#Testing React Hooks

[bkthemes]

REACT: Tips and Tricks

[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] Introduction React has…

[tojigasm]

Thinking very hard about Logan talking you through it

He knows you're close ultimately before you do. Seasoned by his many years of life, your tells are specific but not impossible to discern.

It's different each time he's come to realize. A different scent to you based on the mood you're in, how quickly he brings you there, your vulnerability, and how he speaks to you.

Logan's a greedy man. He knows that. And he knew as soon as the first time it'd happened that he shamelessly selfish in getting what he wanted.

You smell like cinnamon and vanilla and fuck if it wasn't better than all the drugs he'd ever tried combined.

A part of him still thinks he might be chasing your high.

He learned quickly how to manipulate you to get different responses. Testing out what you react to and which scent meant what.

When it's a euphoric intimacy, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla isn't so strong. It's diluted some, like a soft cloudy mist.

More emotionally frustrated intimacy smells far more tart, almost coppery. It often reminds him of blood in his mouth, soaking into his lungs and taste buds like tar.

When you're in a far more glum mood, you smell like rain on cement. He's starved for it.

You're so pretty beneath him. Eyes lidded and swollen lips parted loosely as he scissors his middle and forefinger against your velvet walls.

Logan bumps his palm against your clit and you let you a gasp – your hand jumping from the bedsheets to grip his forearm.

"Right there, huh?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you give him a nod at that, tucking your chin to your chest as he moves his other hand to press one of your thighs upwards to where your knee almost hits your breast.

He slips his hand from your cunt, moving to pull your other hand to hold your own thighs to your chest.

Wordlessly, he kneels and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed before hooking his arms around your waist.

Without warning, he runs the flat of his tongue up the length of your cunt to your clit with a deep hum.

You know he can feel you shiver beneath him by the way he smiles against the sopping folds of your cunt.

"Feel good?" He chuckles softly, looking up at you from between your thighs.

You're reduced to broken whines and choked gasps, but you manage a hum in response, readjusting your grip on the backs of your thighs as Logan slips his tongue past your folds.

You smell of faint cinnamon.

"Lo," you sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes with a chipped whine.

Logan hums into your cunt, the sharp of his nose rocking back and forth against your clit.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist, reaching upwards to weave your hands together with a soft squeeze.

"Haa... ahh." Your voice grows watery as Logan brings you closer to the edge.

"M'close, Lo," you breathe, readjusting your hand on your thigh to keep it close to your chest.

"I know, sweetie." He circles his tongue around your bundle of nerves before blowing a stream of air onto your clit, "m'gonna get you there."

When he sucks on your clit again, you're cumming almost immediately with a shiver that simmers itself down your spine to your toes.

"There we go. It's a big one, huh."

A wave of vanilla woven with cinnamon washes over him and he nearly cums in his jeans.

You hear Logan before you've noticed he's moved from between your legs to stand above you, thumb circling your clit softly.

Whining, you turn your head into his forearm beside you.

"Doin' so good, sweetie," He coos, stroking his hand, still held by your own, down the side of your face before placing a kiss on your temple.

Your smell is much more prominent there, as though it travels through the roots of your hair and tickles itself through your soft skin.

Another shiver runs down your spine, causing the air on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand.

"Need you." You sob, voice muffled by the skin of his arm.

He settles down beside you on the bed, chin propped up on the flat of his right palm, squeezing your hand with his.

"You're okay."

The vanilla sinners throughout the room, and he swears he can see it in the dust that floats past the Amber hues of his room.

[rinneroraito]

L x Reader: Reader is wearing a shirt with a boob window, suggestive, he's touchy, 600+ words

-------

Ever since you came in the headquarters L couldn't take his eyes off of you. Not when you're wearing that shirt with a boob window, the clear line of your cleavage completely visible. And as if that wasn't enough, he could also see that you weren't wearing a bra underneath that shirt.

You went about your duties, L mentally sighing in relief that no one else had come into the office that night to ogle at you. He's delighted, though. It's indulgent, the way your breasts bounced when you walked, how the material of your clothing hugged your curves. He was more motivated to finish his work just so he could call you over to him. But you beat him to it, and you sit beside him on the couch (he sits there most of the time now because he likes it when you sit next to him). He momentarily stops typing on his laptop, bringing his wide and curious eyes up to your direction.

"Everything alright on your end, L?"

You lean towards his direction and his gaze immediately travels down to that oh, so enticing cat-head shaped window.

"Mostly done. Y/N, is the wardrobe idea a deliberate choice to distract me?"

A devious smile creeps up your face and you straighten yourself up, heaving your chest out towards him. L's eyes are glued to them, to you, and it's palpable how much he just wants to reach out and touch.

"Nothing escapes you, does it?" You let out a chuckle as you scoot yourself closer to him. "Yea, I wanted to see how you'd react. And I like it when you make eyes at me."

L closes the laptop and brings a thumb up to his teeth, chewing thoughtfully at his nail as he stares.

"You've accomplished that, well done. May I?" He finally asks.

"Yeah, go ahead."

He reaches out, long slender fingers extending towards you until they meet your skin. Your breath hitches a little when he starts to trace the outline of the opening. His touch was featherlike, barely there, teasing.

"It's nice," L muses, adjusting his position on the couch so he's now facing you. He hooks a finger down the end of the window on your shirt, testing the material before pulling it down.

"It's stretchy but not to the point where it would reveal more when yanked on."

"Good observation," you reply, delighted by his interest in such a simple thing as an opening on your shirt.

"But, it's enough for easy access," he shoves his hand inside the window, cupping your breast in his hand. "So soft..."

"You like that?"

"I like you," he replies, looking up at you with those big eyes that seemed to know everything yet still had so much to discover. The words bring heat up to your cheeks, a reaction he's always pleased to see.

"Do you want to do it here..?" You ask, wondering if he could feel your heart race through your chest that he had started to squeeze gently.

"That's a very enticing idea," L says as he flicks his thumb over your hardened nipple, eliciting a gasp from you. There's a cocky quality to the way he hummed at your reaction, and he continues his thought.

"Maybe a quick one, I still have some data to sort."

With his free hand, he pulls you closer, diving into the window on your shirt where he still had his hand. He presses his lips over your exposed skin, and you swear you heard him chuckle when you exhale raggedly.

"And then we can do more after I'm done."

[delusional-day-dreamer]

New Year's Kiss - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader

‣ wc: 3567

‣‣ synopsis: you were known as one of the calmest, most well-tempered players on the ucon wbb roster. so what happens if you lose your cool for the first time in a game? takes place at the uconn vs notre dame game on dec 31, 2022: based off this post/req from my nonnie 🫶, and lowk inspired by paige's bloody nose at the uconn vs seton hall game!

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys.... i'm so sorry for being so inactive but the writer's block hit me HARD. I have a few more drafts in progress I hope to release this week, thank y'all SO MUCH for the support and patience! Also, for the opponent in this game i refer to her solely as the, "marquette girl", as i don't know their players that well and don't want to use an irl girl!

Up until the second half of the game, everything had been going decent for you. Sure, this game was one of the most aggressive of the season, but you were right in the peak of your season, so it made sense that emotions were running high with the pressure to do well.

But that didn't excuse the fact that the Marquette girl that had been assigned to defend you had been playing dirty the entire night. After the fucking hellish week you had just gotten through, this girl was about to be the straw that broke the camel's. your, back.

After Paige's acl tear in August and the work and energy you had been endlessly pouring into your game from the past two and a half years till now, you had basically solidified your place as one of the main starters on the team, which meant you were receiving a lot more consistent playing time. The thought of being a more prominent player on the team didn't panic you the way it might others, as you you were known for always being a very level-headed, reliable player under pressure, as you had been dubbed by the media as the "Silent Assassin". But tonight was proving to test your limits to the max.

Any time you were on the court for the first two quarters, the Marquette girl had been glued to you, illegally all up in your space, pushing and shoving at you, taunting you over and over again, and even tripping you once when you lunged for the ball. All of which she had done without receiving a single foul, which not only pissed you off, but also your teammates on the court, the players on your bench, and your coach.

And of course, the one time you had defended yourself against her in the second quarter was the only time the ref called a foul on both of you. She had nearly pressed herself up against you the second your hands came in contact with the ball, leaving you with no choice but to pass to your teammate Aaliyah to sink a layup, when she hooked her arm through yours and pulled just as the ball left your hands.

Her unnecessary aggression caused something to snap inside of you, as the second you felt her yank on your arm, you turned around to push her off of you, hard. She stumbled backwards a little bit, not tripping or hitting the ground in any way, but the damage had been done in the, very biased, eyes of the refs.

The two of you rapidly reacted, approaching each other as you were yelling out meaningless threats and a long string of curses. Thankfully, your teammates holding the two of you back firmly, preventing any further physical altercations.

The two of you both received technical fouls for the unnecessary physical contact and unsportsmanlike behaviour. However, the foul you received only irked you more. Why were the only fouls called on her when it involved you pushing back? Could they not see the way she was treating you the entire game?

And of course, Geno wasn't thrilled about one of his starters getting a tech in the first half of the game. While benched, he had chewed you out for losing your temper at her, especially for cursing, which was something refs never let slide. But his reprimands didn't hold the usual level of anger or frustration, as he internally agreed that the Marquette girl had it coming for her, but, he had to remain professional.

Of course basketball was a physical sport, and with aggression came some conflicts with other players, but her behaviour tonight was unprovoked and incredibly aggravating to you. Which only worsened in the third quarter.

After your tech, you had been trying your best to ignore the incredibly annoying actions of the Marquette girl, but you simply couldn't anymore after she had purposely elbowed you in the nose to make her shot.

You immediately stumbled backwards, folding over at the waist as your hands came up in an attempt to alleviate the intense throbbing your nose felt. You could feel the blood begin to dribble down to your lip as you walked over to the bench with Lou escorting you, awaiting the ref's call.

The refs decided to not call a foul on the other girl, claiming that she hadn't reached backwards on purpose, it was simply the angle of her basket and granted UConn two free throws. The call enraged you, and something inside you snapped. You very quickly forgot about the tissue you were firmly holding at your nostrils as you approached him, insisting with him that the call was blind and blatantly biased.

You hadn't noticed the blood resumed to flow down your face while arguing until it hit your mouth, but you paid no mind to the taste of iron that filled your mouth as you persisted angrily speaking to the ref.

"Paige, go get her before she gets another tech," Geno whispered into Paige's ears over by the bench.

She nodded at him, making her way over to you to pull you away from the ref who was now threatening to eject you from the game.

"Okay enough, you need to get checked out by the team medic," Paige wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you away from your heated conversation, despite your struggle against her. She wasn't that much taller than you, but the extra two ish inches she had on you were proving useful right now.

She dragged you over to the bench, ignoring your many protests. She pried the used, bloody tissue out of your fingers to toss to the medic waste bag, grabbing new ones from her hand to help your bloody nose. It was apparent to everyone on your team, even the fans watching, that your stubbornness wouldn't allow you to accept the call that easily and allow the medic to clean you up. So, Paige would just have to do it herself.

Since your first day on the Uconn campus, you and Paige had become extremely close. With the two of you being assigned roommates your freshman year, the COVID year, it would've been impossible to not become best friends, considering the fact that you spent all of your time together.

If not at practice or hanging out with the team, the two of you were trapped inside your dorm, forced to find company within each other for the entire year. And with Paige's injury her sophomore year, you were one of the only people she was able to open up to, other than Azzi, and you had become her comfort during her rehab time, both then and now. Despite no longer being roommates, you two still always hung out at each other's respective dorm, even having frequent sleepovers.

Your incredibly close relationship wasn't left unnoticed by the media either, especially social media platforms like tiktok. When Paige and Azzi denied the relationship allegations at the same time you made it clear that you liked girls, the internet quickly refocused their attention onto you and Paige, and neither of you had the heart to deny any rumors circulating. Considering that after Azzi, you were the least active on your social media when it came to anything other than basketball, it wasn't too hard to ignore the internet's speculation.

All of which to say, Paige had made it incredibly easy for you to catch feelings for her. Until her, you had never known what it was like to be completely head over heels for someone. The way your heart skipped any time the two of you made eye contact, the way your cheeks flushed when she brushed against you, and the chemistry the two of you shared on and off the court was undeniable.

Unbeknownst to you, she felt the exact same way, and for the last two years, everyone but you two could see the feelings you harbored for each other.

If only you could feel the way her heart was beating as she held your face in one hand, using the other to apply pressure to your nose and wipe away at the blood on your face, neck, and jersey as she listened to you rant about the refs and how they were cheating you guys out of fouls the entire game. Although, she wasn't able to focus on the words coming out of your mouth, only the plumpness of your lips as they moved, something you noticed as your verbal attack slowed down so you could take a breath in between your sentences.

"She's literally fucking stuck up my ass and the refs ignore her which is actual bullshit, the amount of times this girl has literally made unnecessary contact or-, Paige are you even listening to me?"

Her lingering gaze on your mouth quickly snapped up to your eyes, a sheepish smile settling onto her now flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah sorry."

She wiped the remaining blood from around your nose before calling over the medic to check your nose. A small bruise had formed near the bridge, but thankfully it wasn't broken. While she was checking your nose, Paige did her best to avoid meeting your curious stares.

Of course the two of you had small moments where you could envision that Paige felt the same for you. But never one that was so blatantly obvious as her staring at your lips, especially so publicly.

Nonetheless, you barely had time to analyze the interaction before the medic was clearing you to return to the game, Paige patting your butt (this) as you jogged by her to sub back into the game, which, until the handshake line, went without any further incidents, despite your team beating them by 13 points (HVL VS TEXAS Y'ALL).

When passing by you, you heard her mutter under her breath, "fucking bitch," in response to your half-hearted, "good game". It was safe to say you didn't take that well, responding to her with, "you wanna come say that to my fucking face? Pussy ass bitch." For both of your sakes, Dorka and one of her teammates were able to keep pushing the two of you down the line and out to the lockers before the post-game conference with Lou, Nika, and Dorka, which Geno insisted you attend to apologize for your behaviour.

***Small Time Skip***

"So Y/N, the multiple incidents that occured tonight with you and (BLANK) from Georgetown, do you have anything to say about them? I mean, you're known for being a very calm and collected player, but tonight we saw a very different side of you," a reporter questioned you. The questions for you from tonight's post-game conference mostly avoided the fight, treading the waters carefully as it was unlike anything you had ever been involved in.

"I'm not gonna try and cover for myself or anything, it was unprofessional and unacceptable for me to lose my temper on the court like that. Like you said, I've always tried to place an emphasis on just basketball when playing and avoid any other personal feelings or problems, but I guess tonight I didn't do as good of a job on that as I could of. This is something that I will keep in mind for all of our upcoming games as that's not the kind of image or reputation I want to set for myself or the team I represent. I would never want this kind of behaviour to be defining moments from our games because my teammates really put their all into every single one of their games, especially tonight's, and I don't want to create any personal animosity with the girls on the Marquette team, as I have a lot of respect for them."

Your diplomatic and cordial answer had appeased majority of the reporters, along with Geno and the team publicist in the back corner of the room. Except for one nosy reporter who seemed unhappy with your tactful response and was practically feining for drama.

“This one is for y/n, but with the events of today, you mentioned that you try to keep all personal feelings off the court. Is that an implication of some external underlying tension or problems between you and number (BLANK), as the two of you got quite physical today?”

What the fuck? Now they really were trying to start something between the two of you that never existed in the first place.

“No not at all. I have no connection with number (BLANK) off the court and don’t even personally know her. As I mentioned before, I have nothing but respect for the girls at Marquette and there are no hard feelings on my end. You know, basketball is a physical contact game and that just means that there a few rough moments here and there, it’s just part of the game.”

If they ask any more stupid questions about you and the Marquette girl you were actually gonna lose your mind. Especially if they somehow tie in the fact that you like girls with the fight.

Which, thankfully, they ended up dropping the fight for the rest of the interview, and you and the others were finally allowed to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve the way they had originally planned to.

The whole team, and Kayla of course, was prepared to celebrate at your favorite local bar, Ted's. All of the girls who were taken were bringing their partners along and those of you who were single were all ready to hunt someone down for a drunken kiss at midnight. Except you.

You were far too down bad for Paige to even fathom kissing someone else at the moment, especially not while going out with her and the rest of the team, who all knew about your ginormous crush on Paige.

Nonetheless, you still did your best to get ready quickly, wearing your baggiest pair of low-rise cargo pants and a very cropped white halter tank top in an attempt to cheer yourself up from the fact you wouldn't have a New Year's kiss this year, again.

But by the time you were throwing back shots at the bar like they were water, you couldn't find it in you to care about how single you were. It was common knowledge that you weren't the best at holding your liquor, as the team often made fun of your ability to get drunk off of two to three shots, which is exactly the position you found yourself in.

Until, of course, "guardian angel Paige" decided she needed to intervene in your drinkfest, walking up to your barstool and effectively cutting you off by having the bartender replace your drink with a regular shirley temple just before midnight so that she, or any of your other friends, wouldn't have to deal with you throwing up at four in the morning.

"You gotta go easy on the shots y/n/n, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning if you keep drowning your liver in alcohol."

"Funny, coming from Storrs's resident party girl, Miss Madison," you teased. There were only about twenty minutes left until bar's tv would depict the ball dropping in New York, and the disparity of your situation had begun to sink in.

Not only would you be suffering through another New Year's with no midnight kiss, but you had no relationships since last year or even a single talking stage, no potential relationship prospects for the future, and worst of all, no Paige.

"Yeah well, at least I can hold my drinks. You, on the other hand, are the most lightweight out of all of us. Besides, what happened to your little New Years tradition, the whole eating the grapes thing to find the love of your life or whatever?"

You went off on a little drunken tangent at this, complaining that it was completely ineffective, but also, the fact that it made you look stupid in front of the entire team when absolutely nothing came out of it.

"I mean it's so dumb. I don't get why my love life is so barren, like actually non-existent, it's not like I'm super unattractive or anything like that. Right? But like, I don't even have a midnight kiss this year, again," you grumbled to Paige, unaware of the way she was staring at your lips for the second time today, mesmerized by their movements.

"You are most definitely not unattractive. You're like one of the most attractive people I know. Besides, it's not like I'm kissing anyone this year," Paige reassured you, and somehow, your drunk brain simply did not process the way she had flusteredly complimented you.

"Yeah but you're Paige Bueckers," you emphasized, "you could kiss anyone in this bar if you wanted. Men and women, single and taken, would literally form a line two blocks down if you even mentioned wanting to kiss someone," you gazed up at Paige from your leaned position against the bartop, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes.

"Anyone in the bar? Like, anyone at all?" She asked you curiously, a small smirk graced her features as she peered down at you.

"Yeah probably, but there's only like two minutes left or something, so you should pick someone soon."

"Oh I already have someone picked out, I just don't know if they would kiss me back."

"Oh?" You felt your stomach drop at her statement, and you couldn't stop the jealousy from coursing through your veins if your life had depended on it. But Paige's unwavering gaze never left your face, and you could feel your cheeks flush at the way she was intently looking at you.

"Quite the staring problem tonight P?"

"Well it's pretty hard to not stare at the prettiest girl in the room," she flirted, scooting closer to you, effectively closing some of the distance between you two.

"I-, what?" You stuttered, taken back by Paige's actions.

