#To not letting it happen and shutting it down REAL quick

[itdontmatter283472374]

What are we? Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Ok, quick side note, Mother's Day was literal hell at work, so I am kinda burnt out right now. Also, don't be surprised if I low-key make a one-shot or start another story. I have plans for this, but I am getting a little tired of it, and I know y'all want smut, but it might not be happening for a while for this series, so yeah.

BREAKING: ESPN HEADLINE – “UConn’s Paige Bueckers Suffers ACL Tear During Pickup Game on Campus”

The notification hit phones like a gut punch just before noon: Paige Bueckers, UConn’s standout guard and a face of women’s basketball, had gone down during an informal scrimmage in the practice gym. No game lights. No crowd. Just a handful of teammates and the sickening sound of something tearing mid-step.

Silence followed. Then panic.

She was rushed to the emergency room not long after, her arm slung around a trainer’s shoulder, crutches waiting for her when she arrived. Her face was pale and tight with pain—the kind that doesn’t show up on a scoreboard but still changes everything.

The hours that followed blurred together. X-rays. MRIs. A too-quiet room and a diagnosis she already half knew. Complete tear. ACL. Surgery within the week. Minimum a year before she’d see the court again.

Paige didn’t cry when the words landed. Not when the doctor sighed through the prognosis, not when her mom arrived wide-eyed and frantic, not when the nurse handed her a thick folder labeled “Post-Op: ACL Reconstruction & Rehab.”

But in the hallway outside radiology, where no one was looking, she pulled her hoodie over her head and let the tears fall. Fast. Hot. Quiet.

Back in her dorm, her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—messages pouring in from teammates, coaches, journalists, distant friends. She ignored them all.

All but one.

Incoming FaceTime: Azzi💗

Paige stared at the screen for a beat, wiped at her face, then answered.

Azzi’s face filled the frame, framed in soft lamplight from her room back home. She looked like she hadn’t moved in hours—eyes puffy, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, like speaking might make it worse. Finally, she gave a small, tight nod.

Azzi’s voice dropped. “What happened? Are you…?”

“It’s torn,” Paige whispered. “Completely.”

Azzi flinched like she’d been hit. Her hand came up to her mouth.

“God, Paige…”

“It wasn’t even a bad move. I just… stepped. It popped. Like that.” Paige snapped her fingers. The sound made her blink hard.

Azzi breathed out slow. “Where are you now?”

“Still at the hospital. They’re gonna discharge me soon.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was thick, alive with everything neither of them could say just yet. Azzi shifted on the couch, eyes locked on Paige’s face.

“I should be there,” she said suddenly. “I should be with you.”

“You are with me,” Paige murmured. “This helps. Really.”

Azzi shook her head. “I’m coming. I’ll change my flight. Be there tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she said, firm this time.

Paige exhaled, eyes slipping shut for a beat. “I was just starting to feel like everything was clicking, you know? Us. Ball. Life.”

Azzi’s voice cracked just slightly. “It still is. This doesn’t change that.”

For a moment, Paige just watched her through the screen like she could reach through it and feel Azzi’s steadiness for real.

And in a day full of fractures and free falls, that was the first thing that felt solid.

--------------------------

​​The next afternoon, Paige was exactly where Azzi expected to find her: curled up in bed, hoodie pulled over her head, blinds half-closed, TV flickering in the background but not really being watched.

The room smelled faintly of Icy Hot and frustration.

Azzi didn’t knock—just walked in with her duffel slung over her shoulder and a quiet sigh.

“I figured this is where I’d find you,” she said, setting her bag down and crossing to the bed.

Paige peeked out from under the hoodie. “Hi.”

“You look like a haunted blanket.”

“I feel like one,” Paige muttered.

Azzi didn’t smile. She sat at the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Paige’s shin, careful not to touch the brace. “You’ve been in this room since you got back?”

Paige shrugged.

Azzi stood. “Alright. Get up.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“We’re going to get ice cream.”

Paige groaned and rolled over, burying her face again. “Azzi, no. I’m not in the mood. I look like I lost a fight with a robot knee.”

“You kind of did,” Azzi deadpanned. “Still not an excuse.”

