummed the same tune as a mellow afterthought. or the way you disappeared "to the studio" but you never took your notebook with you, and usually came home with your hair a different way or covered in stray glitter.

hasan paid attention, he knew you had an album you were working on that was due to be released later in the year, but you were never this quiet about it. you bounced ideas off him, you let him sit in the studio with you and brainstorm what sound you wanted until you got distracted and gave it up for the day. it was the reason why you usually went to a proper recording studio with producers more often than needed.

either way, he trusted you. he didn't want to pry as much as it would ease the constant itch in his brain. you'd lost quite a bit in simply just dating him in the first place — people didn't like the fact that you were dating a political commentator, but you moved past it fairly easily. ignorance was truly key to happiness. you were happy.

it was like any other day. you woke up, put kaya's harness on her and held the unattached leash separately ( just in case you ran into other dogs and their owners on the way ) and went out for a run on your normal circuit in the neighbourhood. when you got back, you kissed your boyfriend through the car window as he left to go meet his personal trainer at the gym. you made a simple breakfast of cereal and fruit and retreated back to what austin had started calling your cave.

it was for one last time in a while, just to prepare a few things so that you could immediately promote the single once it dropped. it was all lined up and awaited the click of a button . . . just hours from now. you felt jittery with excitement, the secret of a few months so close to being exposed to millions.

HASAN came home and did as he usually did — ate a ridiculously protein fueled meal, took a shower, prepared his things for stream, and then joined you for an episode of the show you were currently watching. in fairness, it was the first time in a while he'd joined you or the show part of that plan, something he was incredibly confused about but not exactly bothered by. it was nice, cuddled up together on the couch, sharing moments together that weren't meals or naps or brief moments you'd bring his food to him while he was locked in on whatever he was talking about on stream.

"i have to get up," hasan's chuckle was breathy, his fingers trying to pry your hands off his bicep. you clung to him with all the strength you had, a whine building in the back of your throat.

"five more minutes," you sighed. you both knew five minutes turned to ten which then turned to at least thirty. once he had been a whole two hours late because you wouldn't let go of him, all to the point where he considered just streaming with you clinging to him like a backpack. he wouldn't, of course, but it was definitely still a thought. he knew you wouldn't care anyway, your lyrics were quite . . . questionable and anyone could decipher what your relationship was like without having to physically see it.

"you wouldn't give me five minutes when you were off being secretive," he challenged lightly, eyes rolling in a playful manner. "i promise i'll take more breaks than usual to come see you," it was a common form of negotiation in situations such as these, one you couldn't argue with.

if you were interested, you'd sit in the chair off camera that murat usually sat in, or you'd sit in the armchair he put in the room just for you to read a book while he chatted politics. you wouldn't be doing that today, not even popping in for a quick hello to ask him something like you normally did. not today.

you let go of his arm, doing so in a way that made it look like he'd finally pried your hands away, and pressed your lips against his cheek. "fine . . ." you drawled in mock disappointment. "go do your job or whatever."

he laughed, standing up from the plush couch and disappearing around the corner. you tapped on your phone, the wallpaper of you and hasan posing with his mum in front of a gingerbread house from christmas last year greeting you with the time. you had a few hours to kill before the single's release, and so in the meantime you could tidy up a few things before his parents arrived later tonight.

HASAN, DESPITE POPULAR BELIEF, didn't actually get annoyed as easily as perceived. things had to pile up and really push every single one of his buttons to create an outburst, and one thing that certainly did that was some dumbass spamming the same thing over and over.

"dude, i can't fucking stand dumbasses like this," he sputtered out his usual rant, one that at least half of his chat could probably recite word for word. "shut the fu—" he cut himself off when he opened the link in a separate tab, a snippet of a sound he hadn't heard before paired with what he knew was footage of the richard nixon presidential library. the part that caught him off guard was that your youtube channel's name was displayed at the bottom as he paused it.

oh. it all made so much sense now. all the hours spent holed up in your studio . . . all the hidden secrets and the sudden shutting of your notebook whenever you were close enough . . . oh.