"How many hints does I have to drop before you finally start picking up on them? I want to kiss you y/n, I want you."

The ten-second countdown had begun as Paige confessed to you, and you were left gawking at Paige's face, your heart threatening to give out from how fast it was beating.

"FIVE, FOUR,"

You yanked on Paige's belt loop, pulling her flush against your body as your eyes focused in on her lips.

"THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!""

Your right hand reached up to grab Paige's jaw at the end of the countdown, pulling her lips firmly down onto yours. The bar's loud chants barely registered to you as you lost yourself in the intoxication of Paige's lips. Your tongue glided across her lip as your mouths moved in unison, causing her to groan into you. You took it as an invitation to slip your tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening with unrestrained passion.

Your built-up need for each other was apparent as you made out, sending shivers down your spine at the pressure of her mouth against yours. It felt as if she was the oxygen you needed to breathe, and now that you had her, there was no way you could let her go now.

***The next morning: New Year's Day***

Your eyes fluttered open with a pounding headache, yet, the utterly familiar weight of a certain pairs of hands around your waist provided a sense of comfort you knew only she could provide.

Paige's soft snores rung out throughout the room, and as you gently reached forward to her nightstand to grab your phone off charging, you realize it was still extremely early in the morning, not even eight a.m.

And yet, your phone was blowing up with notifications from all social media platforms, even your text messages had over a hundred notifications.

Confused, you click on the apps to check what all the fuss was about, quickly realizing what had happened.

The entire interaction between you and Paige at the game was recorded by the cameramen and had instantaneously made it's way all over the internet, only fueling the dating rumors about the two of you.

The comments and posts were going feral at the way Paige was the only one who could calm you down, the way she wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back, her holding your face ever so delicately, her smacking your butt as you ran back onto the court, and of course, her transparent staring at your lips the entire time you were an inch apart from her.

"What are you looking at baby," Paige sleepily mumbled into your neck, tightening her grip around your waist to pull you further into her, slinging her right leg over your waist.

You put your phone down and turned in her hold, wrapping your arms around her body as you peered down at Paige's sleepy face, admiring how beautiful she always looked.

"Your fans are going crazy about how obviously down bad you are for me P," you teased, running your foot up and down her calf as Paige pressed her face into your chest to absorb your body heat.

"Let them, just go back to sleep with me for a little bit longer."

And of course, how could you ever say no when your girlfriend was asking you so sweetly?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, and i'm so sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, i just wanted to finally get another fic out 🤗

[arxiwon]

Punishment | yjw ⋆˚࿔

Pairing: Jungwon x Reader

Genre: Smut, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Possessive Jungwon, Dirty Talk, Light Choking, Manhandling

Jungwon had been ignoring you for a week.

No calls, no texts, no stolen touches. He wasn’t acting cold—just distant, like he was testing your patience. And you hated it. You knew he was busy, but this? This felt deliberate.

So you decided to get his attention.

It wasn’t hard—Jungwon was always watching, even when he pretended not to. You let another guy get close, let his hand rest on your lower back, let him lean in too much when he talked to you. And, of course, you made sure Jungwon saw every second of it.

It only took ten minutes before you felt that familiar, heated stare from across the room. And then, before you could even react, a firm grip wrapped around your wrist, yanking you away from the guy mid-laugh.

“What the hell—” you started, but Jungwon’s hold tightened, his steps never faltering as he dragged you out of the club.

You barely made it to the car before he shoved you against the door, his body caging you in. His chest pressed against yours, the heat radiating off him in waves. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might break.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge creeping in.

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “Getting attention since you weren’t giving me any.”

The second the words left your mouth, you felt it.

Jungwon’s hand shot out, pressing flat against your chest before shoving you back against the car door. Not hard enough to hurt—but hard enough to make you gasp. Hard enough to make your heart race.

“You think this is a fucking game?” He leaned in, his breath hot against your lips. “You think I don’t see you? Don’t want you?” His hand slid lower, pressing against your sternum before trailing down your stomach, his touch burning even through your dress.

You swallowed, refusing to back down. “If you wanted me, you wouldn’t have ignored me for a week.”

His lips curled into a smirk—but there was no amusement in his eyes. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

Before you could respond, he spun you around, pressing your chest flat against the car door. His hands gripped your waist, his front flush against your back. You could feel him—hard, hot, and ready.

“You wanted my attention so bad?” he breathed, his lips brushing against your ear. “Then take it.”

He kicked your legs apart, his knee nudging between them. You shivered as his fingers slid up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. His hands moved with purpose, rough and possessive as they grabbed at you, squeezing, teasing—never gentle.

“Jungwon—”

A sharp slap landed on your ass, making you yelp.

“Shut up.” His voice was sharp, dripping with authority. “You don’t get to talk after what you pulled tonight.”

You whimpered, pressing your palms against the car, your nails digging into the cool surface. His fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, yanking them down in one swift motion.

“Look at you,” he mused, his hand sliding between your legs, pressing against your soaked heat. “Already dripping for me.”

You let out a breathless moan as he teased you, rubbing slow circles against your clit, his touch infuriatingly light. Your hips bucked instinctively, but he pulled his hand away just as quickly.

“Pathetic.” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so his lips were right against your ear. “You let another man touch you, and yet you’re fucking desperate for me.”

“I—I wasn’t—”

Another slap—this time against your chest. Your breath hitched as his palm pressed against you, pushing you harder against the car. The dominance in his touch made your head spin.

“Not another word.”

Then, without warning, he unbuckled his belt, the sound sending a shiver through you.

Your heart pounded as he positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He didn’t give you time to adjust, didn’t ease in—he just thrust inside in one sharp movement, stretching you open with a brutal pace.

You cried out, your fingers curling against the car as he fucked into you, each thrust rough and punishing. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him with each movement, forcing you to take every inch.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” His voice was dark, teasing. “To be fucked like a slut?”

You could only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming.

Jungwon wasn’t satisfied. His hand slid up, wrapping around your throat as he pulled you back against him, his chest pressing against your back. “Say it,” he demanded.

“Y-Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form words.

He chuckled, his grip tightening slightly. “That’s right.” His pace quickened, his cock hitting deeper, harder. “You’re mine. You don’t fucking look at anyone else. You don’t let anyone touch you. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. “Yes—yes, only you.”

His hand moved lower, finding your clit again, rubbing harsh circles that had you unraveling in seconds. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body trembling as you came hard around him.

Jungwon groaned, his pace stuttering as he chased his own release. “Fuck,” he growled, burying himself deep inside you as he spilled into you, his grip never loosening.

For a moment, the only sound was heavy breathing, both of you spent. Then Jungwon leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your neck.

“Never pull that shit again,” he murmured, his voice rough but affectionate.

You let out a shaky breath, a smirk playing on your lips. “Then never ignore me again.”

He chuckled, his hands still gripping your waist. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “After tonight, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

[heeluvv]

CONSEQUENCES.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ nishimura riki x reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ teasing, orgasm denial, edging, etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ request, mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

you like to push riki’s buttons.

it’s a little game you play, one that never fails to make your stomach flutter with excitement. you test him, roll your eyes and pretend you don’t hear him when he tells you what to do. you know what you’re doing—you always do—and you know exactly how far to take it before he decides he’s had enough.

but the thing about riki?

he never loses control.

he doesn’t yell, doesn’t scold, doesn’t let his irritation show. he just watches, arms crossed, eyes filled with amusement and something darker, something that makes the air between you dangerous.

and when he finally does react?

he takes his time.

because if you want to play games, he’s going to make sure you lose.

“you’re so annoying.”

you huff, arms crossed over your chest, your glare sharp as you stare him down. riki is unbothered, lounging back against the headboard, legs spread wide, one hand resting lazily against his thigh.

his lips curl into that infuriating smirk, the one that always makes you want to wipe it off his face—or pull him in and kiss it away.

“am i?” he muses, tilting his head slightly, watching you like he already knows exactly what you’re doing.

“or are you just mad because you’re not getting what you want?”

your fingers dig into the sheets, frustration curling in your chest at how casual he sounds, like he knows he has you right where he wants you.

“maybe i wouldn’t be mad if you weren’t being so difficult,” you say, voice smooth, indifferent.

his brows lift slightly, but the smirk doesn’t waver. if anything, it grows.

“difficult?” he repeats, his tone dripping in mockery. “that’s funny coming from you.”

you move before you can think, shifting closer, fingers pressing against his chest in a half-hearted shove, but he doesn’t even budge. his muscles are solid beneath your touch, and the lack of reaction makes you more irritated.

riki doesn’t move. doesn’t say a word. just watches as you climb onto his lap, straddling him with a confidence you don’t entirely feel—but you’ll be damned if you let him know that.

his eyes flicker over your face, then lower, slow and deliberate.

then he laughs.

“that’s cute, baby,” he murmurs, hands coming up to rest against your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“you trying to act like you have any control here.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, determined not to let him see how your body reacts to his touch.

“maybe i do,” you challenge, shifting slightly in his lap, rolling your hips just enough to feel him tense beneath you.

you catch the way his fingers flex against your skin, how his breath hitches for a fraction of a second.

but riki recovers too quickly, and his smirk returns, sharper this time.

“oh?” he hums, tilting his head. “is that what you think?”

his hands tighten around your waist before you can respond, and suddenly, you’re being flipped onto your back, the world spinning for half a second before you find yourself pinned beneath him, his body pressing you into the mattress.

his lips are so close, his breath warm against your skin, and when you try to shift away, his hands press firmly against your hips, holding you still.

“oh, baby,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something low, thick, dangerous.

“you were never going to win.”

he moves with unbearable patience, lowering himself down between your legs, the warmth of his breath already making you tremble with anticipation. his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, dragging them down agonizingly slow, making sure you feel every inch of fabric as it peels away from your skin.

your panties go next, the cool air kissing your exposed heat, sending a sharp shiver through you. you’re already dripping, your body betraying just how badly you need him, but riki?

he only smirks.

he doesn’t dive in, doesn’t give you what you so desperately crave. instead, he starts teasing, his tongue flicking out in light, playful strokes against your swollen clit, barely enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to make your body jerk involuntarily.

“r-riki…”

your voice is soft, shaky, laced with a mix of frustration and longing, but he doesn’t budge.

instead, he glances up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a smug, knowing smirk, his lips still glistening from the soft licks he’s been giving you—never enough, never constant, always just out of reach.

“i told you,” he murmurs, voice low, taunting, his fingers pressing against your thighs to keep them spread wide.

he leans in again, the barest brush of his tongue over your clit before he pulls back, making your hips twitch in protest.

“you wouldn’t win.”

his fingers trail leisurely over your folds, barely touching, just enough to make you shiver, to make your body twitch in response. he feels it—the way you pulse, throb, ache for more, the way your walls clench around nothing, desperate for relief, for friction.

and it makes him laugh.

low and deep, the sound rumbles from his chest as he watches you writhe beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“so desperate,” he muses, his fingers finally pressing against your slick, aching entrance—but before he can push in, before you can even breathe in relief, he stops.

your stomach tightens, your frustration bubbling over as he repeats the motion, pressing in just enough to make you feel the stretch, only to pull away again, leaving you empty, needing.

“riki, please…”

your voice is breathless, pleading, your hands instinctively reaching down to grasp his wrist, trying to force him to give you what you want.

but riki only chuckles, shaking his head as he grips your wrists with his free hand, pinning them down beside you effortlessly.

“oh, baby,” he hums, smirk widening as he presses down again, still not pushing in. “you really think begging is gonna make me go easy on you?”

he finally gives in—just barely.

his fingers press into you, stretching you open so painfully slow that it makes your breath hitch, your thighs twitching in a desperate attempt to pull him in deeper, faster, more.

but riki doesn’t rush.

he slides his fingers in inch by inch, letting you feel every single movement, every ridge of his knuckles, every teasing drag against your walls. it’s excruciating, the way he drags it out, barely curling his fingers, keeping his pace so slow it feels more like torment than pleasure.

“please, riki…”

your voice is small, breathless, laced with frustration and need, but he only hums in response, his smirk hidden against your skin as he leans down.

his lips find your inner thigh, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses, each one lingering a second too long, sending shivers up your spine. his breath is warm, his tongue flicking out between kisses, teasing the sensitive skin, making you squirm.

but his pace never changes.

his fingers move at a torturous rhythm, barely thrusting, just pressing, curling, withdrawing, repeating—never enough, always just out of reach.

“so needy,” he murmurs against your thigh, his voice dripping with amusement, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothes the spot with another slow kiss.

he makes a show of it, peeling off his clothes with deliberate slowness, letting you see everything—the lean lines of his body, the muscles shifting under his skin, the way his cock stands red and aching, twitching with the need to be inside you.

and when he finally pushes in, the stretch is instant, overwhelming, your walls clenching tight around him, sucking him in so perfectly that it pulls a deep, guttural groan from his lips.

his head tilts back slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, but even as he adjusts, even as his body demands more, he keeps his thrusts slow, controlled, making you feel every inch of him as he drags in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

“please, riki—” your voice is shaky, wrecked, a quiet sob escaping as your body trembles beneath him, the weight of your own desperation crashing down on you. “i-i can’t anymore… please…”

his eyes darken at your pathetic little plea, his lips curling into a mocking smirk as he looks down at you, watching the way your body twitches, the way your legs shake from the slow, unbearable torture of his rhythm.

“aww, my baby can’t take it?” he coos, his tone dripping with condescending amusement, his fingers trailing up your sides, his nails barely grazing your heated skin. “but i thought you liked playing games?”

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm and teasing as he whispers, “wasn’t this what you wanted, baby? to push me? to see how far you could go?”

but then—finally, mercifully—he gives in.

his grip tightens, his smirk widening as he pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in, his hips snapping forward in a sudden, brutal thrust that knocks the breath out of you.

and then he does it again. and again.

harder. faster. deeper.

“fuck—” your hands claw at the sheets, your head tipping back as waves of pleasure crash through you, the ache that had been burning in your core finally being satisfied.

“is this what my baby wanted?” he taunts, his voice barely steady, strained with his own pleasure.

his pace is relentless now, his cock hitting deep, perfect, making you gasp and moan uncontrollably.

“tell me, baby—” his teeth graze your jaw, his breath uneven but his tone still so damn smug. “was this what you were begging for?”

you’re left utterly speechless, body wrecked and trembling beneath him as he continues his forceful, merciless thrusts, each snap of his hips perfectly calculated, hitting that sweet, devastating spot inside you with unwavering precision.

the teasing, the slow torture, the unbearable restraint he had forced on you—all of it had worked too well, leaving you on edge, too sensitive, too desperate. your walls clench aggressively around him, your body betraying you, gripping him like you never want him to leave.

“please, r-riki—don’t stop…”

your moan is loud, raw, your head tilting back against the sheets, the sensation of pleasure crashing over you, your climax sitting dangerously close, teetering on the very edge of release. you can feel it, taste it, the high building so intensely that your vision starts to blur—and then it’s ripped away.

your eyes snap open, a choked whimper leaving your lips as the sudden loss of him sends a sharp, empty ache through your core.

riki has pulled out completely, leaving you clenching around nothing, your body twitching from the shock of denied release.

above you, he groans—a deep, strained sound as his cock twitches violently, and before you can even process what’s happening, hot ropes of cum spill onto your stomach, painting your skin in messy streaks.

his chest rises and falls heavily, his breath uneven, labored, his gaze still locked onto yours as he tries to catch his breath.

his expression is unreadable—something between satisfaction and warning.

but you?

you look at him with wide, shocked eyes, the remnants of pleasure still coursing through your body, your orgasm still lingering just out of reach, cruelly stolen.

“should’ve thought about the consequences of your little games, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, still breathless.

his fingers trail over your stomach, smearing his release across your skin, his smirk returning as he watches the way your body twitches in frustration.

“but don’t worry,” he leans down, lips brushing against your ear, his tone laced with amusement and promise—

“i’m not done with you yet.”

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ hoped you enjoyed it !!!

[jiarkives]

can you babysit our child?

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you ask nanami if he can babysit your child while you go out.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — nanami kento (jujutsu kaisen)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff, ooc nanami (?), no pronouns used but kinda leaning towards fem

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i just had an idea and wrote it,,, no edit whatsoever 😶‍🌫️

~

Recently, Nanami’s students showed you an application called TikTok and you had been hooked to it, to say the least. Whenever you had free time, you would scroll on the app for hours on end.

And while scrolling one time, you came across a certain video of a couple and decided to test it out on Nanami to see how he would react.

“Hey, Ken?” You called out to your husband from the living room as you played with your toddler in her playpen. “Can you come here for a sec?”

“Yes, hon?” Nanami stepped into the living room from the kitchen where he had been cooking your lunch for the past hour or so, his apron still tied around his waist and the sleeves of his sweatshirt folded haphazardly up to his forearms.

“So I have an appointment with my nail tech tomorrow, right?” You reminded. “And Shoko and I decided to go out for a girl’s day.”

“The one you told me about over dinner three nights ago?” God help you, he even remembered when you told him. “Do you need something, hon? You know you can just take my card, right? You know where my wallet is.”

“No, no, but that is a tempting offer, admittedly, but no.” You grinned. “But I was just wondering, since I’d be gone the whole day tomorrow, maybe you can babysit our child?”

His eyebrows were immediately drawn together at your words and admittedly, a part of you thought he would turn you down and so you spoke quickly, “It’s alright if you can’t though. I can just reschedule my nail appointment and with Shoko.”

“No, it’s not that. You should go, hon, you deserve a break,” he told you in assurance, but his brows are still furrowed. “But why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Babysitting,” he said. “You asked me to babysit our child.”

“Well, yeah, because I’d be out tomorrow and someone needs to take care of our child, you know?” You said, feigning nonchalance.

“Honey, I want you to be honest with me. Have I been making you feel neglected lately?” He asked worriedly, stepping closer to you and even going as far as sitting beside you on the floor. “I know I’ve been working overtime the past few days. Have you been feeling lonely because of that?”

Now, it was your turn to be confused.

“No, why’d you ask?”

“You asked me to babysit our child,” he reiterated. “Hon, I am the father of our child. I will take care of them the way a father should, and not just babysit them like I’mm being paid to do so.”

You were about to speak, but he cut you off, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, but I’ll make it up to you two, alright? I promise.”

“Ken.” You giggled, throwing your arms around him. “It was a prank. I saw it on TikTok the other day.”

“Honey.” He sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You jutted your bottom lip out as you pulled away. “But I love you so much, oh my god.”

“I love you too.” A small smile grew on his face. “But don’t ever do that again.”

He stood and moved to go back to the kitchen, but paused to turn to you, “And you’re definitely taking my card now.”

Well, your child is definitely going to have a new sibling soon.