Paige’s voice was muffled. “I’m in sweats. I haven’t washed my hair. I’m—”

“Nope,” Azzi cut in, already pulling open Paige’s drawer for a clean t-shirt. “You can sulk after your surgery. Your Stepmom and Dad and Drew will be here in two days. You’ll be doped up, stitched together, and sore as hell. That’s your sulking window. This? This is pre-sulk. You get ice cream during pre-sulk.”

Paige lifted her head just enough to squint at her. “Is that an actual medical term?”

Azzi tossed the t-shirt at her. “Get changed. I’m driving. And yes, it’s medically backed by the Azzi Fudd Protocol for Temporary Joy and Controlled Wallowing.”

Paige couldn’t help it—she smiled, just a little. “You’re annoying.”

“Yup. And exactly what you need.”

A few minutes later, they were out the door—Paige slowly, carefully, Azzi at her side without hovering too much. It was hot outside again, and the walk to the car took longer than usual, but Paige didn’t complain.

Not once.

And when they finally got their cones—Paige’s favorite, cookie dough with rainbow sprinkles, and Azzi’s classic chocolate soft serve—the world didn’t feel fixed, exactly.

But it didn’t feel broken beyond repair either.

Paige leaned back in the passenger seat, cone half-melted, and looked over at Azzi.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Azzi looked over. “For what?”

“For getting me up.”

Azzi bumped her shoulder gently. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky by the time they pulled away from the ice cream shop, painting the world in that soft, honey-gold August light. The kind of heat that didn’t press so hard anymore, just lingered like a memory.

Azzi had the windows halfway down, the breeze rolling in warm and slow. Her curls fluttered against her cheeks, and the air smelled like cut grass and pavement.

Paige had her seat reclined just enough, her brace propped awkwardly against the dashboard, cone in one hand, the other lazily out the window. Her hair was tied back, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows, looking worn out but a little more herself.

SZA played low through the speakers—"Good Days" drifting through the car like it had been waiting for this exact drive. Neither of them talked. They didn’t need to.

They just vibed.

The kind of quiet that didn’t ask for anything. That made space for the ache, the healing, the pieces still in the process of rearranging.

Azzi drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, nodding softly to the beat, eyes on the road ahead. Paige glanced over at her, and for a moment, she wasn’t thinking about surgery, or recovery, or the months she’d be stuck watching from the sidelines.

She was just here.

In this car.

With her.

Late summer sun dancing through the trees, SZA humming about trying to be present, and Azzi—steady, calm, there.

“I missed this,” Paige said, voice barely above the music.

Azzi looked over, smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi reached out and gently laced their fingers together over the center console. Still watching the road, still driving, but grounding them both in something wordless and warm.

They didn’t say anything else for a while.

They just let the music carry them home.

----------------------

The hotel room was dim, the curtains half-drawn against the late afternoon sun. The air smelled faintly of takeout and antiseptic, and the soft clicking of an iPad game was the only thing filling the space.

Drew sat cross-legged on the floor, headphones on, zoned out in his own world. Paige’s dad and stepmom had just stepped out to grab food, leaving the room quiet except for the occasional grumble from the bed.

Paige was propped up on a mountain of pillows, her post-op brace elevated, eyes narrowed at the ceiling like it had personally offended her.

Azzi knocked once before slipping in quietly. She was in a crewneck and shorts, tote bag over her shoulder, and a soft look in her eyes the second she saw Paige’s face.

“Hey, soldier,” she said gently, dropping the bag by the door. “How’s our fearless leader?”

Paige let out a grunt. “Our fearless leader wants to throw her leg into a lake.”

Azzi chuckled and crossed the room, settling on the edge of the bed. “You’d sink like a rock with that brace.”

“I’d take sinking over this pain.”

Azzi gave her a sympathetic look and nudged her lightly. “You look like a grumpy burrito.”

“I feel like a grumpy burrito.”

There was a short silence. Azzi tilted her head.

“You want a back rub?”

Paige blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

Azzi nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. Might help. Or at least distract you from the stabbing pain in your leg.”

Paige hesitated, then gave a sheepish little nod. “Okay… yeah. That actually sounds nice.”

“Alright. Scoot down, grumpy.”

Paige winced as she shifted, slowly lowering herself onto her stomach with a grimace. She moved carefully, breath catching every time she adjusted her brace or tugged at her pillow. Once she finally got there, she let her head drop into her arms with a sigh.

Azzi sat open-legged behind her and started rubbing gentle circles into her back—firm enough to loosen the tension, soft enough not to jostle anything too much.