"okay," hasan cleared his throat, dragging it over to the main screen. he didn't make a big spectacle on unbanning the person who spammed the link because how could he be mad? and set the music video back to the beginning. he couldn't not watch it, not when he'd reacted to all your other songs and music videos on stream. "quick break so we can watch this."

heaven sent you to me, i'm just hopin' i don't repeat history.

already, he was justifying it in his head as if he really had to. the title, positions, had him a little nervous as if you hadn't written suggestive songs about your relationship before. it was a little more obvious in the target demographic ( himself, mainly ) when you, in the music video, were clearly meant to be depicted as the president of the united states.

boy, i'm tryna meet your mama on a sunday. then make a lotta love on a monday.

okay, it shouldn't have been a huge deal. it wasn't. once again, this was no different from what you had written before, if anything, this was probably more toned back. even with that, the fact that he had no warning about you dropping this song whatsoever had his face feeling warm at the contents.

switchin' them positions for you, cookin' in the kitchen and i'm in the bedroom . . .

he was uncharacteristically silent through the rest of the song, not glancing away from the video on his monitor. not even to stare at either one of his chat that he had open. he only snapped out of his daze when the lyrics begun to fade and the door to the room swung open.

"thoughts?" he heard your voice before he saw you, a skip in your step as you made it over to stand behind his chair. you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes scanning the chat that he had finally started scrolling through again like he wasn't just at a loss for words.

"uh, i, uh," he stuttered momentarily, clearing his throat. the messages he scrolled through were turning into various greetings directed at you. you giggled softly in his ear too quiet for his mic to pick up. "you were fucking amazing, when aren't you?" he just managed to grasp his bearings, looking at you through his monitor.

"aw, i think your face is even a little pink," you leaned even closer, squinting as if to try see it through his beard. tone riddled with tease, "did i do all that?"

hasan glanced away, scoffing out a laugh that you knew was the result of him feeling flustered. he was never super vocal whenever he was embarrassed, but all the signs were there. his body heat had skyrocketed, and he twisting one of his silver rings with one hand while tapping the desk with his other. mission accomplished, you supposed. the secret song was all worth it to witness this.

"thought you'd appreciate me being the president," you shrugged, a grin spreading across your face when he didn't answer "would i be the hottest president ever?"

"mhm, i don't know," he pretended to think, "have you seen obama? man, he could hit a three."

you turned your head slowly, your eyes locking with the obama cutout leaning against the wall behind the small cutout of queen elizabeth and bernie sanders. on numerous occasions when you sat in the room while he was working or when they used to do the podcast in here, you would have to get up and turn it around so you didn't feel like obama was staring into your soul.

"yeah, okay," rolling your eyes, you straightened back up, mindlessly lifting your hands up to fluff up the back of his hair. "i'll let you get back to talking about . . ." you glanced at his other monitor, "elon musk." the face you pulled was enough to show your subtle disgust because you knew one word would have your pr bombarding your phone and you didn't really want to deal with that today.

"i'll take an encore of positions later," hasan added as an afterthought as your fingers left his hair and you waved goodbye to his stream.

"of the song or . . ." you raised an eyebrow at him, and he winked at you in response.

"surprise me."

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~LITTLE DEATH

tw; MDNI, nsfw content ahead, insecure!reader, chubby!reader, smut, masturbation, BTW IF YOU KNOW ME IRL NO YOU DONT SHUT UP

Were you living or just breathing? You couldn't decide anymore. It was fairly familiar to the older stories you read in books, except for one fact, - It didn't have a happy ending so far, no boyfriend or prince charming.

You considered giving up your life to be a nun, at that point. But you can't do that, cause you're not a virgin anymore. Though with the amount of experience you had? You could be considered one. People pretend they have happy lives for the sake of pretending, to keep up a facade, for some reason it's much more important than actually being happy. You weren't into that thing. You felt how you felt and always showed it, that was the good part about you. You've gotten the same thing your whole life. "No, you're.. A good friend, I just.. Wouldn't date you, in a million years." From all your friends. Until him, anyway. A strong military man as your neighbor? You bet your ass you were gonna drool over him. Who wouldn't? Those muscles, that mask you had a strange thing for, and the way he dressed, his silent nature, he was like the whole package! There was only one problem. You knew he would never go for you. Life was boring at all times. No boyfriend to keep you occupied, just a stupidly used vibrator and your hands. No sex, a dead-end job, minimum wage, and an apartment that wasn't exactly the best. Not that it was the worst, either, you couldn't exactly complain. You didn't see Simon around much, as much as you would've liked to. He had missions to go on, debriefs, he left for weeks, months. The only times you've ever seen him around was rare occasions, like holidays. But on a certain night, that changed. You were out at a bar, with your friends - figuring you could loosen up a bit. The clock hit midnight and figuring you wouldn't get laid anyway- you headed home.