[lumiambrose]

✰ house rules

kinktober 24 - day five

featuring: dr ratio x f!reader

summary: veritas ratio, your university professor, is renowned for being the greatest lecturer at your university but also the cruellest, willing to fail any student who doesn't meet his high standard. so you can't help but try your luck for some "extra credit" when you run with said professor on a night out with your girlfriends.

tags: smut, professor x student dynamic, public/semi-public, fingering, oral (fem receiving) petnames (dear)

wc: 1k

the poker table hums with quiet tension, chips clinking and cards sliding across the velvet surface. you’re currently sitting next to dr. veritas ratio, out of all people. as for how you landed a seat next to your professor—the same professor that sneers at mediocre efforts and fails half his students—will forever be a mystery. tonight was supposed to be girls night, where you can relax and party your academic deadlines away. yet instead, you find your heart racing as you watch your professor calculate his odds and size up his opponents like it’s nothing.

albeit terrified, you attempt to catch his attention. “didn’t expect to see you here,” you say, leaning in ever so slightly towards him. the words hang between you, but your pulse is racing. “you don’t strike me as the casino type, professor.”

he doesn’t spare you a glance yet. instead, he places a bet, his fingers tapping the chips. “i could say the same,” he replies, finally turning his gaze on you. his eyes have that familiar coolness in them, but this time, there’s something else—amusement maybe? “though, considering your recent performance, you might need to rely on luck more than most.”

embarrassed, you let out a weak laugh, more to relieve your nerves than anything else. “maybe i’ve just been waiting for a proper chance to test my skills.”

he cocks a brow. “how bold. though i expect your aiming for more than a simple game.”

your heart skips a beat at how easily he sees through you. “maybe,” you start, “depends on how much you're willing to offer.”

before you can react to his words, you feel veritas' hand on your thigh. his grip firm, making your breath hitch. you bite your lip, doing your utmost best to concentrate on the game in play. your professor, unbothered by your reaction, continues to play his hand as his eyes never leave the table in front of him.

“something tells me you’re more interested in winning than you let on,” he whispers, voice laced with velvet, loud enough for your ears only to hear. each word stirring goosebumps on your fragile skin. his fingers dance their way up your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin. touch featherlight as you do your best to stifle a moan.

“now why would i ever back down from a challenge?” you retort, your voice shamelessly laced with need and desire. as the words left your mouth, you feel his thumb hook the edge of your lace panties, cutting you off abruptly and sending your mind into a whirlwind of thoughts. the game in front of you now hidden in the back of your mind.

the game continues with the sound of chips clinking, card shuffling and rare exclamations from other players, but they all went in one ear and out the other. your professor now completely overtaking your thoughts. shrinking your world down to the little space surrounding you and veritas. your only reality being the tantalising touch of his fingers against your clothed core.

“eyes on the game, dear. you’re so far in it would be a pity to lose your cool now,” he says as though it’s nothing. as though his actions aren’t getting bolder by the minute.

his hand, now tucked away beneath your skirt, teases your wet folds through the thin fabric of your panties. focusing on the cards in front of you now seemed impossible as your mind hazed with lust. the heat between your legs is now becoming unbearable. your hips now subtly grinding against his fingers.

a loud clang pierces the air, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you feel a cold presence on your lap. you look down to the sight of veritas' drink spilt over the edge of the table, soaking your clothes.

you gasp at the shock of icy liquid against you, seeping through your skirt and leaving a sticky mess on your thighs. veritas immediately stood up, abandoning the game in front of him, offering his hand out to you. “let’s clean you up. it’s a small spill, but we don’t want it to stain,” he says, and you swear you can see a small smirk play on his lips.

initially embarrassed, you nod and take his hand as he guides you through the casino floor. excitement slowly proceeds to replace your initial embarrassment as you draw closer to the bathrooms. all the background noise slowly fading away as the both of you enter the quiet bathroom, veritas locking the door behind you.

without warning, he pushes you against the wall and unzips your skirt, letting the fabric slide down your legs. your panties are coated with arousal, betraying the facade you did your best to keep up. veritas locks eyes with you, his eyes fueled with hunger as he kneels down in front of you.

“keep it quiet. you don’t want to get caught now, do you?” he warns before leaning in to devour you. his skilled tongue quickly finds its way to your clit, sucking and abusing it teasingly while his fingers work wonders inside of you. you arch your back, throwing your head back as the pleasure courses through you, your body begging for release.

with one hand tugging on veritas�� hair, aching for more, the other found its way to your mouth. attempting to cover up the sweet moans getting drawn out of you. although veritas doesn’t seem to take your moans seriously. he carries on teasing you, his tongue flicking your clit and his fingers pushing deeper inside you. your breathing grows ragged, and you know that you couldn't hold back the wave of ecstasy much longer.

but veritas, ever the harsh professor, pulled away, just when you were on the brink. leaving your bare pussy wet and needy, he stands up and wipes your remaining slick off his face. looking down on you, he commands, “stay behind after my lecture tomorrow.” his voice firm and unwavering before exiting the bathroom.

leaving you in the bathroom all alone, you contemplated the situation that just played out. your heart racing and your body still humming with desire. although, as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom, you’re already contemplating your outfit for tomorrow and a cute matching set to wear underneath for your favourite professor.

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[kittievampire]

Riddle getting drunk off of eating readers meow meow 🫣

I have a huge corruption kink for this man, so I went kinda wild on this one lmaooooo

Lemme see what I have in my bag, My Dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

His Favorite Flavor

Warnings: Cursing, Smut, Dubcon, Oral (F! Receiving), Sub!Riddle Rosehearts x Dom!Fem!Reader, Corruption Kink

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Enjoy~

Ah, yes, the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, himself. The one who lived so strictly abiding by the rules of the Queen of Hearts. Riddle was always so strict on himself and his peers, and he continued to enforce these rules even after his overblot. Of course, he was more lenient, now.

You always wondered what it'd take to get him to act out. It was unlike Riddle to completely go off the rails and do something insane. You could never picture him cheating on a test or sneaking off campus after hours or roughhousing. Being an overly curious person, you wanted to see him do something completely out of character. Something that no one else would believe unless they saw it.

Honestly, you don't even remember how it all started. You don't really care to remember at this point.

All you cared about was that the former tyrant of the Heartslabyul dorm, the boy that was so hell-bent on following the rules and setting an example, was on his way to being your personal little plaything.

_

"You're so cute, Riddle," You cooed affectionately, your soft hand gently caressing the top of his head, fingers entwined in his red locks as his tongue was buried as deep as it could possibly go inside of your pussy. His eyes were glazed over with lust, and they would either stare up at you affectionately or roll to the back of his head. "Such a good boy for me." The redhead whined at your praise, thrusting and swirling his tongue along your walls before pulling it out and dragging it along your clit.

He was so much better at this, now.

The first time he ate you out, you had to coach him through every little thing. Being a fairly fast learner, Riddle picked up the best ways to make you feel good. You pulled his head back, his saliva clinging to your pussy in such a deliciously devious way. "Look at you," You murmured, his glazed over eyes staring up at you. "Getting all messy just to make me feel good... I wonder what everyone else would think." You shoved his face into your pussy again, Riddle immediately gripping your thighs like a vice as he aggressively ate you out, dick twitching in his pants. "Mmnhh! H-How would your dormmates r-react, hmm? Seeing their leader so... S-So..." You let out a soft moan as his tongue pressed against an especially sensitive spot. "So submissive and good for me... So quick to get on your knees and pleasure me..." He moaned into your cunt at your words, thrusting his hips against the air as he swirled his tongue around your clit. "P-Please," He whimpered. "W-Wanna... Be in you... Please l-let me..." Riddle's voice was so soft when he begged. So adorable.

You licked your lips and tapped on your inner thigh. "You know the answer to that already, Riddle. Make me cum first, unless you want a punishment for not following my rules."

"P-Punishment...?" Riddle's heart skipped a beat at the sound of it, cock dripping with precum at the thought of being disciplined by you. "You want to be my good boy, don't you?" His hips bucked instinctively as he heard you call him that again, bottom lip quivering as those doe eyes of his stared directly into yours. Slowly, he leaned forward and dragged his tongue over your slit again, making you shudder. "I'll... I'll be a good boy," He murmured out softly, hooking his hands on the underside of your thighs while his thumbs spread the lips of your pussy for easier access to your cunt.

With little hesitation, he shoved his tongue into your hole, eating you a little more aggressively this time. You leaned back a bit, biting your lip to muffle a moan as you reached up to squeeze your own breast. The attention he gave to both your hole and your clit was just so perfect. Then again, he was a fast learner and a perfectionist. Your walls squeezed around his tongue as your body twitched, signalling that an orgasm was near.

"I-I'm gonna- hhnNGHH!" You're cut off by the slurping sound he made as his tongue moved faster, his hand joining his mouth in pleasing you. His thumb started rubbing quick circles over your clit as he thrusted his tongue into your pussy, making you arch your back and cry out as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. Your juices poured out of you as your body spasmed, walls clenching and unclenching so rapidly around his tongue as you made a mess of his face and the bed beneath you.

Riddle pulled away momentarily, slowing his motions on your clit before doing so to allow you to ride out your orgasm.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, eyes slowly meeting the clock hanging on a wall in his room. "Oh..." You murmured. "Just... In time..." You took in a deep breath as the fog in your brain slowly went away. "Class is about to sta-" You started to sit up, only to be pushed down by a desperate-looking Riddle who's unbuckling his belt. "I want my reward, MC."

Your eyes could barely take in his disheveled look. Your cum was dripping from his mouth and all over his chin, his uniform was wrinkled, his tie was off, and his pants were down. His throbbing, angry cock was sliding against your cunt as he held your legs in the air, his eyes never leaving yours. "B-But class, Riddle-" You hissed as the tip breached your entrance.

He couldn't stop himself from bottoming out, letting out a pathetic mewl as he felt your walls squeeze around his cock. Only a couple of seconds were given for you to adjust before he whimpered out an apology and started desperately thrusting into you.

Riddle's pace, unlike his disposition, was erratic and uneven, his balls slapped against your ass as his cock dove deeper into your hole with each thrust. His eyes rolled back and a twisted grin formed on his face. Slowly, his stormy gaze met your teary-eyed as he shushed you, your moans having gotten momentarily louder than his own.

"I don't want to go to class, MC... I want you."

Masterlist

Thanks for reading!

[folkwhoredoll]

𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 - 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒙 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

kinktober 2024 masterlist

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

warnings: smut

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You’re still laughing when the door to Drew’s apartment closes behind you. The evening had been fun — more fun than you’d expected. Between the subtle flirting, teasing glances across the table, and the easygoing jokes, you were almost sure that nothing would come of it. After all, it was Drew Starkey; charming, laid-back, with that irresistible grin that made your knees weak. But nothing serious, right?

Yet here you are.

Before you can say anything, his hands are already on your waist, pulling you in close, his lips hovering near your ear. "I've been thinking about this all night," he whispers, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers dig into your hips, grounding you against him, and for a second, you lose your breath.

"Drew…" you start, but he’s already tilting your chin up, his lips brushing yours softly, testing, teasing, until you can’t resist anymore. You kiss him back, hands finding his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. The intensity between you shifts, what started as playful banter now burns with need.

His hands slip beneath your shirt, fingers grazing over your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up and off, revealing your bra. The heat in his eyes makes your breath hitch, and you feel the desire roll through you in waves. There’s something about the way he moves; confident but easy, as though he’s savoring every second of you.

Without warning, he drops to his knees.

You stare down at him, your pulse racing, anticipation building as you watch his fingers hook into your jeans, slowly tugging them down your legs. The cool air hits your skin, and the sight of him between your legs.

Drew Starkey, looking up at you with that sinful grin that has you biting your lip in anticipation.

“Drew,” you whisper again, but your voice is softer now, more pleading than before.

His hands slide up your thighs, his palms warm against your bare skin as he parts your legs just enough to settle himself comfortably between them. The first touch of his lips on your inner thigh makes your breath catch, and he doesn’t rush — he takes his time, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, his stubble lightly scraping your skin in the most intoxicating way.

“I want you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, your mind is already spinning, your body reacting to every light touch, every flick of his tongue as he moves closer to where you want him most. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and Drew groans softly in response, sending a wave of heat straight through you.

And then his mouth is on you.

The first stroke of his tongue has you gasping, your hips bucking instinctively toward him, but Drew’s hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he works you over slowly, methodically. His tongue moves with perfect precision, each pass over your clit sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you, your fingers tightening in his hair as he continues his relentless assault on your senses. He hums against you, the vibration adding another layer of intensity to the already overwhelming pleasure building deep inside you.

“God, Drew,” you breathe, your voice shaky, and he just smirks against you before his mouth returns to its work, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving you higher and higher.

He pulls back for a brief second, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, and the simple statement has your entire body flushing with heat. Before you can even process it, he’s back between your legs, his mouth working you with a renewed sense of urgency, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place.

It doesn’t take long before you’re falling apart beneath him, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan his name, your back arching off the bed as he pushes you over the edge, his tongue never slowing until you’re left a quivering mess in his hands.

When he finally pulls away, his lips are glistening, his hair tousled from your grip, and that smirk never leaves his face. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rising to his feet as he leans over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“You good?” he asks, his voice playful, but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath, your body warm and languid from the release.

“Good,” Drew grins, his hands still roaming over your skin. “Because we’re just getting started.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

a/n: hi everyone! here's my first entry for my kinktober 2024 series🥰 i hope you enjoyed reading this 🤍

[smileysuh]

aphrodisiac

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader I ft. Lee Donghyuck

🔮 preview. You kiss him softly at first, waiting to see how he reacts. Mark is frozen, but after a second, his hands pull you closer, his lips moving more urgently against your own. His tongue licks at you, and you open your mouth for him, accepting everything Mark is giving you on the dance floor. You hook your fingers in Mark’s belt, pulling his body flush to your own. He groans against your lips, deepening the kiss. It’s a struggle to breathe, a struggle to do anything but get lost in the demon hunter as he kisses you in a way you’ve never been kissed before. He tastes like rum, coke, and a deep longing that’s been brewing for much more than a week. His hands cradle you close, as if he never wants to let go, and you wonder for a moment if he’s wanted this for as many years as you have.

tw/cw. slight cnc (demon!Hyuck uses an aphrodisiac power to make reader and Mark fuck, but they've been into each other for years), weird voyeurism, weird demonic shows of dominance through dirty talk, dirty talk, breast worship, pussy worship, oral (f receiving), exhibitionism (fucking in a deserted alleyway), Mark has big dick energy in this, roughness, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, face riding, aphrodisiac assisted powerful orgasms, multiple reader orgasms, death, etc…

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.5k

🍭 aus. demon au, demon!Hyuck, demon hunter reader/Mark, childhood friends to semi-forced lovers, fake dating, hotel only has one bed, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this is hella on the tame side of cnc since that's not generally something I've ever written, but I still wanted to include the warning since Hyuck uses his demonic powers to utilize the attraction Mark and reader have to each other to get them to fuck.

Prologue

Huddled with the two other girls enduring demon hunter training, your eyes are all fixed to the newest recruit. He’s small for a boy of his age, but it’s clear from the way he’s battering the test dummy that he has the physical endurance to excel. 

You’ve never seen a male train before, as generally the seasoned demon hunters take to training people of their own gender in their older age. Your current mentor, an older woman named Suki, has only ever taken on female pupils, until now.

“I know it’s not a regular occurrence,” she’d told you last week, “but my grandson needs to be trained, and I’m not sure I trust anyone else to do the job.”

While your study focuses primarily on speed, stamina, and quick sneak attacks, Mark Lee has done nothing but strength based work since he’s arrived. You’ve watched him hike up the mountain every day carrying heavier and heavier bags of sand. 

If there’s one thing you can say for your mentor’s grandson, it’s that he’s got determination.

Mark pauses for a moment, adjusting his glasses and wiping sweat from his brow. Your friend next to you lets out a little gasp at the view, and the new demon hunter turns, his eyes locking with your own while the girls next to you dart to their hiding places.

He flashes you a tight lipped, polite smile, and then he gets back to his work, attacking the practice dummy with haphazard motions that you know he’ll hone over the next year or so he trains here. 

Despite his cute, boyish charm, you can’t allow Mark Lee to shift your focus from what’s important. He’s on his path to becoming a demon hunter, and you’re on your own.

You can’t let a boy distract you from your calling.

One

Mark has grown up a lot in the years since you’ve last seen him. He’s much taller now, and broader, however his angular face and signature glasses remain the same as ever. You stand on the train platform, simply watching him for a moment, the way his eyes shift, the hand in his pocket where he likely has a demon blade.

Finally, after you’re done getting control of yourself, you call out his name, and his gaze immediately turns to you.

The polite, tight lipped smile he flashes brings you back to the first week you met him, and a moment later he’s approaching you to pull you in for a hug.

You can feel his body on yours now, and there’s muscle under the loose fabric of his hoodie, muscle that hadn’t been there before.

“Y/N,” he breathes, and you take in his own woodsy scent with a sigh of relief.

You can bring a mountain boy to the city, but you can never bring the mountain out of the boy.

“It’s good to see you,” you admit, pulling away from Mark, “even under the circumstances.”

He nods solemnly.

While neither of you are city hunters, you’ve been called to do your duty together based on your shared past. Couples have been going missing, and after two months and numerous disappearances, Suki had suggested you and Mark could work on the case together. She’d taken into consideration the fact that you’d trained as a team before, a mixed gendered pairing that’s rare in the demon hunting world. 

Despite the ways in which you work well together, it’s not lost on either of you that this is going to be a job unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’re small town hunters, and this is a big city demon. Its class and abilities are unknown, but the one thing you’re certain of, is that it will be a hell of a lot more powerful than you’re used to.

It’s comforting to have Mark with you as the two of you leave the train station and grab a cab to go to the hotel you’ll be staying at, although, everywhere you look, the scent of lust and sin perfumes the city air. 

Two 

You let out a deep breath as you and Mark enter your shared hotel room. Without the exact details of how the demon is choosing its coupled prey, it had been decided that in order to evade any detection, the two of you would get a one bed suite. 

With couples being the primary target for the demon you’re hunting, you and Mark will have to play the part of lovebirds to the best of your abilities.

“I’ll grab the couch,” Mark says, already heading over to the uncomfortable sofa with his duffle in hand. “We should get some dinner and then go to some of the clubs in the west side district where people have been going missing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, placing your small, travel sized suitcase on the bed. While the decoration of your bag is pink and girlie, the inside of it betrays your dark calling. You’ve brought multiple knives, holy water, and various cursed objects that have been designed to harm demons.

Under your array of weapons are a few evening dresses, and a makeup purse that Suki had given you. 

“I’m going to shower and get ready,” you announce, already dreading the act of putting on lipstick and blush. You’re not used to dressing up for hunts, but this is a unique situation. You have to blend in with the pampered city folk, and you’ll be damned if you look anything less than authentic.

“I’ll catch a nap while you do that,” Mark sighs, already getting comfortable on the couch.

“Sleep in the bed, this will take an hour or so,” you instruct.

“Are you sure?” He blinks at you, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes.

“You need the rest, we both need to be in top shape if we’re going to do this right.”

Mark nods, moving to the bed. “We can do this.”

You’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you, or himself. 

Three

Mark has always been awkward, and that trait has increased tenfold now that you’re in the city. His motions in the club are very robotic, and at times, he looks like an anxious kitten, his eyes shifting this way and that.

He’d refused your idea that you should have at least one drink to relax a little, and Mark sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the inebriated couples circulating the dance floor.

“This isn’t working,” you sigh, standing close to his side as you look out at the many people who would be better targets than you. “We have to appear sloppy and in love if we’re going to attract this demon’s attention.”

“I’m not good at being either of those things,” Mark sighs, shifting an inch away from you.

“Clearly.” You release a deep breath. “Mark, we don’t look like a couple. You hardly touch me, you move away from me when I get too close- we can’t do our job if things continue like this.”