“God, your hands are magic,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

“I know.”

The room was quiet again, except for Drew’s game. Paige’s shoulders started to loosen. Her breathing slowed a little.

After a few minutes, Azzi let her fingers trail up into Paige’s hair, scratching gently at her scalp the way she knew Paige liked.

And sure enough, not long after, Paige let out a small sigh… and fell completely asleep in Azzi’s lap.

Azzi looked down at her—mouth slightly open, a little bit of drool threatening the hotel pillow—and couldn’t help the grin that pulled across her face.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, angled it just right, and snapped a picture of Paige knocked out cold in the most dramatic, snuggly way possible.

📸 Sent to Team Group Chat

Azzi: mother has passed out after 3 minutes of attention 🙄 [photo attachment]

Nika: AWWWWW LOOK AT THIS BIG BABY Aaliyah: not her needing cuddles to survive 😭😭 Caroline✂️: someone make this the team poster Nika: we need this printed and framed for the locker room Azzi: no one is safe in this group chat Aaliyah: tell her when she wakes up she still owes me $5 from the Waffle House bet

Azzi shook her head, still smiling, and gently pulled the blanket up over Paige’s shoulders. Paige stirred just slightly, then relaxed again, face nuzzled deeper into Azzi’s leg.

And for the first time all week, everything felt a little lighter.

--------------------

Later That Evening – Hotel Room

The room was suddenly full of noise, laughter, and limbs. Someone had propped open the door with a sneaker, and now the entire squad was crammed inside like it was a dorm lounge, not a midsize hotel suite.

Caroline had brought snacks. Aaliyah had brought board games no one was going to play. Aubrey was already perched on the windowsill eating half a bag of popcorn. Nika walked in like she owned the place, flopped onto the edge of Paige’s bed, and dramatically fluffed the pillows behind her.

Paige, still stiff and sore from surgery but in a noticeably better mood, had on fresh sweats and her leg propped up like a queen holding court. Drew sat on the floor in front of the TV, only halfway interested in the new crowd.

“I feel like a zoo animal,” Paige said, grinning despite herself.

“You are a zoo animal,” Nika replied. “You’ve been on the injured list for less than a week and already everyone’s babying you.”

“She just had surgery,” Caroline pointed out, offering Paige a gummy worm from a massive bag.

“She also fell asleep in Azzi’s lap like a toddler,” Nika said with a wicked little smirk.

Paige blinked. “Wait. What?”

The room paused. Aaliyah coughed into her fist. Aubrey made a sound like a tea kettle trying not to boil over.

“Oh no,” Caroline muttered under her breath.

“What do you mean?” Paige asked, eyes narrowing.

“Ohhhh no no no,” Nika said gleefully, already pulling out her phone. “I forgot you didn’t see it—hold up, I got you.”

“See what?”

Aubrey scooted over and handed Paige her phone instead, screen already pulled up.

On it: a photo of Paige completely knocked out, face smushed into a pillow, drooling slightly, laying across Azzi’s lap like a very cozy, very unconscious golden retriever.

There was a beat of total silence.

Paige’s face slowly turned toward the back corner of the room.

Azzi was standing there by the door, sipping a LaCroix and very much not making eye contact.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “You took that?”

Azzi just smiled—mischievous, innocent, entirely unapologetic. “You looked peaceful.”

“You sent it to the group chat.”

“I shared a moment,” Azzi replied, suppressing a laugh. “A vulnerable, adorable moment.”

Everyone erupted with laughter.

“Don’t worry,” Aaliyah said, patting Paige’s shoulder. “We only roasted you for, like, fifteen minutes.”

“Seventeen,” Nika corrected. “And I do want to print it.”

“You people are lucky I can’t walk without a crutch,” Paige muttered, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

Azzi raised her can. “To cuddles and chaos.”

And somehow, in the middle of pain meds, group chat slander, and a dozen bodies squeezed into one too-small hotel room, Paige felt more like herself than she had in days.

Eventually, the chaos had to end.

The team slowly started gathering their things—empty snack bags stuffed into the trash, shoes pulled back on, phones buzzing with texts from group chats and coaches.

“Alright, we’re outta here before we all get kicked out by hotel security,” Nika said, stretching like she’d just run a marathon. “Later, Patient Zero.”