And there he was, in the elevator, with you. But it was different this time around, you felt him looking at you. When you looked towards him, he looked straight into your eyes. Silence erupted the small elevator and it broke like glass being slammed on the floor when he spoke, "Your tits are half out in that. I wouldn't wear it again if I were you. I could practically rip them off of you with a finger." He said, and looked at you, still stared, like he said nothing to you.

And it flustered you. You haven't had sexual interactions with a man in years- how wouldn't it? You blushed, and tried to open your mouth but all that came out was a measly, "thanks" but what you were thanking him for? You had no fucking idea, and hoped he wouldn't ask. The elevator shortly after arrived and he went to his, and you went to your door. This was the first sexual sentence probably you've ever gotten from a man whom you actually find the most attractive, and it made you feel a certain way. So even if it wasn't with a man, you knew you'd have fun that night. All by yourself.

Or so you thought. ~~ Laying on his bed, watching the damn TV and trying to find at least one good show or movie to pass the time with, Simon was unsuccessful of finding anything worth his time, so he found the show he usually watched- Dr. House, re-watching for the 6th time this week.

Halfway through the episode, and he heard it. Faintly, more of a distant echo rather than something that's loud, but it caught his attention. It made him interested, it made him feel a certain type of way. Did he hear it right? Was he hallucinating things, too desperate? That's when he heard it again. Sweet. Honey-like, a fucking addiction that sound was, and in that moment he cursed the walls for being so paper-thin, where-as he could hear your moans. He felt like a fucking creep, listening and actually enjoying hearing the nice cute lady next door touch herself- but he couldn't help himself. He lowered the volume of the tv, only slightly so he could hear more - he figured if he could hear your moans, you could hear his TV. He didn't wanna make things suspicious - and he SURE as hell didn't want you to stop. He swallowed. He leaned up against the wall, and he felt pathetic for having his head back against it, listening to your moans, the vibration sound coming from your bedroom. And fuck, he hated it, he hated how turned on it made him- how aroused he was. He swore- he would just listen, there's no harm in that, right? But that idea was quickly ruined when you turned up the speed and moaned louder- figuring he couldn't hear or care- getting more confident. He started hating himself even more when he realized his cock was getting chubbed up just by the sound of your moans. Was he really gonna get hard over nothing? And especially over you? He can't help it. You sounded like a fucking pornstar, and that outfit you wore today just made everything worse. It made him feel so much worse, but he just couldn't stop his hands from reaching in, from reaching his boxers- and inside. He told himself- this isn't his fault, right? It's yours, yours and you should be punished, punished for reducing him to do this, for not making a move. But he was wondering, what the fuck were you imagining? But the thought made him angry- jealous, what if it isn't him? It made him feel strange. He brushed the thought off and listened to your moans, the rhythmic vibration- and he decided to match the pace. It felt more intimate, more deep- and it also made him feel like an absolute pervert, a dickhead, but it felt so good. He imagined you, your plump body, your tits, and how he would touch them. Hold you down, sit you on his lap in front of a mirror when he pounded inside you. Going faster. ~ Vibrations fastened up and your moans were louder than before, and as much as he started loving your moans more, he started hating himself more with each passing moment. Snapping out of it while touching himself- he swallowed and looked down at his body. "Fuck, what am I even doing? This is insane." He pulled his hands out of his pants, ready to button up- stop this madness because of his guilt. That's when the question in the back of his mind got answered- hearing it, faintly- but still his ears picked it up as the loudest sound. "Simon~" And all the guilt was suddenly forgotten when he practically gripped himself, he was sweating hard, blushing, did it suddenly get too hot in his room? Was it the air conditioning? He swore it was- he had to get it fixed. It definitely wasn't the fact he was touching himself to his sweet little neighbor who's the type to bring cookies and pretend everything is fine. He touched himself, to your rhythm again- to your moans. Imagining he was there with you- it made him feel less guilty knowing you did the same. Because fuck, he would love to be, he figured he'd just slam your door open in a few minutes to go over and fuck you himself- but he couldn't. He wasn't a creep after all, right? ..More like, not brave enough. Definitely a creep enough.