Mark’s eyes meet your own, and you can tell you’re both thinking about the same thing. Other than being frequent partiers in this westside dance district, the targeted couples had one thing in common in reports and missing persons files, they’d all been truly, deeply, madly in love. 

You’d scoured their social medias, gone through countless pictures of couples who couldn’t keep their hands off of one another- photos of lovebirds nestled together, the adoration practically oozing out of their eyes.

“Okay.” Mark nods to himself. “Okay, I can do this.”

His hand smoothly glides along the small of your back, and when he reaches your hip, he tugs you closer.

“That’s better,” you grin, leaning against his shoulder. “We’re more convincing already.”

“I’m just uh… not used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“Being close to uh…” He clears his throat. “Being close to cute girls.”

Demon hunting is a fairly solitary life, and you understand where Mark is coming from. When your life span is uncertain, it’s difficult to give your heart to someone else, especially when you’ve already given yourself to your cause. 

Mark’s own parents had been demon hunters, two wayward souls who’d somehow found each other in the midst of everything. They’d lost their lives just before his grandmother Suki had adopted him and trained him to continue their legacy. 

Relationships aren’t unheard of in the demon hunting world, but they often end in sadness, the kind of sadness that you’ve seen Mark carry around on his shoulders since you were both young.

“You can be as close to me as you want Mark,” you tell him, “we can do this, together.”

Four 

You’ve been in the city for a week, already another couple has gone missing. With each night, you can feel the tensions rising, Mark is getting more and more used to being close to you, and the close proximity to the cute demon hunter is helping your own lovebird charade.

He doesn’t hesitate at the club now, he simply grabs your hand and wordlessly pulls you onto the dance floor. It’s become clear with the recent missing persons case that while the demon is going after couples who frequent clubs, he doesn’t attack at the clubs. 

While you’re still on high alert, the club is a safe place- to a point. It’s obvious the demon is using clubs to find his next targets, but in the sanctity of a roaring crowd of dancing drunks, you can allow yourself to relax just a smidge. 

You and Mark have been touchy, and every graze of his fingers across your skin is lighting a fire deep in your belly. His eyes look into yours, and you’ve found yourself getting lost in the dark pools below his glasses.

He really is a handsome guy. 

You’d had a crush on him when you’d first met him, but all the girls you’d trained with felt that way about Mark Lee. He’d been bait lowered into a piranha’s nest, much like you both are now.

You can feel his breath on your face as you get close to him, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, hands skimming his strong back. His own fingers dance along your waist, keeping you close as people shuffle behind you.

It must be after one am, and you’ve been at this for hours. As time ticks by, you can feel the tensions rising. You’re both getting a little stir crazy, neither of you have fought a demon in a week, and living together has begun to feel almost too good.

At the same time, there’s the feeling of failure now that another couple has gone missing, and as small town demon hunters who always get their mark, failure is not something either of you are accustomed to.

Taking a deep breath, you lean forward, ghosting your lips past his ear. “Kiss me,” you tell him, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Mark gazes at you for a moment, you can see confusion written across his face. Then he looks down at your mouth. Your heart lurches into your throat from the motion, and you give him a small nod, a go ahead with your plan. 

You watch Mark’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you nuzzle against his warm palm, looking up at him with bated breath.

There’s a swarm of people dancing around you, but for a moment, it feels like it’s just you and Mark. You’re locked in on the look of him, the experience of being here with Mark Lee of all people.

He leans in slowly, pausing with just a hair’s breath between your lips. His eyes search yours, and you’re the one who finally closes the last of the distance.

You kiss him softly at first, waiting to see how he reacts. Mark is frozen, but after a second, his hands pull you closer, his lips moving more urgently against your own. His tongue licks at you, and you open your mouth for him, accepting everything Mark is giving you on the dance floor.

You hook your fingers in Mark’s belt, pulling his body flush to your own. He groans against your lips, deepening the kiss. It’s a struggle to breathe, a struggle to do anything but get lost in the demon hunter as he kisses you in a way you’ve never been kissed before. He tastes like rum, coke, and a deep longing that’s been brewing for much more than a week. His hands cradle you close, as if he never wants to let go, and you wonder for a moment if he’s wanted this for as many years as you have. 

Mark pulls away abruptly, pressing his forehead to your own. He’s panting, and you’ve found yourself at a loss for breath too. It’s a wordless connection, the two of you clutching each other while you get your bearings.

Finally, Mark swallows. “The club closes soon,” he mutters. “We should uh, we should get going.”

“Yeah.” You nod, stepping back slightly and running a hand through your hair to ground yourself. 

Mark grabs your hand, and he begins to pull you off the dance floor. If you haven’t looked like a couple in love for the past week, you’re sure you do now. Your skin feels hot where Mark’s touching you, and your heart is racing as fast as it had during training when you’d climbed the mountain every day. 

There’s a dull ache between your thighs, one you try to ignore as Mark takes you outside. The two of you assess party stragglers hanging out in the alley behind the bar, and suddenly, Mark is pushing you up against the brick wall there, pressing his lips to yours again.

You grab at his shirt, letting out a soft moan at the feeling of him. He kisses you like a man who’s been starved, and you suppose you both have been unsatiated in a way, for far too many years.

Mark’s lips move to your throat and you throw your head back, tangling your fingers through his soft dark hair. “For good measure,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe before pulling back.

His expression is unreadable as he looks at you. You’re still pinned to the wall, and your chest is heaving with the effort of trying to calm down after he’d just kissed your breath away.

“Good idea,” you mumble, giving him a curt nod.

“Let’s go home,” Mark says, grabbing your hand to pull you down the alley.

There are busier streets you could be walking- busier streets that a normal person would feel more comfortable using at a time like this, but you and Mark are looking for trouble, and as you make your way down a secluded alleyway ten blocks from your hotel, trouble finds you. 

“It’s quite the show you two have put on for me this week,” a voice rings out, and you immediately whip around to look at the man crouched on the fire escape one level up. You know the moment you see him that this is the demon you’ve been hunting. Although he looks quite human in the dim light of the alleyway, there’s an aura about him that feels wrong, dangerous. “Two little demon hunters out to catch a big bad. That’s very sexy.”

Mark’s hand flies to his belt, where his knife is hidden, but the demon lets out a low whistle that makes him falter.

“You won’t be needing that,” the demon announces. “After all, the aphrodesiac should be kicking in any moment.”

Your blood runs cold, and realization washes over you.

“Your little girlfriend has figured it out,” the demon clicks his tongue. “Have you?”

Mark’s gaze shifts to your own, and your pulse races at the brief eye contact, your pussy throbbing-

“I’m Hyuck, and I’m the demon who likes to eat my prey… after watching them fuck.”

“Shit-” Mark mutters, his hand beginning to shake by his hidden blade. 

“Just be grateful you’ll die after having sex,” Hyuck coos. “Something tells me the two of you have never fucked. I’ve been watching you all week. Bet you thought you were very convincing, pretending to be a couple and everything. Had your first kiss tonight, didn’t you? It’s cute.” The demon taps his fingers along the fire escape, standing up and looking down at you. “Cute that you ever thought the two of you could be a match for me.”

You try to grab your own blade, but your hands won’t cooperate. You’re overtaken by a need- if you’re not tearing Mark’s clothes off, you don’t want to touch anything at all. Your mind is still focused on the mission, but your body simply won’t do what you want it to do… except, you really want to jump Mark’s bones.

“If it’s any consolation, my aphrodisiac power only works on people who are already into each other. You can fuck without worrying that the other isn’t into it, and since it’s your last night on Earth, you might as well enjoy it… if you can.” Hyuck cocks his head to the side. “Guessing this isn’t the way you wanted your first time with your pretty little girlfriend to go, but, all’s fair in love, war, and demon hell spawns.”

You and Mark are still frozen, and you’re trying your best not to move a muscle, because you’re pretty sure if you do, you’ll all but launch yourself at Mark.

It’s a struggle to even speak, but you manage to say his name. “Mark?” 

“Yeah?”

“What do we do?”

Neither of you were prepared for this. A demon who can use sexual energy to force his prey to fuck, then devour them when they’re spent from a climax- this isn’t something you have any training for, and your mind is doing its best to figure this out despite the cloud of lust that’s threatening to overtake you.

“I-” Mark releases a groan. “I don’t know.”

“Struggle all you want, but it won’t matter,” the demon chuckles. “Here, I’ll make it easy for you. I bet she tastes wonderful, Markie, look at those kissable lips.”

Mark takes a step toward you, and his muscles quiver at the effort of holding himself back.

“Don’t you want to touch her?” Hyuck continues. “I know I would.”

“You’ll never touch her!” Mark snarls.

“I think you should eat her before I do,” the demon grins.

Mark swallows thickly, his eyes meeting yours. He’s breathing heavily, and you find yourself panting at your own restraint.

“Mark-” your voice cracks.

“We can do this,” Mark tells you. “We can kill him.”

“Mark-” you say, more firmly this time. “Just…” Your strength breaks, and you throw yourself at your friend, wrapping your arms tightly around him. Your lips ghost past his ear, and you whisper, “Fuck me, I have a plan.”

He turns his head as you begin to kiss his neck, his whole body shaking- and then he breaks too. His arms wrap around your body and he slams you against the wall, his mouth meeting yours in a fiery clash of tongues and teeth.

“There we go,” the demon whistles. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You’re hardly listening to the demon at this point, you’re consumed with an insatiable need for the man who has you pinned to the brick wall at your back. Mark is grinding against you, and you can feel his cock throbbing in his jeans.

You can’t help but move your hand down to cup him, and Mark groans deeply, his teeth biting at your bottom lip. He’s panting hard, and his breath tickles your throat as his lips move down to your breasts. His tongue trails along your collarbone, and he grabs one of your boobs, kneading the flesh there.

You gasp at how good it feels, squeezing him harder through his jeans. “Fuck-” Mark groans, roughly tugging your shirt and bra down. His mouth latches onto your nipple, and you release a whine of pleasure, throwing your head back.

Opening your eyes, you look up at the demon. He’s leaning over the rail, watching you and Mark with a lazy smile. To your utter disgust, Hyuck winks at you, and you avert your gaze, trying to focus on Mark.

Logistically speaking, the demon is probably banking on you and Mark using all your stamina in a lust fueled haze- you’d bet anything that this is about to be the most powerful orgasm of your life, and if you can just get there quick enough, hopefully you’ll have enough energy left over to kill the demon before he can kill you. 

Although, your body is already sore from holding yourself off when the aphrodisiac had kicked in, so this might be a long shot- but it’s the only one you have, and you’ll be damned if you die just minutes after fucking Mark Lee.

“Take your jeans off,” you tell Mark, voice gruff.

“Nuh uh uh,” the demon clicks his tongue. “I said I wanted loverboy to get a taste of you first. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Fuck. 

Mark’s already sinking to his knees, pushing your skirt up roughly and tearing your panties off. He looks up at you, and you can see there’s fear in his eyes. It’s obvious that he’s not acting out of his own accord now- the demon has completely consumed him with his lust, and it’s the most you can do to nod reassuringly. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I want this.”

Sure, you want Mark to eat you out, but you’d never in your wildest dreams imagined it would be like this.

If you make it through tonight, you promise yourself that you’ll have a do over. 

You just need to make it through tonight. 

“Take her knife sheath off,” the demon instructs next, and you flinch when Mark tears the holster off your thigh, tossing it to the side.

Mark’s breath is hot on your wet pussy, and as you lift your leg to put it over his shoulder, you’re careful to survey the alleyway to see where your knife has landed. 

Mark dives into your pussy, his tongue lapping at the sensitive bud, and you release a loud moan of pleasure. Your hands find his hair, keeping him where you want him while you begin to grind against his face.

“Tell him he’s doing good,” the demon instructs. “He deserves a few nice things before he dies.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at Mark. “You’re doing good,” you whisper, your voice shaky. 

He groans in response, his tongue pushing into your wet hole and flicking at your walls. 

“Fuck-” you whimper. “My clit-”

“Suck on her clit, pretty boy,” the demon calls, releasing a mischievous chuckle that has your toes curling in annoyance and hatred. It’s almost a form of beratement, the way he’s talking to the soft boy between your thighs, and it fills your heart with vitriol. 

Mark’s wet lips suction around your clit, and he sucks lewdly. Pleasure jolts through your body, a kind of pleasure you’ve never experienced before. When you close your eyes, your mind goes numb, body entirely consumed by the feeling.

You’re not sure if this is the aphrodisiac at work, the long years you’ve wanted this, or if Mark’s just extremely good at eating a girl out.

“I’m close,” you whisper, tightening your grip on Mark’s hair. You don’t want him to move away, but your body also won’t allow him to. Mark could die between your thighs from suffocation right here and now, and you’re pretty sure you’d be powerless to stop it.

Mark moans again, his hands squeezing your thighs. You look down at him, your eyes meeting, and that’s all it takes for you to explode on his tongue. “Fuck!” you scream, writhing in his grasp- now it’s Mark’s turn not to let you get away.

Your orgasm is completely all consuming, every single muscle feels like it’s contracting, your skin flaring with a heat that rivals hell fire. You’re gasping, clutching at Mark’s curls, unable to do anything except for experience a high unlike that which you’ve ever dreamed of.

It feels longer too- like you’ve been suspended on cloud nine for minutes before Mark finally lets up. Then, he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He undoes his belt in record time, pulling his cock out-

“Pick me up,” you tell him, legs feeling like jelly… although, your mind feels clearer than before. 

You need to conserve energy, and if you continue to stand like this, you’ll never be able to kill Hyuck. 

It’s all too easy for your strength based demon hunting counterpart to lift you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his hips as he pushes his cock into you.

Your lips meet as he sheaths himself deep in your pussy, your still quaking walls struggling to accommodate his impressive length. You’re a whimpering mess as he pins you to the wall, and he’s releasing low groans of his own that turn you on even more.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it drives you wild, your fingers tearing at his hair and shoulders for an anchor as he begins to fuck you.

Mark’s heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can feel it where your chests are pressed together. You break the kiss, hoping to give him some breathing room since he’s now taking the bulk of the effort. Your lips find his throat, and you try to calm down, inhaling deeply through your nose, focusing on the smell of the mountain and your memories of training.

The demon has been too quiet, so you open your eyes to find out where he is. 

He’s come down from the fire escape, and he’s crouched on a dumpster just bellow the ladder, watching you intently.

You close your eyes again, focusing on Mark. He feels so good- working your pussy open with each rough thrust. His hands are steady on your thighs, keeping you up and pinned to the wall- his strength is so sexy, and your pussy throbs while you think about it.

Mark releases a groan, fingers twitching.

“Looks like loverboy might not last much longer,” the demon muses. “That’s a shame for you both.”

“Mark, I want to ride you,” you announce. “Wanna ride you when you cum.”

“Not just a pillow princess, are you, pretty little thing?” Hyuck grins.

“Let me ride you,” you say, more forcefully this time.

Mark releases a groan. “But this feels so good-”

“Mark,” you hiss. “Let me ride you!”

With a grunt, Mark pulls out of you, and he’s quick to drag you down onto the alleyway pavement.

He has the wherewithal to spread his jacket open so your knees don’t hit gravel as you mount him, lifting your skirt higher on your hips and sinking down onto his cock with a whine.

You sit there for a moment, both of you breathing heavily. Mark’s hands find your waist, and you rest yours over his own, giving him a squeeze.

He begins to bounce you on his cock, taking some of the strain off of your thighs. You brace your palms on his chest, maneuvering yourself so it’s the least strenuous position.

You’re so wet you can hear an audible slicklike smack with each thrust onto his cock. In this position, he’s hitting even deeper- and it takes all your mental control to not get completely lost in Mark this time.

You’re aware of your knife, a meter away, and the demon, who’s gotten even closer now, his eyes fixed on the meeting of you and Mark’s bodies.

“If we don’t-” Mark swallows thickly. “If we don’t make it out of this, I… I love you.”

Your heart practically bursts out of your chest at the innocent way Mark’s looking up at you even while balls deep in your pussy.

“I-” your voice cracks. “I love you too.”

“I a confession of first love- this is definitely going to satiate my sweet tooth,” Hyuck practically purrs. He’s now only two meters away, and caught in the raptures of his aphrodisiac, there’s nothing you can do about it- not yet at least.

“I’m close,” Mark tells you, drawing your attention back.

“Not until she cums too, loverboy,” the demon tuts.

Mark’s thumb finds your clit as you ride him, and your muscles scream at you as they begin to tense again, readying you for another Earth shattering orgasm.

“Fuck, Mark-” you groan.

You close your eyes, focusing on your breath and conserving your energy even while you ride him-

Each stroke of his thumb along your sensitive bud has you closer and closer, your thighs quivering desperately, your abdominal muscles clenching tighter and tighter-

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” You can’t even finish your sentence as your high slams into you.

You throw your head back, releasing a sinful moan as your entire body surges with that same all consuming white hot energy as before. Your skin tingles like you’ve been hit by lightening- and just below you, you hear Mark let out a groan of his own-

Now that you’ve cum twice, you feel as cognizant as ever, but it still takes all of your willpower to jump off of Mark as his own orgasm takes over. You can’t focus on him right now, and you dive for your knife, latching onto the hilt with shaky fingers.

You’d been trained for stamina and stealth, but your primary weapon of choice, has always been knives.

It takes a substantial amount of energy for you to even get to the blade, let alone still your body enough to release a breath and let the knife soar out of your hand, somersaulting in the air in something like slow motion toward the demon, who is as shocked as you are that you’d somehow overcome his aphrodisiac.

Before Hyuck can even dodge it, the knife lands in his chest. His stunned eyes find the blade impaling him, then turn to you for a moment, a moment later his body begins to melt, turning into a sludgy ashed mass on the alleyway pavement.

You release a breath before collapsing to the ground. 

There’s gravel pressing to your cheek, but you don’t even care. You’re overcome with exhaustion, an exhaustion unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and Suki used to make you climb the mountain three times every morning back during training.

“Y/N?” Mark calls your name.

“He’s dead,” you announce, breathing heavily.

“You did it,” Mark says, and although he’s too exhausted for much animation, you can hear the relief in his tone.

“We did it,” you tell him. 

You’d relied on his strength while fucking to conserve your energy for one throw of your knife at the very end of it, one semi-calculated move that had just saved your lives. 

The two of you simply lay there for a few minutes, regaining your composure as the last of the demon’s aphrodisiac effects wear off.

Finally, you sit up. Your legs are weak as you fix your skirt, covering your thighs and your dripping pussy. You lay down next to Mark, too shy to look at the cum that’s staining his shirt.

You hate that you had to jump off of him at the moment of his release- and you can tell from the pink flush of his skin that he’s embarrassed about it too. 

“It’s over,” you whisper, reaching for his hand.

Mark squeezes your fingers, but he stays quiet.

You don’t say anything else, and when you’re both able to stand, the two of you head back to the hotel.

Five

“Hi,” you say softly, watching Mark exit the bathroom, his hair wet from his shower. “How did you sleep?”

“Slept like a rock,” he responds. “You?”

“Same. Last night was exhausting.” In fact, your entire body aches.

“Guess we’ll both be going home today,” Mark sighs.

“Guess so…” You look at your suitcase, you’d taken the liberty of packing it while Mark was in the shower. “I think… I think I might go visit Suki.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “After this one, I think I’d like to rest for a week, get my strength back up… not to mention a bit of a mental wellness check.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mark agrees. “Maybe… maybe I should do that too.”

“You’re not needed back in your usual town to kill demons?” you grin.

“They can spare me a week if your town can spare you. I think we both deserve a rest after this one.”

“Should we book train tickets then?” you suggest, your heart warming at the idea of a small rest vacation with the demon hunter.

Mark nods, and you appreciate the soft smile that forms on his lips. “Let’s go back to the mountain.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! Tbh, I grew up watching supernatural, and after binging the demon slayer anime I knew I wanted to try this kind of au- so glad I chose Mark as the main love interest because he brings such a sweetness to this :)

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🔮 preview. You’d thought an orgasm while overcome with an aphrodisiac was good, but nothing compares to Mark Lee finger fucking you within an inch of your life on the rocky bank of the healing springs while the whole forest and mountain purrs around you.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a forest hotspring), grinding, teasing, hand job, pussy eating, body worship, nipple play, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, multiple reader orgasms, creampie, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 215

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader

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You’re lost in your own little world as you begin the trail up the mountain. The hot spring is only a short walk away, and you cling your towel tight to your body to protect yourself from the cool summer air. It’s always been cold here, but you know that as soon as you get in the water, you’ll feel a lot better.

The trees are like solitary soldiers, standing guard as you make your way up a path that you’ve walked a thousand times. Each tree root and rock is familiar, and you can feel the tension in your body relaxing already.

The smell of pine and rich earth is a comfort, and you take care to enjoy every moment of reprieve. 

Suki had mentioned that Mark had left for a hike a short time before you’d awoken. You’re not expecting to see him until lunch. Solace will be pleasant after the ordeal you’d just faced, and you’ve been spending a lot of time soul searching in the past two days since you’d arrived at the mountain.

While the aphrodisiac powers the demon utilized had provided the right thing at the wrong moment, part of you still feels dirty, and you want to wash away the feeling of alleyway gravel indented into your skin.

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[sixeyesonathiel]

a/n: i wrote this because i recently found out that i’m ticklish as hell around my neck thanks to a handheld mini fan and a menace of a friend who wouldn’t stop aiming it at my neck. naturally, my first thought was: “satoru would be insufferable about this.” so here we are. blame my reflexes and the fact that i think teasing = love language. overall fluff with suggestive themes.

you feel the air shift before his fingers even reach you.

it's the soft swish of his blindfold slipping down to hang loose around his neck, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips like he already knows he’s going to win this one. and maybe he does. satoru always plays dirty.

“you look like you’re scheming,” you mutter, nose buried in the collar of his shirt, the fabric still warm from the sun outside.

“me?” he breathes the word out, feigning innocence, but his hands are already moving—slow, deliberate, like he’s testing the air pressure around your skin. “never.”

his knuckles graze your neck.

you flinch. a microsecond response. involuntary. your spine straightens, shoulders tensing.

his grin sharpens.

“oh,” he says, like he’s just found a new favorite toy.

you shift in his lap, trying to lean away. not too much—just enough to get out of range—but it’s useless. he’s bigger, lazier, limbs sprawled like a spoiled cat with nowhere else to be. and now he’s watching you like one, too. like he can smell your resistance, taste your panic.

satoru tilts his head, white lashes catching the light, eyes far too blue for their own good. “sensitive, huh?”

“don’t,” you warn, already breathless. “satoru, i swear—”

he’s not listening. of course he’s not. his fingers slide up, barely grazing the soft skin beneath your jaw, featherlight and maddening. it’s not even a proper touch. just ghosting. suggestion.

your entire body jolts. “satoru!”

he laughs. low and wicked and so fond it makes your heart ache. “you’re squirmy today.”

you grab his wrist, but your grip is all bark, no bite. your hands are shaking with suppressed giggles, mouth pressed into a thin line to keep them from slipping. your knees are curled up against his hips, back arched, already caught in his trap.

“baby,” he drawls, dragging the word out like honey, “if you react like that just from a little breeze on your neck…”

you know what he’s implying.

the heat spikes in your cheeks immediately, rising up to your ears like a fever.

“stop it,” you whisper, but your voice cracks on the last syllable.

he leans in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “make me.”

you shove at his chest—gently, stupidly, like you want him to win.

he does. he always does.

his mouth is soft when he kisses the spot just under your ear, lips moving slow, almost reverent, but his hands are anything but. they creep up your sides like they’ve got a mission, and your body betrays you with a shuddering laugh you can’t swallow down.

“you’re evil,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as he nuzzles into your neck like it’s the safest place on earth.

“you’re cute,” he murmurs against your pulse, nosing along it just to feel the thrum. “you flinch like i’m gonna devour you.”

your breath hitches.

his tongue darts out, quick and teasing, and you yelp. actually yelp. the sound echoes in the quiet of your shared apartment, followed by your garbled protests and the rustle of you trying to escape his arms.

he doesn’t let you. he never does.

instead, he cages you in, wrapping you tighter, chin hooked over your shoulder now, all smug and warm and so in love it’s disgusting.

“satoru,” you groan, limp with laughter, face buried in his neck to hide your embarrassment. “you suck.”

“nah,” he hums, fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip, “i just know all your weak spots.”

you hate how true that is.

you hate how safe it feels, even now, tangled in limbs and flushed all over and grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

his lips press against your temple, soft like an apology he doesn’t need to say.

and under it all—your racing heart, your fluttery breath, his slow breathing and the solid thump of his chest against your back—there’s that familiar, grounding thing:

love. loud, annoying, gentle. always him.

[chokkzou]

⠀ ৴ the submission of the boys ─────

PART. 1 ! ︵︵ sypnosis : the bllk boys discovering the beginning of his submission (?.

link to part two !

𓄹𓈒        yoichi isagi , reo mikage , seishiro nagi

⸺　top male reader

﹏⠀ׄ⠀ Yoichi Isagi :

　⸺　 Isagi has always been someone who thrives on recognition and validation. He lives for those moments when his skills are acknowledged, when he feels like he’s making a difference, when someone tells him that he’s doing great. But it wasn’t until you came into the picture that he realized just how much your words affected him.

　⸺　 At first, he thought it was normal—after all, he liked being praised, right? But then you started doing it in ways that left him completely off guard. A simple "good job, Yocchan," said in a low, smooth tone after a match, your fingers barely brushing his sweat-dampened hair? That had him completely losing focus for the next few minutes.

　⸺　 And you noticed. It didn’t take you long to realize that whenever you praised him directly, with intensity in your voice, Isagi would react in the most adorably helpless way. His lips would part slightly, his eyes would flicker with something unspoken, and sometimes—if you were close enough—you could hear the way his breath hitched for just a second.

　⸺　 One day, you decided to take it a step further. After watching him score a goal, you pulled him aside, leaned in close, and murmured, "You looked so good out there." His face turned completely red. His hands clenched into fists, his body stiffened, and he stammered something incoherent before looking away, desperately trying to regain his composure.

　⸺　 That’s when you knew. Compliments were his kryptonite. And if you ever wanted to see him break, all you had to do was whisper something sweet with a bit too much confidence.

﹏⠀ׄ⠀ Reo Mikage :

　⸺　 Reo is used to taking the lead. He’s confident, he knows what he wants, and he’s never had a problem going after it. But for some reason, when it’s you taking control, he absolutely melts.

　⸺　 It started with small things—placing your hand on the small of his back to guide him through a crowded space, casually hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his head up, pulling him by the wrist with just enough force to make it clear that you were in charge.

　⸺　 At first, he brushed it off, laughing it away like it was nothing. But you saw the way his breath faltered each time, the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way he swallowed a little too hard when you did it without warning.

　⸺　 The moment you realized how much he loved it? You had casually placed your hands on his hips to move him aside while saying, "let me through, swettie " he froze.

　⸺　 It was barely a second, but you saw the way his pupils dilated slightly, the way his lips parted as if he was about to say something but completely forgot how to speak. And when he finally stepped aside, he did it almost robotically, like his brain was still catching up with what just happened.

　⸺　 After that, you made sure to test the limits—pulling him into you when he wasn’t expecting it, whispering "stay still" in his ear just to see if he could obey. Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.

﹏⠀ׄ⠀ Seishiro Nagi :

　⸺　 Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He’s lazy, indifferent, and rarely puts effort into anything unless it’s truly worth his time. But for some reason, he cares so much when it comes to you.

　⸺　 It started out simple—he began noticing the small things you did for him. You’d grab his water bottle before he even asked, adjust his hoodie when it slid off his shoulder, remind him to eat when he got too distracted with his phone. And each time you did something for him, he’d just… stare.

　⸺　 Not in a creepy way. More like in complete awe.

　⸺　 One day, when you casually handed him a towel after practice, he took it but didn’t move. He just blinked at you, gripping the fabric a little too tightly, before mumbling, "…you’re spoiling me."

　⸺　 But he didn’t stop you. And you noticed something else— Nagi never initiated much, but when you did, he followed effortlessly. If you tugged on his sleeve, he’d move. If you tilted his chin up, he wouldn’t resist. If you told him to do something in that smooth, confident voice of yours, he’d do it without even thinking.

　⸺　 So, naturally, you started pushing the boundaries.

　⸺　 One evening, as he lazily lay on the couch, you ran your fingers through his hair and said "sit up." And without hesitation, without question, he did.

　⸺　 That’s when you knew— Nagi wasn’t just being spoiled. He was waiting to be led.

[lupinqs]

FIRSTS ━━ paige bueckers x azzi fudd

☆ ━ summary: paige and azzi’s firsts.

☆ ━ word count: 12.9K (jesus)

☆ ━ warnings: slight smut, angst, fluff.

☆ ━ author’s notes: hiiii!!!! this is my first time posting on tumblr, even though i’ve literally been lurking on here for actual years… yeah! but i write on both wattpad and ao3 and decided that i might as well start publishing my work on here too. i hope you enjoy!!

I. MAY 2017

They're at the USA basketball U16 Trials, the gym buzzing with the energy of teenage girls and their need to prove themselves. The court echoes with the sounds of squeaking sneakers and bouncing basketballs. Two teams have been created—jerseys and no jerseys—for a practice scrimmage. The air is thick with anticipation, the scent of fresh sweat mingling with the sharp tang of floor polish. 

Paige adjusts her jersey, fingers brushing against the cool, breathable fabric. She stretches her arms overhead, feeling the muscles lengthen and relax. Her eyes scan the court, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of the game she loves. She's been here before, in this exact position, waiting for the competition to begin, and each time it feels like the most important moment of her life. The adrenaline hums in her veins, a steady current of energy that she channels into focus.

The whistle blows, sharp and clear, slicing through the ambient noise. It's not long before Paige's team is on defense, and she positions herself near the top of the key, ready.  

Paige doesn't think much of anything when she first sets eyes on the girl she's guarding. The blonde made a few fast friends earlier in the morning and this girl surely isn't one of them. She doesn't know her; doesn't care about knowing her; doesn't think about knowing her. She doesn't notice the way her brown eyes are glazed over with focus, the slight crinkle in between her brows as she furrows them, the way her mouth hangs open ever so slightly. In fact, Paige's eyes barely scan the girl before they trail right back to the orange basketball set in her hands. She watches as the girl dribbles the ball with a practiced ease, focus unwavering.

Paige moves into a defensive stance, eyes never leaving the basketball. Knees bent, arms outstretched, the blonde is ready to react to any move the girl before her might make. She can feel the eyes of the coaches on her, the pressure of the moment heavy on her shoulders. But she thrives on this; the intensity sharpens her focus. 

The dribbling of the girl before Paige is rhythmic, almost meditative, the ball bouncing in a steady beat that matches the thumping in the blonde's chest. For a short moment, the pair stay like that, testing the waters. And then the girl starts to move, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, gauging Paige's reaction. She fakes left, then darts right, the ball a blur between her hands. Paige follows, movements fluid and quick, matching the girl step for step.

The girl changes pace, pushing off her back foot and driving toward the basket. Paige is right there, her hand reaching out instinctively. Her fingers brush against the ball, and in a split second, she hooks it cleanly from the other girl's grasp.

Paige takes off down the court, her legs pumping, heart pounding in her chest. She hears the surprised gasps and murmurs from the sidelines, but she blocks it all out. All that matters is the basket ahead of her. She dodges a defender, movements a blur of agility and speed. With a final burst of energy, she leaps toward the hoop, laying the ball gently against the backboard. It falls through the net with a satisfying swish.

It's what she does best: steals, swifts, scores.

☆

The scrimmage ends with the final whistle and the players disperse, heading for their water bottles and towels. The gym slowly empties out as everyone make their way to the locker rooms. Paige follows suit, breathless and sweaty as she walks alongside Celeste and Jordan, two girls she made friends with at the beginning of the day. She takes slow, methodic sips from her water bottle as she does her best to return her heart rate and breathing back to what it was before all the cardio. 

After a moment, Paige excuses herself from her new friends, heading to the bathroom. It's quiet in there, only for the faint hum of the ventilation system. Paige goes to a stall and locks the door behind her. She takes a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline that only basketball can bring her slowly ebbing away. It's not long before she flushes and exits the stall, heading to wash her hands. 

As she approaches, she notices the girl from before standing at the sink, hands under the running water. Paige hesitates for a second, then moves to the sink next to her, the proximity making her suddenly aware of the dull silence between them. The blonde turns on the faucet, letting the cold water rush over her hands. She glances sideways at the girl, who's now drying her hands with a paper towel. 

Despite Paige's initial steal on the girl, it turns out she's a total bucket-getter. She'd surprised Paige and certainly got her revenge on her, scoring four three-pointers right over the blonde's head. Each one had swished so perfectly that all Paige could think was: sharpshooter. 

It takes Paige a moment to summon her courage and confidence—considering it's usually right on the surface and doesn't need to be summoned—but when she does, she speaks. 

"Hey," she says, voice breaking the quiet of the sterile bathroom. "You were great out there. Seriously, like, one of the best shooters I've ever gone against." 

The girl looks up, eyes meeting Paige's. There's a moment of surprise, followed by a small but genuine smile. "Thanks," she replies, voice warm and somehow smooth like butter. "You're really good, too. Surprised me a little bit, actually," she adds, a joking tone curling around her vocals. 

Paige lets an offended yet amused smile overtake her features, putting a hand on her heart as she amusedly says, "Hey!" 

The girl isn't on her own there, though. Paige knows that most people who look like her—skinny as bones and white as paper—can't play basketball like her. She's had people doubt her since she was little, but she manages to prove them wrong every time. Another case in point right here. 

Before the other girl can retort back, Paige asks, curious, "What's your name?"

"I'm Azzi," the girl answers, her smile widening just enough for a dimple to appear. 

Azzi, Paige notes, tucking it in the back of her mind, thinking it may be important one day. Whether that be sooner or later. 

And now, for the first time, Paige lets herself really look at this girl—Azzi, she reminds herself. She's probably about an inch or so shorter than Paige, and she's got tan skin and dark, curly hair that's been pulled back into two braids. Her brows, without the furrow of intensity she held during the game, lay flat, smoothing her forehead and giving her a softer look. Her brown eyes are deep and expressive, framed by long lashes. Her lips are full and her jawline is sharp but soft, with a smooth curve to it. Her two front teeth are slightly longer than the others, a bit like bunny teeth, and the dimples digging into her cheeks are charming in a way Paige has never seen before. 

And there, Paige realizes—with a slight sense of embarrassment—just how pretty Azzi is. 

It's a realization that catches her off guard, and—humiliatingly—she stumbles over her words as she introduces herself, coughing out, "'m Paige." 

Azzi nods, and Paige does her absolute hardest to try to push down the blush she can feel rising in her cheeks as the girl murmurs, "It's nice to meet you, Paige." 

Azzi's slowly walking towards the bathroom door now, and as she opens it, she adds, calling over her shoulder, "Hopefully next time we can be on the same team."

Paige stands there by the sinks, slightly frozen as she responds, "Yeah." 

Only after Azzi has closed the door behind her, leaving Paige alone there in the bathroom, the blonde adds, voice low in a whisper meant only for herself, "Hopefully."

II. AUGUST 2018

"Az, can you get my back?" Paige's voice echoes from the bathroom, where she's been applying sunscreen to her pale skin for the last few minutes. 

Azzi hums in response, halting her movements of packing her small drawstring up. She glances at her bag, half-full with essentials for their boat outing, before heading towards the bathroom. 

They're at the lake house, the last month of summer in full force. Azzi's grateful to get away from home for a little while, now in a different kind of home that she much prefers to the other.

The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar, and Azzi pushes it open gently. Paige is standing there, clad in her hot pink bikini—the girl sure does love her bright colors, Azzi knows that—with her back exposed, a bottle of sunscreen in hand. The sight of Paige is one Azzi has grown accustomed to over the past year, yet, especially more recently, it never fails to send a jolt through her. Paige's skin is a blank canvas, pale and soft, a stark contrast to Azzi's own tan complexion.

"Gimme," Azzi says, hand reaching for the bottle. Her voice is steady despite the unmistakable flutter of those butterfly wings she feels in her chest, her stomach, her everywhere. They've got the kind of pitter-patter that only Paige can bring her. And it only worsens when the blonde looks back at Azzi, meeting her eyes, baby blue on chocolate brown, hands brushing as Paige gives the younger girl the bottle, a stupid, beautiful grin of gratitude stretching her features. Azzi ignores the feeling, having grown accustomed to that, too, instead taking the bottle and squirting a generous amount of sunscreen into her palm. 

Paige pulls her hair to one side, giving Azzi full access to her back. Azzi's hands hover for a moment—a stupid hesitation considering how much she and Paige touch each other—before she gently places them on the older girl's shoulders, starting at the top and working her way down. The lotion spreads smoothly, a thin layer of protection against the summer sun. 

As her hands move across Paige's back, Azzi doesn't miss the silence. It's odd. Paige is such a chatter box that Azzi really never gets any silence when around her. Azzi remembers being a bit fed up with Paige last year because of it. It was in the earliest stages of their relationship, following them both securing their own roster spots on the FIBA U16 team. Paige was always talking and talking and talking, and Azzi was tired. Maybe it was because Paige was never talking to her. For some odd reason, that whole month of USA basketball, Paige had been such a babbler with anyone and everyone that didn't have the name Azzi Fudd. At first, Azzi thought Paige didn't like her. It made sense: Paige wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't make eye contact with her (on the off chance that their eyes did meet, Paige would immediately flit her own to anything that wasn't the chocolate color of Azzi's irises), and sometimes stared at her like she was something else completely. It made Azzi uncomfortable and even a little disheartened because they played so well together, and yet this girl wouldn't give her the light of day off the court. Of course, Paige was never rude to her. Azzi knows that Paige hardly even has the capacity to fulfill the word, ever the people pleaser. If Azzi spoke to her, Paige would respond kindly. She just never went out of her way to start the conversions on her own. And Azzi guesses she shouldn't have cared that much about it, except that Paige would start conversations with everyone else. In a way, it made her feel alienated.

However, it didn't take too long for Azzi to realize that whatever Paige's shyness around her was caused by, it wasn't that the blonde disliked her. Because whenever their team took group photos, the spot next to Azzi always seemed to be taken by Paige. The weight of the older girl's palm on Azzi's waist, the way their shoulders brushed as the camera would snap the shot, quickly became familiar nature between the two of them. And then, when they won the gold medal, Azzi was the first person Paige went to. Paige had let out a little scream of victory before launching herself into Azzi, arms wrapping around the younger girl's neck. They'd never been that close before, and Azzi recalls it making her head spin slightly. They had been sweaty and full of adrenaline, and Azzi had let herself hold onto Paige tightly, because they'd won. And then, in line while getting their medals, the pair held hands and Azzi got her first taste of what Paige's fingers felt like intertwined with her own. 