Your moans were heavenly for him. He couldn't hold it for too long anymore- he swore he almost came in his pants even when he heard you moan his name. He cursed under his breath, "Fuck, like a teenage boy," He whispered as he looked down at himself, entire body sweaty, red, hot. He should've stopped. He should stop. But he can't. "Simon, please take me. Please fuck me, please, please, make me yours, all yours-" God fucking damnit, was this a cruel joke on him? He swallowed. His hand worked faster than before and he was on his peak, when he tried to slow down- guilt creeping up again just slightly but not enough for him to care. He heard your moans, and he swallowed. Your begging. He wants to take you more than anything. He tried not coming in 5 seconds after that moan- and he was doing good, and that's when you fucked it up for him. You came. He heard you come- and he heard you scream practically. "Sir- y-yes, just like that! T-thank you sir!" You screamed like he was the one doing it to you, not the vibrator- and it fueled his god complex, his ego. He swallowed and that's when he hit. Head thrown back against the wall. He was breathing heavy, he was fucked up, sweaty, and his mouth fell open as he couldn't find an alternative fast enough to cover his own mouth, so he simply let it out. "Fuuuuuck baby, that's my good girl.." He came. It felt like death, like his mind was numb, like he was drowning. A little death - this was the hardest he's ever come. Silence, full on fucking silence- and for the first time he felt afraid. Did he fuck up? Did you hear him? Odds are you did, but if you didn't - he'll start thanking god on his knees. But even if you did, there was nothing he could do other than clean his own pants and the bed he made a mess on, and get ready for bed. He had a long night. And so did you. ~~ The next morning, you were in the elevator- coming home from buying groceries. Well, awkward, because he also was just doing the same and getting in. When he saw you go in he debated to just let the elevator pass and go on the stairs- but he realized that would just make it more awkward. So he swallowed and got in the elevator, holding his bag, while you held yours. He cleared his throat, staring at you up and down and looking away. This time you spoke, and it was like a knife cutting through the tension. "...So, rough night, huh?" He didn't even hesitate before he immediately without a second of breathing said, "For fucking sure."

A/N: yeah nah idk anymore, possible part 2 might be coming, also for my babies who dont know, just search up the meaning of little death, love yall

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Ｓｗｅｅｔｅｓｔ Ｐｉｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: sex worker!mingyu x chubby!fem!sex worker!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Summary: While spending the weekend at a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, a risky late night comment of yours draws the attention of your crush who happens to be in the same city and wants to see if you're all talk or about that action.

♡ Warnings: you're both spicy content creators, drinking, unprotected sex, Gyu's dick is kinda really huge, size kink for sure, stretching, riding, rough sex, doggystyle, clit play, ass slapping, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, dirty talk, switch Gyu/reader

♡ A/N: I usually put a sweet artistic statement in this space but I don't have a sweet artistic statement. I have a hot girl playlist and Mingyu's existence which is exactly how we ended up here. It's Mingyu, for the love of goddess, can you blame me?

This was never where you thought you’d end up. When you joked with your best friend, a successful OnlyFans girl, about starting one if your job kept working your nerves you hadn’t imagined actually doing it. Yet here you are, 8 months after that tipsy girl’s night, with a hefty following on social media and enough subscribers to never have to set foot in that job ever again. 

Like any other job it has its ups and downs but having your best friend there to help you navigate it early on makes it feel like lightwork now. Plus it’s so easy to ignore your haters when your bank account’s as stacked as it is.

For the first time in your life it’s optional to check pricetags, you can literally have whatever you want. Some things you don’t even have to pay for, they’re just dropped in your lap simply because you are who you are. 

That’s precisely how you scored yourself a weekend at this million dollar home in the Hollywood Hills. You’d passively mentioned during a custom video for one of your fans how hot you found it that he owned so much property.

“I’ve never played with my pussy in a mansion before” you pouted cutely, a vibrator whirling away inside you on its lowest setting. It wasn’t hint dropping as much as you wanted to stroke his ego but he took it as a chance to impress you, offering you a getaway at one of his places while he went on vacation for business. 

You’d be doing him a favor, he insisted, because he hated to leave the place empty for so long. The ego boost was more than enough compensation on his part that he didn’t feel like you owed him anything. Good because as a rule you do not fuck customers. You don’t even do content with other people in your industry. Everything’s solo. Always.