Truly though, the turning point was the flight back to Minnesota. Azzi supposes Paige was feeling bold, because as soon as the blonde's eyes set on her, she made a beeline for the seat right next to Azzi. Despite the celebratory affinity they'd shared earlier in the week, it caught Azzi a bit off guard. And yet, as soon as Paige sat down next to her, all that chatter that Azzi had watched the girl bestow upon their teammates was suddenly entirely reserved for her. Throughout the whole flight, Paige talked and talked and talked, and Azzi listened and listened and listened. They shared grins and fought to hide blushes and when the plane finally landed, it sealed the deal for Azzi. 

This chatterbox, bottle blonde, skinny white girl (that also happened to be one of the prettiest people Azzi had ever laid eyes on) was meant to be her best friend. 

So, now that they're standing here, Azzi's hands on Paige's skin, and Paige isn't saying anything, and Azzi—true to her quiet, listening nature—isn't either, things feel strange. The younger girl doesn't know why Paige is silent. She certainly doesn't let herself get so far as to guessing, though, because she knows that her mind will only take her to places she shouldn't go. Places she knows Paige has never let herself go to. 

But it's difficult. The silent air between them is thick, charged with a tension that's always there but never so predominant as now. Each touch sends a spark through Azzi, a reminder of the stupid fucking feelings she's been harboring for months now. It's maddening that Paige, her best friend of all people, has suddenly become the center of Azzi's thoughts, the place her mind always seems to be wandering back to. 

But, really, Azzi thinks, if you knew Paige, how could she not? She's a vibrant hue in a world of grey, so full of life. She's got a laugh that lights up any (and every) room she walks in, and a smile that makes Azzi's heart skip a beat. For Azzi, being around Paige is like basking in the warmth of the sun—comforting, but sometimes too intense to bear. 

Azzi's fingers brush against the nape of Paige's neck, and she feels a shiver run through her body. Her touch is careful, deliberate, but the closeness makes it hard to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She takes a deep breath, hoping to steady her racing heart.

Azzi finishes spreading the sunscreen, her hands lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. In that brief moment, she's acutely aware of everything—the warmth of Paige's skin under her fingertips, the faint scent of the sunscreen mingling with Paige's own subtle fragrance, the soft rise and fall of Paige's breath.

She pulls her hands away, taking a step back. Paige turns to face her, a grateful smile on her lips. "Thanks, Az."

Az, Az, Az, Az. Azzi's mind replays the way her nickname sounds falling from Paige's lips. 

"Mhm," Azzi hums, her voice more casual than she feels. 

And, before anything else can be said between the two of them, Katie calls out from downstairs, "You girls ready yet? We're waiting on you!"

"Yeah, we're coming!" Azzi calls back, grateful for the interruption. She gives Paige one last smile before heading out of the bathroom, her heart still pounding in her chest.

☆

Azzi's tired, curled up under the quilt laid upon her bed. Her bones ache with exhaustion, her skin burns from the extra exposure to the sun, her eyes are red and sore from rubbing all of the lake water out of them. She scrolls mindlessly on her phone, knowing she won't be able to sleep until Paige is over whatever energy burst she's got right now. 

The blonde girl is sprawled on the floor, digging through her duffle bag vigorously, searching for something she clearly needs. When she began the hunt a few minutes ago, Azzi asked what she was looking for and offered to help, but Paige had only waved her off, saying she'd find it herself. Azzi rolled her eyes and collapsed back onto her bed, trying to ignore the annoying sounds of Paige zipping and unzipping her bag, as well as tossing items along the floor. 

Azzi notices when Paige finally finds what she's been so longingly looking for. The shuffling halts, and Azzi sees Paige stand from the corner of her eye. Azzi begrudgingly sits up in bed, eyes set on her best friend, raising her brows ludicrously as she sees Paige's hands holding something behind her back, almost as if she's hiding it from Azzi. 

"Don't be mad, okay?" the blonde says slowly, smile full of suppressed energy. Azzi catches the spark that glints in Paige's eyes, a hint of mischief that usually means trouble. 

The younger girl rolls her eyes, ignoring the comment. "What do you have, Paige?" she asks, feeling a little bit like a mother that's about to have to reprimand her child. 

Paige, sheepishly, pulls a small object that's tucked in a ziplock baggie from behind her back, holding it up with a hopeful grin. 

Azzi's eyes widen and her jaw drops in surprise. Whatever she thought her best friend was hiding, it wasn't a blunt. But there it is, and Azzi can't help but stumble out, "Where did you even get that?"

"One of my friends from back home gave it to me when I told her I'd never smoked before. Said it was good stuff," Paige replies, grin widening. "I brought it here and, well... thought we should try it?" 

Azzi feels the familiar hand of anxiety wrap it's fingers around her rib cage. She gulps, asking incredulously, "Are you serious? What if we get caught? My parents will kill us!" 

"It was a long day, they're knocked out," Paige reasons, her tone reassuring. "No one's going to catch us. Besides, don't you wanna try it? Just once?"

Azzi bites her lip, torn between the thrill of doing something forbidden and the fear of getting caught. Her mind races with the possible consequences, the weeks of grounding she'd face should her parents find out about this. But then she looks at Paige, who's watching her with those bright blue eyes, full of excitement and trust.

"C'mon, Azzi," Paige coaxes. "It'll be fun. Just you and me. We've never done anything like this before. Don't you wanna know what it feels like?"

The logic is flimsy, but Paige's enthusiasm is infectious, per usual. Azzi feels a thrill of rebellion bubbling up inside her, fueled by the day's excitement and the safety of her parents' sure exhaustion. She takes a deep breath and nods.

"Okay, fine. But we have to be careful," Azzi says seriously, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Paige's face lights up with a triumphant smile. "Deal. Let's sneak out the back."

They move quietly through the dark cabin, careful not to wake anyone. The night air is cool against Azzi's skin as she and Paige slip out the back door, making their way down to the dock. The lake is a mirror, reflecting the starlit sky, and the only sound is the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle splash of water against the wooden posts. It's comforting; no one is out here to catch them. 

The pair sit on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the water. Azzi watches, heart pounding in her chest, as Paige fumbles with a lighter, her hands shaking slightly with anticipation.

"Ready?" Paige asks, looking at Azzi with a mix of excitement and nervousness. 

Azzi nods, her stomach a knot of nerves. Slowly, Paige brings the blunt to her lips and flicks the lighter, the small flame dancing in the night. As the blunt is lit, she takes a deep drag, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling slowly. She coughs a bit, but otherwise does pretty well for her first time. If Azzi didn't know better, she'd think her best friend has done this before. 

"Your turn," Paige says, passing the blunt to Azzi.

The younger girl takes it with trembling hands, bringing it to her lips. She mimics Paige, inhaling deeply. The smoke burns her throat, feeling like fire, and as soon as it makes contact with it, she coughs violently, tears springing to her eyes. Beside her, Paige laughs softly, patting her on the back.

"It gets easier, I think," Paige does her best to assure her, taking another drag and passing it back.

They continue like this, passing the blunt back and forth. Paige was right; each drag becomes a little easier than the last. The initial discomfort gives way to a strange, floating sensation. Azzi feels lightheaded, her thoughts fuzzy and her body relaxed.

The tension that Azzi has felt lingering between them all day seems to dissipate, dissolving into the lake air, replaced by a sense of peace and friendship. They giggle at nothing and everything, words flowing freely as the high takes hold.

"You know, I've always thought you were like, the coolest person ever," Paige breaks the silence, her voice dreamy and sincere.

Azzi laughs, feeling a warm glow spread through her chest. "Please," she scoffs lightly, rolling her eyes. That makes her feel a little dizzy; she notes not to do that again. "You're the cool one, Paige. You're so confident and, just, like, fearless. I wish I could be more like you."

Paige shakes her head, eyes bright and unfocused, irises tinted pink. "Nah, you've got this... quiet strength," she murmurs slowly, trying to find her words through the haze of intoxication. "You're always there, you know? Always solid. I really admire that."

The words strike a chord in Azzi, her heart swelling with affection. "Thanks, P," she mumbles, trying to keep her voice steady. "That means a lot."

They fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the night filling the gaps between their words. Crickets chirp, leaves rustle, the breeze ruffles the water slightly. Azzi feels a strange sense of peace, a connection to Paige that goes beyond what she can put into words. It's as if the high has stripped away all the pretense, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth of their friendship.

Azzi's mind drifts to the past year, to all the moments they've shared. Late-night FaceTimes, endless basketball practices and 1v1s, and quiet moments like this one. She thinks about how much Paige means to her, how her presence has become nothing short of a constant source of comfort and joy.

And then, unbidden, comes the realization of just how deep her feelings run. It's not just some crush she's got; it's something more profound, more terrifying. Azzi thinks she feels that certain way about Paige. She can't think it, can't conjure up that certain word, but, deep down, in that corner of her heart that's reserved exactly for the blonde girl and no one else, Azzi knows. And, no matter how terrifying it is, it's real. It makes her heart ache with longing.

"Hey, Azzi?" Paige's voice breaks through the younger girl's thoughts, soft and curious. 

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever thought about... you know, like, what it would be like to be with someone? Like, really be with them?"

Azzi's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing. "Yeah, I guess I have," she murmurs. I imagine being with you, she fights the urge to say. Instead, she adds, "Why do you ask?"

Paige shrugs, looking out at the lake. "I don't know. Just wondering. Sometimes, I think about it, and it's weird, you know?" She pauses, and Azzi guesses it's to gather her thoughts. "Like, how do you know if you really like someone or if it's just... I don't know, a crush?"

Azzi swallows hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "I think you just... know," she murmurs, nearly choking on the words. "It's like, you can't stop thinking about them, and you want to be around them all the time. They make you feel... different."

Paige turns to look at her, her eyes searching Azzi's face. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... confusing."

Azzi nods, her heart aching with unspoken words. "Yeah, it is."

Another bout of silence settles around them like a warm embrace, the lake shimmering under the starlit sky as the pair continue passing the blunt back and forth. Azzi's mind fogs thick with cannabis, the effects of the drug heightening her senses. Her anxiety is long gone, replaced by a much gentler buzz. She looks over at Paige, who's watching the ripples on the lake with a dreamy expression. 

It's not long before Paige speaks again, unable to bear silence. Even high, she remains a chatterbox. Azzi would never admit it, but she finds it slightly endearing.

"You know," Paige begins, her voice soft and contemplative, "I've never kissed anyone before."

Azzi turns to her, nearly choking at the admission. She didn't think their conversation would take a turn like this. And... truthfully, she's quite surprised. She knows how sought after Paige is; she's witnessed it. "Really?"

Paige nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah. What about you?"

Azzi hesitates for a moment. She thinks about lying; she doesn't know why. However, all thoughts of that go out the window when she meets Paige's gaze. It's full of a tenderness that's beckoning her, begging her, to be honest. "No," she mumbles. "I've never kissed anyone either."

The words hang between them, a delicate thread of unspoken desires and uncertainties. Azzi dares a glance at Paige, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She curses herself for it, wishing she were able to hide it better. 

Azzi feels Paige shift closer, their shoulders brushing. Her breath hitches slightly at the contact, the warmth of Paige's presence sending a shiver down her spine. "Azzi," Paige whispers, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the lake.

Azzi turns to face Paige fully, her heart pounding in her chest. She feels slightly nauseous as Paige's eyes search hers. She can't tell what exactly is swirling in Paige's pupils. Azzi has an idea, but it's so ludicrous she thinks she should never let the thought enter her own head ever again. 

"Have you ever thought about... what it would be like to kiss a girl?" Paige's words are soft, tentative, testing the waters. 

It's safe to say they nearly make Azzi fall into the lake and drown. 

The younger girl feels her cheeks flush with warmth, the question catching her off guard. She looks down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her shorts. She knows the answer. It's a simple yes or no question. And yet, it takes so much strength to say the words. Because it's terrifying. It's absolutely mortifying. Maybe if Azzi had thought about kissing literally any other girl, it wouldn't be so bad. But it's the fact that the girl she's thought about kissing, and liking to kiss, is Paige... that's what truly scares Azzi.

"Um," Azzi stumbles, coughing. She doesn't let the tears that she feel behind her eyes spring up. She's braver than that. "Yeah. I have," she finally admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige's expression softens, a tender understanding in her eyes. It makes Azzi know what's coming next. "Me too," Paige murmurs, her gaze lingering on her best friend's face. "Sometimes, I think about what it would be like."

(Azzi might actually die.)

There's a pause, a shared moment of vulnerability hanging between them. Azzi feels a knot in her stomach, a mix of fear and anticipation. This conversation feels like a threshold they're tiptoeing towards, a door they're both hesitant to open but curious to explore. Maybe every single little thing she thought was one sided... isn't. 

Paige reaches out, her thumb gently tracing the indent of where Azzi's dimple is. It's a familiar gesture, one that Azzi has grown used to, but tonight, under the influence and with the weight of their words hanging in the air, it feels different. Paige's touch lingers, and it makes Azzi's lungs feel like they're going out. 

Without a word, Paige's hand slides along Azzi's jawline and moves to cup her cheek, her touch warm and tender. Their eyes meet, and in that moment, every single little thing, every single line they've not yet crossed, seems to shift right before their very eyes. Azzi can feel the rhythm of her heart echoing in the silence between them, a steady drumbeat of anticipation.

Azzi closes her eyes, surrendering to the moment, the high helping her do so. It's a soft press of lips that starts it, barely a graze. Azzi feels their breath mingle, feels Paige's hand move from her cheek to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. And then she deepens the kiss. 

Azzi's hand finds Paige's waist, holding her close as she leans into her, their bodies fitting together as if they've always belonged. If Azzi could get any closer to Paige, she would. The world around them seems to fade into the background, leaving only the sensation of Paige's touch, the taste of her lips against Azzi's.

When they finally pull away, Azzi's heart might as well be failing, her mind buzzing with the fact that she just kissed her best friend, who she may also be a little in love with.

She feels Paige lean her head against Azzi's shoulder, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers. It's familiar; something they do so often it might as well be second nature at this point. But as Paige's thumb rubs circles on Azzi's hand, the younger girl thinks this might be a little different. She hopes it's a little different.

"I'm glad it was you," Paige whispers, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

Azzi smiles softly, feeling something she's never quite encountered before. "Me too, P," she murmurs, heart swelling with affection. "Me too."

III. MAY 2020

It's baking night, they've decided. A little after dinner, Paige's stomach began growling, and she'd complained to Azzi that she was hungry once more. Azzi wouldn't hear it, considering this was an everyday occurrence. So, Paige had begrudgingly rolled her eyes and gone to the kitchen, searching for a snack. The cupboards were mostly bare if not for ingredients; the Fudds needed to make another grocery trip. But Paige was hungry now, so she began searching into cabinets she'd previously left untouched. Eventually, she reached the smaller ones above the microwave and stove. What she found there made her face light up in an excitement that's been dull for a few days now (what with her and Azzi's family having exhausted most of their quarantine activity ideas). In the cabinet was a litany of baking mixes, frosting, piping bags, and sprinkles. 

And, of course, when Paige begged to make cupcakes, Katie and the others were all ears. (What else can they do?)

Paige isn't very good at baking, she's found. They'd had to throw the first batch away after the girl had accidentally spilled far too much milk in, effectively ruining it. It's not her fault; she swears she's out of practice. And she is. The last time she baked was when it was just her and her mom in that apartment, when Paige was still living half-and-half with her parents following their divorce. It was before her mom moved over to Montana, met Paige's step-father, and had two more kids. They'd been cramped in a tiny kitchen, in what Paige's mom called her "temporary apartment" (it was), and it would be too cold outside to take Paige to the playground or let her shoot hoops on the concrete. So, they'd decided to try baking. It was something they loved doing together, but Paige has watched it slowly fade away because now whenever she's in Montana, Ryan and Lauren get their way and they decidedly don't like baking. So, Paige thinks it's okay that she's a little terrible at it considering she hasn't done it since she was practically still in pull-ups. 

But here, with Azzi's family, Paige also thinks she can learn to be better at it. Because it's just so easy with them. It's not as if being at home in Minnesota, or being with her mom in Montana, is difficult necessarily. She loves her dad's little house in Hopkins, where the basketball courts freeze over and there's snow more often than not. She loves her dad, who's always pushing her to be better, coaching her even though it's not his job anymore. She loves Drew and his wild need to be just like her, her own personal mini-me. She loves her step-mother and step-brother, who have raised her in more ways than one. And she loves her mom's house in Billings, with its family-fun pool and sprawling backyard. She loves her mom, who will always be her biggest supporter, no matter what. She loves Ryan and Lauren and the endless stories they always have to tell her when she's visiting. But it never quite feels whole, on either side. Almost like there's a little cavity that won't fill, no matter how much amalgam is used to try and whisk it away. 

Paige doesn't feel that here with the Fudds. There's no missing puzzle piece, no hole to fill. And she's somehow managed to worm her way right into their welcoming arms. There's this sense of utter belonging she feels here, with them, with the rhythm they've created, and she's grateful. She's grateful for Katie and Tim, who treat her nothing short of another daughter. She's grateful for Jon and Jose, who are a constant source of entertainment and chaos, poking fun and making Paige laugh until her sides ache. She's grateful for Azzi, who's her best friend, her anchor, her constant. 

Paige is just grateful to be apart of something so loving and warm, especially now when the world outside is so uncertain. 

"Paige, can you pass me the vanilla extract?" Katie's voice echoes from behind the blonde girl's back, pulling her from her thoughts. 

Paige's ears perk up at the sound of her name, and she reaches for the small bottle. "Here," she calls, tossing it to her best friend's mother. Katie catches it easily, sending the girl a grateful smile.

Paige then returns her focus back to Azzi, who's focused on mixing the batter, brows furrowed in concentration. It's the same crease she gets when she's playing, Paige realizes easily, having committed every corner of Azzi's features to memory. The blonde feels a rush of warmth when her best friend's arm lightly brushes hers, as if they haven't been practically living in each others skin for weeks now. Paige, entranced and unblinking, watches as Azzi continues mixing, taking note of the way the reflecting sunset highlights her best friend's features through the kitchen window. 

Apparently she's been staring for too long, though, because Azzi, exasperated, asks, waving a hand in front of the blonde's face, "Hello, earth to Paige? You good?"

Paige snaps back to reality, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yeah, just thinkin'," she mutters absentmindedly, shrugging as she tries to play it off. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon," Azzi teases, holding out the batter-covered utensil. 

Paige smirks, responding, "Nah, I'll let you do the honors."

The blonde watches as her best friend raises her brows at the rejection, surprised. Paige just shrugs, still smirking. Azzi repeats the action, and then slowly, maybe a little too slowly, brings the spoon up to her lips. She makes eye contact with Paige, keeping the same pace as she licks the utensil, tongue flicking against it before putting the whole thing in her mouth, sucking it clean. Paige feels herself freeze as she watches, breath hitching at Azzi's actions and the look on her face as she does it. 

Jesus Christ, Paige curses in her head. It's an anomaly; she's not one to usually think or say the Lord's name in vain. But, seriously, Jesus. 

Azzi's smirk is wide as she drops the spoon in the sink. As Paige's eyes scan the younger girl's face, she decides she wants to get her back. She's about to stick her finger in the batter, ready to make a show of licking it clean just as Azzi did to her. But as her finger hovers over the bowl, she feels Katie smack her hand away, effectively ending Paige's plan and the moment she was sharing with Azzi.

"Enough of that," Azzi's mother scolds Paige, but the girl can see the hint of a smile on Katie's lips. "The cupcakes are ready for the oven."

The next half hour is spent cleaning up the mess they've made, with plenty of giggles and a few playful splashes from the sink shared between the two teenage girls. It doesn't take too long for the cupcakes to finish, and the whole family relocates to the back deck to start the decorating process. 

"These look amazing," Jose says, eyeing the cupcakes hungrily. 

"Wait until we decorate them, fatty," Jon replies, elbowing his brother in the ribs as he picks up a tube of icing. 

Paige begins decorating her own cupcake, picking blue and red colors. She hopes she has room for a husky and the word UCONN. She begins to squeeze a swirl of blue icing onto her cupcake, the air filled with the scent of vanilla and laughter as they all concentrate on their own cupcakes. 

"I think you missed a spot, P," the blonde hears Jon say from across from her, his voice too innocent to be sincere. 

Before she can even look up at him, she feels the cold spelt of frosting hitting her grey sweatshirt. Outraged, she turns to see Jon grinning at her, piping tube filled with hot pink icing still in hand. 

"Oh, you are so dead," she says, scooping up a handful of icing and launching it at the younger boy. It hits him square in the chest, and Paige thinks the look of shock on his face is utterly priceless. 

Chaos erupts. 

Jon retaliates, and it's not long before icing is flying in every direction. Paige dodges a glob of frosting thrown by Jose and responds by smearing a streak of bright red icing across his cheek. 

"Hey, stop! You guys are gonna make a mess!" Katie's voice rings out by the door, having backed away from the rambunctious food fight. Beside her, Tim is doubled over on his knees, lungs aching with his wheezing laughter. 

The four teenagers pay neither adult a piece of mind. Instead, the deck becomes a war zone. Paige soon finds herself caught in a fierce battle with Azzi. They're both laughing uncontrollably, slipping and sliding on the icing-covered deck. Azzi manages to smear a handful of frosting onto Paige's face, and the blonde retaliates by tackling the younger girl, sending them both crashing to the ground.

They lay there for a moment, breathless and laughing, before Azzi attempts to crawl away. But Paige is determined. She scrambles after Azzi, finally managing to pin her down. As the younger girl squirms beneath the blonde, Paige nuzzles her face into Azzi's neck, smearing icing everywhere. 

"Paige! Stop!" Azzi manages to squeal out between laughs; Paige knows her neck is where she's most ticklish. Azzi continues trying to wiggle free, but she's laughing much too hard to put up a real fight. 

Paige grins and pulls back slightly, only to realize their faces are inches apart. As Azzi fights to catch her breath, her eyes sparkle with mischief and something else, something deeper. Paige's heart skips a beat at it. She knows they both look ridiculous, covered in icing and laying on the dirty deck, but there's something there, between them. And it makes her heart race and stop all at once. 

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. Paige feels a rush of emotions—affection, longing, confusion. The three that always seem to be associated with Azzi. She's acutely aware of the younger girl's breath against her skin, the way their bodies are pressed together. It would be so easy to lean in, to close the gap between them. They've done it a couple times before. 

Katie's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. "Alright, enough! Go clean up, all of you. This is a disaster."

Paige, coming back to her senses, quickly breaks her stare and rolls off of Azzi, standing up and offering her best friend a hand. She helps Azzi to her feet, and they both glance around, seeing the mess they've made. A few feet away, Jon and Jose do the same. 

"We outdid ourselves this time," Paige says, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

"No kidding," the three Fudd siblings say in unison. 

☆

Paige stands under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the remnants of icing and the chaos from earlier. She closes her eyes, tilting her head back in the water, trying to relax. But all her mind can think about is her best friend, the feeling of her breath on Paige's face, her lips... 

Paige is confused. 

If only things with Azzi could be a straight path, one without all the twists and turns. She presses her hands against the cool tile wall of the shower, trying to ground herself. The water pours down her back, soothing her muscles but not her mind. Every thought leads back to Azzi, to the way her touch lingers, the way her smile lights up the room. Paige wants to scream, to cry, to laugh—all at once. She hates and loves and loathes and adores the way Azzi makes her feel. 

When she and Azzi first kissed—out on that dock nearly two years ago—it had been spontaneous, a sudden burst of emotion that Paige attributed to the weed. It had felt right in the moment, but they had never talked about it, never addressed it. They had just continued as if nothing had changed, even though everything had. And then, each subsequent kiss after only deepened Paige's confusion. Trust her, she's tried to convince herself that they're just best friends who occasionally cross a line that most don't, but deep down, she knows it's more than that. Her feelings for Azzi... they're too much, too saturated, too bright of a burst that Paige can't label them as merely friendly. 

It makes her heart and her lungs and her head ache, the uncertainty of it all. She's gone out with other girls, kissed other lips, but none of them compare to Azzi. None of them make her feel like she might implode from one look, one touch. None of them make her heart soar and plummet at the same time. For a while, Paige tried to chase that feeling, kissing all different people, searching for that high. She never found it. Because it always comes back to Azzi, to the way she makes Paige feel alive and terrified at once. It's almost like the younger girl has carved a piece of her heart and kept it, leaving Paige feeling incomplete without her. For Paige, the realization that she likes girls has been a difficult journey, fraught with self-doubt and fear. But coming to terms with her feelings for Azzi is an even greater challenge. It's one thing to accept her own sexuality; it's another to confront the possibility of loving her best friend.

And, of course the knowledge that—other than Paige—Azzi has only gone out with boys adds another layer to the blonde's confusion. It makes her feel like an outsider in Azzi's world, like she's asking for something Azzi can't give. Paige hates that thought, hates the idea of being a complication in Azzi's life. She wants to be everything to Azzi, but she's scared that she'll only end up being a burden. She tries to push those thoughts away, to focus on the present, but it's hard. The fear and longing are too strong, too deeply rooted.

When Paige finishes showering, she towels off and dresses into a Hopkins t-shirt and basketball shorts quickly, not bothering to dry her hair, letting it drip onto the floor as she walks back into Azzi's bedroom. There, she finds Azzi already settled in her bed, searching for something to watch on the TV. It's become basic tradition ever since Paige got here: watching a new movie every night (even though more often than not, they fall asleep during it). Azzi looks up and smiles warmly as Paige enters. It's a smile that makes Paige's heart flutter.

"Find somethin' yet?" Paige asks, trying to keep her voice steady. 

Azzi shakes her head. "Not yet. Come help me look."

Paige smiles and climbs into bed beside her. It's almost automatic how they cuddle up together, Azzi's head resting on Paige's shoulder, Paige's arm wrapped around Azzi's waist. This closeness is familiar, comforting, and Paige finds herself shifting her weight into her best friend further, craving the feeling. She thinks she belongs right here, holding Azzi, Azzi holding her. 

Eventually, they settle on Love, Rosie. Apparently, Azzi heard it was good on TikTok and decided they should try it. 

As the movie starts, Paige's hand begins to move almost unconsciously, tracing small circles and patterns along Azzi's inner thigh. It's something she's done countless times, just another way she expresses physical touch. As she does it, she can feel the warmth of Azzi's skin through the thin fabric of her shorts. It sends shivers down Paige's spine, and she does her best to pay attention to the TV, to ignore the way her chest feels like it's on fire. 

However, it's hard to do that when she feels Azzi shift slightly, spreading her legs just a little more. It could be a natural movement, unintentional. But Paige's heart skips a beat anyways, and she glances at Azzi, whose eyes remain fixed on the screen. Paige hesitates for a moment, unsure. And then, very slowly, she inches her hand higher on Azzi's thigh, testing the waters. When Azzi spreads her legs a bit more, Paige knows she's reading the signals right. It makes her heart stop and speed up in one go. 

Paige's fingers move with the pace of a snail but ultimately continue their journey upwards until they reach the edge of Azzi's shorts. She leans closer, her breath catching in her throat. "Can I?" she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Azzi nods slowly, her eyes still locked on the TV. Paige slips her fingers under Azzi's shorts and underwear, her touch gentle but deliberate. She's done this with other girls, but it's never felt like this. The anticipation, the excitement, the sheer intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming. She's wanted this for so long, quite literally dreamed of it, and now that it's happening, it feels surreal.

Paige begins to slowly work her fingers on Azzi's clit, movements careful and measured. Her eyes scan the younger girl's face for any sign of discomfort, but all she sees is pleasure. Azzi's breathing slowly grows more ragged, her body responding to Paige's touch in a way that makes Paige's own lungs feel heavy. As she watches Azzi, irises locked on her features, the only word that comes to mind is beautiful. 

Unable to resist any longer, Paige leans in and captures Azzi's lips in a kiss. It's only the fourth time they've ever kissed (yes, Paige may have been counting), but it feels like coming home. Azzi's lips are soft and warm, and the way she kisses back is so perfect, so desperate, that it makes Paige dizzy. The little noises Azzi makes underneath her only heighten the intensity, and Paige finds herself smirking against her best friend's lips. 

The kiss deepens, becoming more heated, more urgent. Paige's hand moves with more confidence now, her fingers working Azzi's clit with increasing intensity. Azzi moans into the kiss, her body arching against Paige's touch. It's all Paige can do to keep herself grounded, to focus on Azzi and the present. 

Paige breaks the kiss just long enough to tear Azzi's shorts and underwear off completely, her hands shaking with a mix of nerves and excitement. She positions herself between Azzi's legs, her fingers slipping inside with a confidence she's never felt before. The feeling of Azzi's warmth, her wetness, is almost too much to bear. Paige moves her fingers in and out, slow at first, then faster as Azzi's moans grow louder.

Azzi's hands grip her sheets, her eyes squeezed shut. Paige watches her, mesmerized by the sight. This is everything she's ever wanted, everything she's ever dreamed of. She leans down, capturing Azzi's lips in another kiss, her free hand tangling in Azzi's hair. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, their tongues tangling as their bodies move together.

"Paige," Azzi whimpers. Hearing her name on Azzi's lips like that sends a jolt of desire—of absolute need—through Paige. She moves her fingers faster, pressing deeper. 

And, fuck, as Azzi repeats her name again, Paige can't help herself. She has to taste her best friend.

Paige moves down, her fingers still pumping in and out as she lowers her mouth to Azzi's core. The first taste is intoxicating, and Paige's mind goes blank with desire. She licks and sucks with a hunger she's never felt before, almost primal in a way, her fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony. All she knows is she wants Azzi to feel good, to feel perfect. 

Azzi's hips buck against Paige's mouth, her moans growing louder with each passing second. Paige feels like she's drowning in Azzi, in the taste and the smell and the feel of her. It's everything she's ever wanted and more, a dream come true. She can feel Azzi's orgasm building, the way her body tenses and her breathing quickens. Paige redoubles her efforts, determined to make it good.

"Fuck—" Azzi gasps, her voice barely more than a whisper. "'M so close, don't stop." 

Paige hums in response, the vibrations sending Azzi over the edge. She comes with a cry, her body shuddering with the force of it. Paige keeps going, prolonging Azzi's pleasure as long as she can.

Finally, Azzi collapses back on the bed, spent. Paige pulls back, her face flushed and her heart racing. She looks down at her best friend, who's gazing up at her with an expression that makes Paige's legs feel like jelly.

"Paige," Azzi whispers the girl's name again, the only word her mind can conjure. Her hands reach for her, and Paige lets herself be pulled in for a kiss. Their lips meet, softer this time. Paige sighs into it—she could kiss Azzi for hours on end and never get sick of it. 

The blonde lays down next to Azzi, ready to sleep, ignoring the ongoing movie. However, before Paige can barely close her eyes, she feels them fly open as Azzi shifts so that she's on top of Paige now, straddling her. 

Paige flushes pink, mumbling, "Az, you don't have to—"

"Shut up," the younger girl interrupts, effectively halting Paige's words. Azzi leans down, lips finding purchase on the blonde's neck. Immediately, Paige's hands fly up to Azzi's hips, gripping the skin. 

However, Azzi stops far too soon for Paige's liking, pulling away. Paige tries to mask her disappointment at the lack of feeling, eyes feeling wide as she watches her best friend's every move. 

Azzi leans closer to Paige, lips nearly brushing the older girl's as she toys with the strings of Paige's basketball shorts. Paige feels her breathing stop. 

"Do you want this?" Azzi asks, fingers slowly undoing the tie. 

Paige nods, probably a little too quick and a little too enthusiastically. "Yes."

Azzi smirks. "Good."

IV. MARCH 2022

Azzi stares at herself in the mirror, her reflection looking back with a set determination. It's been weeks since she's gone out with the team, weeks since she's allowed herself to think about anything other than basketball. Tonight, she's determined to let loose, to have fun, and to forget about everything that's happened with Paige, if only for a few hours.

"Az, you look great," Caroline says, standing beside her and applying the final touches to her own makeup. 

"She's right," Amari pitches in from where she sits on the closed toilet seat. "If Paige doesn't take you home tonight, I will."

Caroline gives Amari a little slap on the arm for bringing up the "P word," as she's dubbed it. Since the fight and the ultimate end, or break, or whatever it is, of Paige and Azzi, Azzi has made it clear that she doesn't want to talk about the Bueckers girl if not necessary. And Caroline has respected that, doing everything she can to distract her friend from anything Paige-related (unless it came to basketball, of course).

Azzi lets herself smile a little, interjecting, "Carol, it's okay." But then she does give Amari a pointed look, saying firmly, "But I will not be going home with Paige tonight. That would only make things even more fucked than they already are."

Amari nods in understanding as Caroline glances at Azzi whilst putting her lip gloss on. "So, if not Paige..." she starts in a questioning tone, "will you be going home with someone else?"

Azzi sighs, shrugging. "Depends on what happens, who I run into," she responds. "Could be a good distraction, though."

She doesn't miss the worry that flashes in Caroline's eyes at that, but she also doesn't have it in herself to care about why. She's in college, fucking someone to get her mind off something isn't exactly uncommon. 

Nonetheless, Azzi appreciates Caroline's support in more ways than she can express. She knows her friend has noticed the change in her over the past few weeks, the way she's thrown herself into training with an almost obsessive fervor. Basketball has always been her refuge, but, lately, it's become her lifeline, a way to drown out the pain of seeing Paige with other girls, of knowing she isn't enough for the person she loves most. 

Azzi takes a deep breath and adjusts the strap of her top. It's a lilac number which truthfully could pass more as a bra than the cropped tank it's labeled as. She wears it with her new, perfect jeans which she knows hug her in all the right places. She hasn't worn anything like this in ages, preferring the comfort of sweatpants and oversized hoodies. But tonight is different. Tonight, she wants to look and feel her best (and maybe get someone to help her with that last part).

"Let's go," Azzi says, squaring her shoulders. She grabs her wallet and follows Caroline and Amari out of the bathroom and into the living room where the rest of their teammates have been waiting, Paige excluded. Azzi doesn't know where the blonde is. She tells herself that she doesn't care either. 

As they walk to the bar, the chilly Storrs air nipping at their skin, Azzi can't help but think about the last time she went out with the team. She remembers the way Paige had laughed and flirted with other girls, the way she'd entertained their advances while Azzi stood by, pretending it didn't bother her. But it had. It had hurt more than she'd ever let on, and it was that night—where she watched Paige willingly leave the bar with another girl that wasn't Azzi, not even bothering to say goodbye to her best friend—that had solidified her decision to end whatever undefined thing they had between them.

Ted's is buzzing with energy and life when they arrive, music thumping and people crowding. Almost immediately, Aubrey and Aaliyah are pulling Azzi to the dance floor, getting swept up into the excitement. Azzi goes with it, swaying her hips to the music and laughing with her teammates. 

Of course, it isn't long before Azzi sets eyes on her best friend, bright blonde hair sticking out in the sea of people. Quick after, Nika, from beside Azzi, catches sight of the girl, too, eagerly calling her name and waving her over. 

When she approaches, Azzi doesn't even give her the satisfaction of looking at her. She is not letting Paige Bueckers ruin her night. 

☆

And yet, despite her proclamation, Azzi thinks she may indeed be letting Paige Bueckers ruin her night. 

The brunette girl leans against the bar, vision blurry as she tries to focus on the bartender, on the who-knows-what-number drink of the night in her hand, on anything that is not the corner of the bar on her left side. It doesn't work. Curiosity manages to get the best of her, and she finds her eyes sliding over. She watches as Paige flirts with some girl, smirking as she leans down and says something into the girl's ear. Azzi's stomach twists with jealousy and longing. She's been in that position before, knowing exactly how it feels to have Paige's breath warm against her skin, her words sending shivers down her spine. Now, all she can do is watch. It makes her want to die that she isn't the one with Paige, and that she's the reason she isn't.

You did this, she tells herself as she takes a sip from the glass in her hand, letting the alcohol burn down her throat, hoping it'll numb the ache in her chest. (It doesn't.)

"Hey, you're Azzi Fudd, right?" a voice sounds on Azzi's left side. 

At the sound of her name, Azzi glances over, eyes landing on some guy probably a year or two older than herself. He's tall—taller than Azzi—with blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes that twinkle in the light. He's cute, she thinks half-heartedly. 

"That's me," Azzi responds, managing a smile. 

"I'm Sam," the guy introduces himself, sending her a grin of his own. It's charming, the kind that most girls would swoon over. Azzi hardly even blinks at it. 

They chat for a bit, Azzi allowing herself to enjoy the attention, though admittedly pretending to be more interested than she is. He's funny, though, and she laughs at his jokes, letting herself put a hand on his arm flirtatiously. But even as she entertains him, a part of her can't stop thinking about Paige, especially because she's right behind Sam, talking to someone who isn't Azzi. 

Azzi tries not to sigh, thinking about how many times they've done this. Gone out, had fun, flirted with other people, only to end up in each other's arms by the end of the night. Still, she knows she can't do that. She refuses to let herself get sucked back into that cycle.

However, as Azzi continues harmlessly flirting with Sam, she manages to catch Paige's gaze from across the bar. She watches as Paige takes in the sight of her and the Sam, eyes narrowing slightly, a challenge in them. Azzi feels a spark of defiance ignite in her chest. If Paige can flirt with other people, so can she.

Quickly, the conversation with Sam becomes a sort of competition. Azzi flirts more boldly, leaning closer, laughing louder, all while keeping an eye on Paige. Paige, in turn, seems to double down on her own flirting, making sure Azzi sees every touch, every smirk. It's maddening, and yet, it only fuels Azzi's resolve.

"Wanna get outta here?" Sam asks lowly, eyes trailing to the door. 

Azzi smirks and nods, letting him take her hand. As they make a beeline for the exit, Azzi feels a rush of triumph in her chest. She's won this twisted game, if only for a moment.

But before they can leave, Azzi feels a more familiar hand encircle her wrist, pulling her away from Sam. It's Paige, of course. Azzi wants nothing more than to scream at the blonde as she gives Sam a short, apologetic smile, saying, "I'm so sorry, I really need to talk to Azzi for a second."