“Show us the top but off” you giggle, reading through the comments on your Instagram live. You do a quick spin, showing off your barely there bikini top. “There it is but it’s not coming off. You guys are gonna get me banned.” 

You only arrived a few hours ago and, exhausted from travel, decided that you’d rather spend the night in the jacuzzi out back than venture out to some crowded bar. This weekend is about relaxation after all and what’s more relaxing than sipping champagne in this warm bubbling water under the starry night sky?

It began to feel a little lonely though, you’re so used to having your best friend with you on these trips, so you decided to prop your phone up on the edge of the hottub and go live for a little bit. 

Reading through the comments, you get caught up in conversation about a million random topics. There’s suggestions for the best restaurants in LA, debates over if aliens are real or not, and even a quick KPop Smash or Pass game before someone brings you to a topic that has your heart thumping harder than an EDM festival.

Your rule on sleeping with other creators is a hard “No”, this everyone already knows, but when it comes to one man in particular that rule’s nonexistent. 

100_karat_xo Gyu saw your retweet 👀 youngxkwonskitty He’s coming over here aaaaaah!!!

You nearly choke on your next sip of champagne, watching the chat go wild as the memory of a recent drunken retweet hits you like a wrecking ball.

Your introduction to who Kim Mingyu was had been innocent enough. You were scrolling your feed one night and saw a video of a bunch of guys dancing. They were just fucking around really but they were genuinely talented and hot as hell so you had to do a little independent research to figure out who they were. 

Mingyu was the one who caught your eye the most with his beautifully tanned skin and a face so gorgeous it hurts to look at. It only worsened the situation when you stumbled upon his spicy account and found out he had the deadly combo of a body Greek gods would envy and a cock that’d have you walking funny for days. Who needs to walk straight anyway? You followed him on everything immediately, nearly died when he followed you back, and it’s been non stop flirting since. 

The two of you even ran into each other at a few parties where things would almost get hot and heavy but never ventured beyond a cute little makeout session. It’s painfully obvious both of you want something more though.

The most recent evidence came when Mingyu posted a video of himself seated in a chair facing a mirror wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. No shirt, nothing under the pants, just that muscular sunkissed chest and a mouthwatering dick print. 

You were weak in the knees from the sight of that alone but when his hand started moving in his lap, his palm smoothing over the long, thick print, you went feral. Mingyu’s caption asked, “Who does this belong to?” and the shots of Soju in your system that night had you responding, “Me!” before you could think better of it. That was a week ago and you must’ve pushed it to the back of your mind because you haven’t thought about it since. But Mingyu has. 

“Coming over here? What do you mean?” you ask, slinking down into the water as if it’ll somehow make you invisible. You get your answer immediately when a familiar name appears in the chat. 

dongangu.daddy Hey beautiful

“Mingyu! Stop! What are you doing here?” you squeal, a hand thrown over your mouth to hide the uncontrollable smile his arrival brings to your face. As if there’s a way to conceal how giddy you are over this man. Two words from him and your whole aura changes. You were glowing before but now you’re radioactive.

jeonghanssimp95 my worlds collide omfg _horanghaeheaux_ Can you both marry me?

dongangu.daddy has requested to join

Your eyes widen at Mingyu’s request, not expecting to be put on the spot like this. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You’d look at that face every day if you could—beside you, on top of you, under you—but you’re mortified of swooning over him in front of this many people. 

Finally deciding that your retweet did all it could do to expose you for being down bad for Mingyu, you dry your hands on a nearby towel and accept his request. Another screen pops up below yours. There’s some darkness at first, a few seconds of shuffling, and then Mingyu’s displayed in all of his bare chested glory. 

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he teases, shifting to a more comfortable position in bed. Of course he had to be shirtless. Of course he had to be in bed. Fuck your sanity. 

Your brain has to shake off a five second delay before you can answer. “You just got on and already you’re picking on me. I’m about to revoke your privileges, sir.”

Mingyu laughs off your comment, confident that you’re bluffing. You are. “No, don’t do that. I’m sorry” he pouts, raking his fingers through his short dark hair, “I just expected you to be happier to see me.”

“I am happy to see you but you can’t come on my live talking your shit.”

“I thought you liked it when I talk my shit” he smiles, recalling all of the X rated texts you’ve exchanged over the past few months. 

You shrug, mindlessly twirling your hair, “Talking is cute buuut actions are better.” 

The true meaning of “action” is clear for you both. Mingyu’s wanted action with you from day one, spam liking your posts the moment he saw that you followed him. You had the prettiest face, the sweetest smile, and your body was so soft and plush he couldn’t stop fantasizing about getting his hands on you. You were even more irresistible in person and that knowledge has had him on a mission to make you his ever since. A mission he’s not willing to give up on easily.

“Action? I can do that. I heard you’re in LA” he says, the white sheet around him falling away as he sits up in bed, “I am too. If you aren’t busy, maybe we could see each other tonight.”

“Oh, y-you wanna see me? And do what?” you stutter, going in for another nervous sip only to find that the glass is empty. You were not prepared to be this thirsty for a drink or for him. 

Mingyu tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking down to take in what he can of your figure peeking out from the water. His heart begins to race, his cock stiffening at the way your lush breasts bob above the surface, droplets of water decorating your cleavage like diamonds. 

“You tell me, babe. What do you wanna do?” 

His question soaks your bikini bottoms with a new type of moisture, your pulse already racing. What do you wanna do? With Kim Mingyu? What don’t you wanna do? 

“Gyu, aaah, fuck. It’s so…so…mmm” you whine, sinking lower onto Mingyu’s cock.

Your fingers trace his abs, your pink and blue ombre acrylics nicking his skin as your pussy relaxes to take the next inch of his cock. You’d seen it in pictures, even felt his bulge once or twice in person, but having him inside of you? Nothing could’ve prepared you for this stretch or for how full you’d feel after only a few inches. There’s still a couple more to go and you’re already shaking like you’re ready to cum. 

“Keep going, baby. You’re taking it so well” he praises, hands cradling your hips to help you take him at your own pace.

He isn’t in a rush to fuck you. That was never an intention of his. Mingyu’s more than pleased to lay here with you in bed, your fluffy thighs snug around his waist, and enjoy the view from below. And what a view it is. The faces you make are too cute for words. They make him want to hold you close and protect you from the rest of the world. At the same time, they’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. And, coupled with those little whines of yours, they give him the ravenous urge to fuck your brains out. Every last cell. 

“Don’t wanna wait anymore” you moan, leaning back with your arms behind you, palms resting on his legs. “I need it all.” 

He smooths his hands down your thighs and back up again, “Anything for you.” 

One thrust of his hips and you’re seeing stars. Mouth wide open. Eyes watering. It’s the fullest you’ve ever felt and you can only piece together a string of broken moans as your body adjusts to the new sensation. 

Mingyu smiles up at you, beaming with pride at what he’s done to you. “Too much for you?” he teases, his thumb stroking a solitary tear away from your cheek. 

You shake your head, never the kind of girl to reject a challenge. Breathing in deep, you steady yourself, raising your hips and slowly lowering them back down in a motion that has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“Oh god, fuck” he groans not just at how perfectly your walls hug him and not just at you being wet enough to make that hottub outside look like the desert. Every move you make hits the perfect spot, your body titled at the exact angle required to make him feel like you’re stealing his soul straight from his body.

Keeping your pace, you lean forward and lick your way up his abs, sprinkling kisses across his chest. Mingyu can pretend that it doesn’t tickle in a way he likes much more than he thought he would but his body’s a dead giveaway. His muscles contract beneath your kisses, his length pulsing against your walls. You can almost hear his heart pounding through his chest. 

“Too much for you?” you taunt, smiling up at him, your walls purposefully clenching even tighter around his cock. 

Mingyu bites his lip, staring down at you like a meal he’s prepared to devour. The fire in his eyes makes your heart jump. Teasing him back has consequences and you can tell you’re about to suffer them. 

“Nah, I want more” he growls and two strong arms close around your body, one at your back and the other at your waist. Keeping you flush against his chest, he spreads his legs and buries himself even deeper into your needy core. If you thought you were seeing stars before, there's galaxies now. 

Mingyu holds you like he loves you, cradling you gently while he fucks you like he hates you, and with your arms pinned to your sides all you can do is take it. Waves of heat wash over your figure, the tingling of your nipples brushing his chest sending sparks through your system. There’s no talking back now, only fragments of his name rolling from your tongue. 

“M-min…” you whine, crumbling as the thick head of his cock bumps your sweet spot. You can feel his warm precum leaking into you, mixing with your arousal to make every movement all the smoother. 