Anyone that knows anything about UCONN basketball knows that Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd are a package deal, so Sam, looking a bit disappointed but understanding, nods and lets go of Azzi's hand. Azzi mutters protests to Paige as she's practically dragged to the bathroom by the older girl. 

Once inside, Azzi barely has time to process everything before Paige has her pushed against the wall, kissing her fiercely. The suddenness and intensity of it makes Azzi's head spin. Her body responds instinctively, hands reaching for Paige, gripping the skin of the blonde's waist. And then she remembers herself. Azzi's eyes fly open and she pushes Paige off, her anger flaring.

"Stop, Paige! What the fuck?" Azzi practically shouts, voice echoing in the small space.

Paige stares at her breathlessly, baby blue eyes looking foolishly innocent as they contort with confusion. "Why? We both want this."

Azzi shakes her head, trying to settle the fuzziness of the alcohol. "No, Paige, we can't. I can't."

"Why not?" Paige demands, stepping closer again. Azzi puts a hand on her bare stomach to stop her. It sends a jolt through her, and she's quick to remove it. 

As they stand there, face to face, Azzi can't help but let her mind wander to their last real conversation that wasn't just a murmur here and there on the court or on the bench. It was a few weeks ago, the morning after Paige had left the bar with that girl. It was early, Azzi still half-asleep as she felt her best friend crawl into her bed, maneuvering herself into Azzi's arms. Azzi had welcomed the embrace sleepily, before her mind traced back to the events of the night before. How lonely Azzi had been at the bar while Paige outright ignored her, how she'd gone home early feeling nothing short of miserable. And it only got worse when Azzi's eyes flew open to see Paige sporting a UCONN volleyball shirt, no doubt from the girl she'd fucked last night over Azzi. 

And then they'd fought. Azzi was uncharacteristically mean, words biting at Paige's every movement. She could tell Paige was confused, but when Azzi pointed out what she was wearing, everything seemed to click into place. Paige apologized, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, because—very clearly—Azzi wasn't enough for her. 

Azzi didn't tell her that, of course. Instead, she'd ended it. Just like that. 

And they haven't spoken since.

Until now. 

"Why not, Azzi?" Paige demands again, voice raising slightly as her breath fans against Azzi's face. 

Azzi takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the alcohol and her words pressing hard against her chest. "Because I can't keep doing this, Paige! I can't keep pretending that it doesn't hurt every time I see you with someone else! I can't keep acting like it's okay to be your best friend who you casually fuck when I'm in love with you!"

Paige's eyes widens, but Azzi presses on, the words tumbling out of her in a rush. "Yes, I've been in love with you for years, Paige. And every time you're with someone else, it hurts. I thought I could handle it, but I can't. I thought that maybe, when I came here, things would change. That we'd stop seeing other people, that we could be together for real. But I was wrong. Clearly, I'm not enough for you. And it fucking kills me. I can't keep watching you with other girls and pretending it doesn't hurt. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with just being your friend. Because I'm not. I want to be everything to you, and it hurts that I'm not. And it hurts even more that I know you don't want me to."

Paige stands there, speechless, her eyes wide with shock. As she stares, Azzi realizes exactly what she's done. She's just spilled all of her well-kept secrets and feelings, and it makes her feel sick. She is going to be sick. 

"You're in love with me?" Paige asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Before Azzi can answer, she feels the familiar bout of nausea rise up. She rushes into one of the stalls, puking into the toilet, all the drinks from the night spilling from her guts. Almost immediately, Paige is right behind her, holding her hair back, ever the best friend. 

When Azzi is done, there's a long, quiet moment. The reality of what she's just confessed hangs heavily in the air. She doesn't know whether to cry or scream or run away. Maybe all three. 

Maybe none.

"You need water, and some carbs, too," Paige murmurs softly, voice gentle as she swipes a hand through Azzi's hair in an attempt to comfort her. 

Azzi doesn't say a word, too drained and emotionally spent to respond. She lets Paige help her up, and together, they leave Ted's, Paige's steady hand on her back as they exit the bar. Azzi's body trembles with the aftereffects of alcohol and the intense outpouring of emotions. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling utterly drained. Paige tries to guide her, but Azzi steps away, keeping her distance, needing space.

Azzi follows Paige's lead in the night air, walking alongside her. It's cool outside, helping to clear her head a little. They walk in silence, the only sounds the occasional car passing by and their footsteps on the pavement. Paige stays close, but Azzi can feel the tension between them, an invisible barrier that she can't bring herself to cross.

Eventually, they arrive at a small diner. The neon sign buzzes softly, casting a warm glow over the entrance. Paige holds the door open, and Azzi steps inside, the smell of greasy food and coffee hitting her immediately. It's oddly comforting.

They find a booth near the back, away from the few other patrons scattered around. Azzi slides into the seat, her body feeling heavy and sluggish. Paige sits across from her, and for a moment, they just look at each other, the weight of the night hanging between them.

When the waitress comes over, Paige orders for both of them, getting burgers and waters. Azzi doesn't have the energy to object. She just needs something to settle her stomach and clear her head.

As they wait, Azzi stares at the table, tracing patterns in the worn Formica surface. Her mind is a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, the confession she made to Paige replaying over and over again. She feels raw, exposed, and utterly vulnerable. She hates it. 

At one point, she glances up and catches Paige staring at her, her expression a mix of concern and something softer, something that makes Azzi's heart ache. Paige's lips part, and she murmurs, her voice barely audible, "Azzi—"

"Don't," Azzi interrupts firmly, her voice trembling slightly. "Please, just don't."

Paige's face falls, but she nods, looking down at her hands. The silence between them stretches out, heavy and oppressive. All Azzi knows is that she can't bear to hear whatever Paige has to say. She doesn't want to know if it's pity, regret, or something else. She isn't ready for any of it.

The waitress brings their food, and Azzi takes a bite of her burger, the familiar taste grounding her somewhat. She sips her water, feeling the cool liquid soothe her throat. Paige eats in silence as well, and Azzi occasionally catches her glancing up to watch her, though never saying a word. 

As they eat, Azzi's mind trails back to their time together, the stolen moments and secret kisses. She thinks about the mornings spent tangled in each other's arms, the way Paige's touch made her feel alive and cherished. But those moments were always fleeting, overshadowed by the reality of their situation. They were never truly together, just best friends who blurred the lines and hurt each other in the process.

Azzi's chest tightens as she reminds herself about all the girls Paige has been with, the countless nights spent in other beds. It hurts to think about, to know that she isn't enough for Paige, that she can't be the one to make her stay. The jealousy and pain are like a constant thorn in her side, a reminder of everything she wants but can't have.

She sneaks a glance at the blonde, who picks at her food, lost in thought. Azzi wonders if Paige feels the same, if there's any part of her that wants more, that feels the same ache and longing. She thinks there has to be. There have been too many moments that seem so domestic, so intimate that some corner of Paige's heart has to feel something other than friendship with Azzi. But she can't bring herself to ask. Not now, not when everything feels so raw, like a fresh wound.

The rest of the meal passes in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. When they finish, it's Paige that pays the bill. And then they leave the diner, stepping back into the cool night air. Azzi still keeps her distance, heart heavy.

When they reach Azzi's apartment, she fumbles with her keys, the silence stretching unbearably. She opens the door and steps inside, ready to close it behind her. But then Paige's small voice halts her movements and she pauses. 

"Azzi?"

Azzi turns, and she feels her heart clench at the sight of Paige, eyes filled with unshed tears. Azzi stands there, unable to speak, her breath catching in her throat.

Paige takes a hesitant step forward, her voice trembling. It's very un-Paige-like. "Can I say something? Please?"

Azzi nods, throat tight. She can't refuse Paige anything, not when she looks so vulnerable.

She watches as Paige takes a deep breath, before her words begin spilling out in a rush. "I'm so sorry, Azzi. For all the other girls, for everything. If I'd known how you felt, I never would have done any of it. I was scared. Scared of how strong my feelings are for you, scared of what it would mean for us. We're so young, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship and everything we have. And even if it didn't ruin things, I was scared that one day it would all fall apart. My parents divorced, my mom and dad both divorced from my step-parents... I don't know how to believe in something lasting."

Paige's voice breaks, and she wipes at her eyes. "But, Azzi, even though I'm scared, I want to try. If you still want to, I want to try. Because I'm in love with you, too. So fucking in love with you. And I have been since I met you at those basketball trials. You were so perfect and beautiful and it's like as soon as you told me your name, I knew I was a goner."

Azzi's breath hitches, and she feels wetness on her cheeks from tears she doesn't register shedding. Paige's words cut through her defenses, melting the walls she's built around her heart. This is Paige, her Paige, standing there with her heart in her hands.

Without thinking, Azzi reaches out, pulling Paige inside and kissing her hard. Paige responds immediately, her arms wrapping around Azzi's waist, pulling her closer. The kiss is fierce, desperate, and full of all the emotions they've kept bottled up for so long.

In between kisses, Paige murmurs against Azzi's lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Azzi giggles and her heart feels like bursting. Finally.

V. APRIL 2022

Considering everything they’ve gone through after all this time, it’s a little odd that this is their first real date.

Paige can’t help but smile as she watches Azzi get ready in their hotel room. The sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Azzi’s face. It’s nice to have a moment together without all the stress of the past month. No basketball, no fans, no pressure—just them.

Paige has been planning this date for weeks, determined to make it perfect. She wants nothing more than to create a memory that’ll belong to just the two of them, something that’ll mark the beginning of their new chapter. Sure, it’s a little bittersweet that it came the day after losing the national championship, but maybe that’s fitting. Paige knows they can both use a little joy after the disappointment.

“Ready?” she asks, grabbing her keys and their jackets.

Azzi nods, excitement and curiosity shining in her eyes. “Definitely. What’s the plan?”

Paige grins, her heart pounding. “It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll love it.”

They leave the hotel together, walking through the crisp air of Minneapolis. It’s a city that both of them are rather familiar with. However, Paige can tell as they continue walking that Azzi doesn’t know this particularly part that they’re in. It makes her glad; more of a surprise. 

Finally, they reach it. Paige stops walking, letting Azzi take in what they’re doing. They’re in front of a small, charming theater. The marquee reads: “Private Screening — Welcome, Paige and Azzi.”

“You rented out a theater?” Azzi asks, eyes widening in surprise. 

Paige nods, now a bit nervous that the moment is finally here. “Yeah. I thought it would be better to go somewhere where it could be just the two of us, no interruptions. No distractions.”

Azzi smiles, that smile that Paige will never be able to get enough of, and murmurs, “It’s perfect, P.” And then, she adds, as they enter the building, “What movie are we watching?”

Paige just shakes her head, letting that be a surprise, too. Besides, it shouldn’t be hard for Azzi to guess: they share the same favorite movie, after all. 

The staff greets the pair, leaving them to the theater they’re watching in. Paige anxiously watches Azzi’s face as they enter, wanting everything to be perfect. Inside, there’s blankets and snacks—and, on the screen, the opening credits of “Love & Basketball” begins to play. 

Azzi lets out a little laugh at that, muttering into the skin of Paige’s shoulder, “I should’ve known.” 

Paige grins down at the younger girl, glad she’s happy with what they’re doing. And, as they watch the movie that both of them can probably quote word-for-word, she continues stealing glances at the girl, her heart swelling with affection. Azzi looks completely at ease, her eyes glued to the screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. This movie had always been special to them, their favorite—and, after all, the first movie they ever watched together. 

As the movie continues, Paige’s thoughts drift. She lets herself think about the journey that had brought them here, the highs and lows, the moments of doubt and certainty. She thinks about the first time she realized she was in love with Azzi, the fear of ruining their friendship, the countless nights spent wondering what could be. She thinks about how she had been terrified at first, afraid of the intensity of her own feelings. But, eventually, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She was—she is—in love with Azzi, deeply and irrevocably. And, after Azzi had confessed her feelings that night in the bar, everything had changed.  

Paige reaches over, intertwining her fingers with Azzi’s. Azzi turns to her, eyes locking with Paige’s, nothing but deep, true love in them. Paige feels a rush of emotion at it, overwhelmed by the depth of her feelings. It’s nothing new; Azzi manages to make Paige feel like this every single day. 

“I love you,” Paige whispers, her voice barely audible over the movie’s dialogue.

Azzi’s eyes soften, and she leans in to kiss Paige gently. “I love you, too.”

Eventually, the movie ends and they leave the theater, going to get dinner. And, as the sky begins to darken and their date begins to end, Paige can’t help but think that she wants every first to be with Azzi, as well as every last. There’s no one else, and there will never be anyone else ever again. And, even if she’s getting ahead of herself, even if this is their first “real” date, Paige knows she wants to spend the rest of her life with Azzi. 

And she fucking plans to.

[serenityluvz]

Reaction to significant other saying "its not that big" ?

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – "Oh, you’re really asking for it now."

Heeseung raises a brow, mocking amusement dancing in his eyes. "Not too big, huh?" His voice is smooth, teasing—but you don’t miss the dark glint in his gaze. "You sure you wanna say that, baby?" He doesn’t even wait for a response before grabbing your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing his cock even deeper inside you. Your breath catches, fingers clawing at his shoulders. "Still think it’s not big enough?" he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. And when you can’t answer—when you can’t even breathe properly because of how deep he’s hitting—he chuckles. "That’s what I thought."

Jay – "Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby."

Jay smirks, tilting his head. You can see the challenge in his eyes. "You’re really gonna sit there and lie to me like that?" His fingers tighten around your hips before he thrusts up, slow but deep, filling you in one smooth motion. Your body jerks, and a breathy moan spills past your lips. Jay just chuckles. "What was that?" he taunts. "Didn’t sound like something a girl who thinks I’m ‘not too big’ would say." His pace picks up, rough and deliberate, dragging out every inch just to slam back in. "Come on, baby," he grins, kissing your jaw, biting your neck. "Say it again."

Jake – "That’s cute. Let’s test that theory."

Jake lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not too big?" he repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. "Alright then," he smirks, flipping you over onto your stomach. "Guess that means you can take all of it, huh?" Before you can react, he presses his chest against your back, sinking in deeper, pushing your legs apart until there’s no space left between you. You gasp, hands fisting the sheets. Jake just kisses your shoulder, mockingly sweet.

"You said it wasn’t too big," he whispers, rolling his hips, grinding against you. "Don’t tell me you were lying, baby."

Sunghoon – "Oh? We’ll see about that."

Sunghoon scoffs, running a hand through his hair, clearly amused but also a little offended. "Not too big?" he repeats, like he’s actually considering it. "Alright, baby. Let’s see if you can handle it then." Without warning, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, driving himself even deeper, stretching you open in a way that has you gasping. His lips curl into a smirk. "Yeah?" he taunts, watching the way your body shakes beneath him. "Still not big enough for you?" He picks up the pace, sharp and punishing, each thrust sending you higher and higher. You don’t even realize you’re moaning his name until he leans in, voice dripping with arrogance— "That’s what I thought."

Sunoo – "Aw, that’s adorable. Let’s fix that."

Sunoo quirks a brow, his lips curling into a sweet but dangerous smile. "Not too big?" he hums, tilting his head. "Then I guess I haven’t fucked you properly yet." His hands slide down your waist, gripping hard enough to make you gasp. Then, without warning—he slams into you, the sudden stretch stealing the breath from your lungs. "Shhh," he coos, mockingly soft. "You said it wasn’t too big, remember?" His fingers curl under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he picks up the pace. "Let’s see if you’re still saying that by the time I’m done with you, baby."

Jungwon – "Oh, baby. That was the wrong thing to say."

Jungwon clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Not too big?" he repeats, mock disappointment in his tone. "Alright," he breathes, leaning down, kissing the corner of your lips. "I’ll make sure you feel it then." His grip tightens around your waist before he pulls out slowly—almost too slow—then slams back in with one deep thrust. Your body arches off the bed, a gasp catching in your throat. Jungwon just chuckles, watching the way you squirm beneath him. "That’s better," he smirks. "Now, be a good girl and take it."

Ni-ki – "Oh, you’re so cute when you talk shit."

Ni-ki raises a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Not too big?" he echoes. "Bet." Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s manhandling you, pushing you onto all fours, gripping your hips as he rams into you in one deep thrust. Your arms give out instantly, face pressing into the pillows as a strangled moan rips from your throat. Niki laughs, low and cocky.

"Aw, what’s wrong?" he teases, rolling his hips slowly, grinding against your sweet spot. "You were talking real big just a second ago." His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back so he can murmur against your ear. "Still think I’m not big enough, baby?"

[mydeicakie]

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫ℐ𝒮：Mydei, a skilled and cocky boxer, thrives in the ring, dominating every match with his fierce confidence and precise strikes. Outside the ring, he’s just as confident, using his charm and arrogance to get what he wants. With his sharp wit and even sharper punches, he enjoys teasing and testing limits, savoring every reaction as he holds power both in and out of the ring. His smirk says it all: Mydei knows exactly how to keep control.

The air is thick with heat, sweat slick against your skin as Mydei stalks toward you, his movements slow-taunting. Every shift of his body is deliberate, muscles flexing beneath his bandages, his sharp eyes locked onto you like you're something to be conquered. His fists clench, the tape around his knuckles pulled tight, the smirk on his lips pure arrogance.

Then he strikes. A sudden feint, his heat rushing past you, his body pressing close-too close. His chest brushes yours, the scent of sweat and leather filling your lungs, his breath warm against your ear as he catches you off guard. You barely have a second to react before he's already pushing you back, lips curling when he sees the way your breath hitches.

He's on you in an instant, shoving you down, rough hands sliding up your thighs with an almost lazy confidence. He spreads you open like he owns you, licking his lips before dragging his mouth over your skin-slow, teasing, relentless.

His tongue presses against you, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling in his throat as he tastes you, like he's savoring every second.

His grip tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his pace unrelenting, his tongue stroking, teasing, devouring. The heat coils inside you, sharp and unbearable, his name slipping from your lips like a plea-one he's more than happy to answer.

Mydei pulls back just slightly, his hooked nose brushing against your skin as he exhales a slow, deliberate breath. His smirk is infuriating-sharp, arrogant, the kind that makes it clear he knows exactly what he's doing. His golden eyes flick up to meet yours, dark with amusement, lips glistening as he licks them lazily, dragging out the moment just to watch you squirm.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice deep, teasing. "Haven't even touched you properly yet, and you're already shaking." He tilts his head slightly, his hooked nose casting a shadow against your skin as he watches you, savoring every tiny reaction. "What? That desperate for me?"

His fingers press into your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles like he has all the time in the world. He chuckles, low and smug, before leaning back in, his lips barely brushing over you-just enough to tease, to make your breath hitch before he pulls away again, enjoying the way you react.

"Tsk. So impatient," he muses, shaking his head. "But you know me I like to take my time. Watch you fall apart bit by bit." His smirk widens, sharp and knowing. "Besides... it's cute when you beg."

Then, without warning, he finally gives in, his mouth pressing against you with slow, devastating precision. His grip tightens as he works you over with calculated arrogance, like he knows exactly how to unravel you. Every stroke of his tongue is deliberate, every muffled groan against your skin making it clear—he's enjoying this just as much as you are. Maybe more.

He pauses just long enough to look up at you, eyes gleaming with something dark, something hungry. “Think you can handle a little more?" His voice is cocky, challenging-like he already knows the answer. And before you can even catch your breath, he's right back where he started, dragging you under all over again.

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