“M-min” he coos, reaching a hand up to brush away the hair sticking to your pretty face, “Having a hard time talking back, sweetheart?”

Your eyes are hypnotizing on a regular day but he must admit that there’s something special about seeing them so dazed and glossed over all for him. He grabs the back of your neck with just the right amount of pressure, lifting you away from him enough that he shifts angles inside of you. It’s such a small change in position but it’s more than enough to have you squirming, mindlessly rocking your hips against his. 

“I didn’t know I had such a greedy girl on my hands” he says, tracing your jaw with feathery kisses. In a split second the room’s spinning on its head and you find yourself face down on the sheets with your arms held behind your back.

Mingyu slaps your ass and the sting gets you up on shaky knees. He doesn’t even need to tell you what he wants because you want it too. Teasing his cock at your entrance, he takes his time savoring the way that your juices drip all over him, your pussy already clenching in anticipation.

He runs the head along your slit, dipping it up to roll across that perky little clit of yours. He keeps you like this so long you’re drooling onto the pillow, clenching and dripping down his length and he isn’t even inside of you yet. 

Not one to be outdone, you drop your hips down, slipping him right up to your entrance. You sink back on him an inch or so, popping his head right inside of you. You hear a sharp inhale and feel his body give out on him for a second. You move your hips in a circular motion, teasing him with the sight of you stretching yourself open with his cock.

“I thought you said you wanted more” you giggle, shaking your ass in the cutest way. 

Mingyu slaps it again, gripping your hips, “So she can still speak. We gotta change that.”

He slams into you and you cry out at the force of his thrust. The aftershock has your body humming but there’s no time to soak it in. Mingyu doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up even a little bit. He’s feral for you. Already addicted to the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

Keeping your wrists pinned, he reaches around to massage your clit, and your knees almost give out. He catches you before you can collapse, keeping you right where he wants you. Gripping the pillow, you bite down hard, screaming as loud as you want into the soft cotton while he deep strokes you to the brink of insanity. 

It’s not long before a familiar feeling’s tugging at your stomach. You’re like a bottle of champagne, all shaken up and ready to pop. Mingyu rubs your bud faster, kissing the small of your back, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Hmm?”

Your body answers before your words can, jiggling in all the right places while you cum harder than you ever have. The clench and release of your walls as you gush down your own thighs drags him closer to his own high but he’s not ready yet. He has to keep thrusting into you, playing with your pussy until your body’s spent. 

For a moment it seems as if he’s achieved his goal. Reeling from your high, your whole body gives into the mattress and you’re stuck there, letting out the sweetest whines with his cock still inside of you. But that moment’s fleeting and in a few seconds you’re back up on your knees, whipping around to take his cock into your mouth. 

You don’t hesitate to take all of it into your mouth, not gagging once as you rub it against the back of your throat. If the gasps and moans coming from overhead are any indication, your tongue wrapped around his cock has him wrapped around your finger. You feel around blindly until you find his hands, intertwining your fingers with his. Your tongue traces the veins of his shaft, feeling the blood rush to the head throbbing at the back of your throat. 

The taste of your mixed arousal floods your senses as it drips from the corners of your perfectly pursed lips. You sneak a peek up at him. That gorgeous face. Those muscles dripping with sweat. His body jerks and you easily pick up on the signs, slipping him out of your mouth at the perfect time for him to cum all over your tongue and those plush, puffy lips. You take him into your hands, stroking him until you’ve gotten every last drop. Licking your lips clean, you kiss the tip and lay back in bed, bringing him down with you.

Mingyu cozies his head up to your belly, his chest heaving for air, “Where’d you learn to do it like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just gifted” you sigh, brushing your fingers through his hair. 

“Well, whatever you did, just know it’s yours now” he says, propping his chin up to gaze at you. 

“Mine? What’s mine?”

“I asked who this belonged to.  You said it’s yours. Unless you don’t want it…”

“No! No! No!” you scramble, your cheeks warming up again, “It’s mine! It’s mine! I’ll take it.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, using his last bit of energy to crawl on top of you, “You’ll take it again? So soon?”

He spreads your legs, dipping his fingers between your legs and you’re still dripping wet. He presses up against you and you giggle feeling how hard he still is.

“You did say it’s mine” you smile, legs wrapping around his waist, “So give it to me.”