Aaliyah leaned down and hugged Paige gently around the shoulders. “Rest up. I better see you on crutches courtside by next week. You’re not skipping film sessions just ‘cause you’ve got a robot leg.”

Caroline waved from the door. “We’ll bring real food next time.”

Aubrey gave Paige a fist bump. “You were kind of cute drooling, not gonna lie.”

“Get out of my room,” Paige groaned, laughing despite herself.

One by one, they filed out, calling goodbyes over their shoulders. Azzi lingered behind, near the TV where Drew was still posted up with his iPad, legs swinging idly off the edge of the bed.

She crouched beside him. “Hey, Drew.”

He looked up, headphones around his neck now. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for hanging out tonight. You kept the vibes chill.”

Drew gave her a lopsided smile. “Paige always gets grumpy when she’s hurt. You made her less grumpy.”

Azzi grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. G’night, bud.”

“Night.”

She stood, crossed the room to where Paige was reclined in bed, already looking sleepier than she probably wanted to admit. Her hair was messy, a heating pad resting across her shoulders, eyes heavy with pain meds and exhaustion.

Azzi leaned in close, lowering her voice just for her.

“We’ll get through this.”

Paige met her gaze, eyes soft. “Promise?”

Azzi brushed a hand gently against Paige’s cheek, then pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Promise.”

Paige didn’t say anything else—just let her eyes fall closed, mouth relaxed, her whole body finally starting to let go.

Azzi pulled the blanket a little higher, then quietly slipped out the door.

The highway was quiet, the sky above streaked in purple and deep blue. Azzi’s phone was on speaker, resting in the passenger seat, connected to the car’s Bluetooth.

Caroline’s voice crackled through the speakers. “She looked good tonight. For, you know… being post-op and mildly drugged.”

Azzi kept one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with a ring on her thumb. “She’s holding it together in front of everyone. But when it’s just us? It’s hitting her hard.”

“Yeah. Figured.”

“She hasn’t said it out loud, not really,” Azzi continued, voice soft. “But I can tell. She’s scared. Angry. All of it.”

Caroline was quiet for a second. “She’ll get through it.”

“I know. But she’s not great at letting people carry stuff for her.”

“You’re there,” Caroline said. “That counts for more than you think.”

Azzi glanced out the window at the blur of streetlights. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing everything right.”

The silence that followed was easy. Comfortable.

And somewhere, behind her, Paige was asleep in a too-firm hotel bed, with her team, her family, and Azzi holding down the edges of her world.

-----------------------

The Chipotle line was long, as usual. The smell of grilled chicken and cilantro rice filled the air, and Paige had her crutches tucked under one arm while she waited for her burrito bowl, wearing UConn warmups like she was still suiting up.

Azzi stood beside her, scanning the menu she already had memorized, hoodie pulled up halfway over her head.

“You nervous?” Paige asked, bumping her gently with her elbow.

Azzi exhaled through her nose. “Not really nervous. Just… focused.”

Paige gave her a knowing side-eye. “You always say that when you’re nervous.”

Azzi didn’t deny it. She just shrugged.

“Hey,” Paige said, her voice softening. “You’ve been killing it. You’ve stepped up in every way this season. Today’s just another day to show people what we already know.”

Azzi glanced over. “You mean what you know.”

“I mean what we all know. You’ve got this. You just gotta stop waiting for permission to lead.”

Azzi blinked at that, letting it land.

“I’m trying,” she said after a beat. “Trying to believe I belong in that role. That I’m not just holding the space for you while you’re out.”

Paige leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You’re not holding space, Az. You’re owning it. And I’m proud of you.”

Before Azzi could answer, a voice cut in from behind them.

“Excuse me? Are you… Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers?”

They both turned to see a teenage girl in a Huskies hoodie and her mom behind her, holding a phone.

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“Could I maybe… get a picture with you? I’m a huge fan.”

“Of course,” Paige said instantly.

Azzi leaned down, smiling as the girl beamed between them. The mom snapped the photo, thanked them about three times, and they waved goodbye as the two walked off.

Back in line, Azzi glanced at Paige. “I never know what to do with my hands in pictures.”

“You looked fine. I was the one holding crutches like a confused flamingo.”

They grabbed their food and headed out to the car, the mood still light. Once inside, Azzi started driving, weaving them out of the parking lot and toward the arena.

Silence settled for a few moments, the kind of comfortable pause that always existed between them. Then Paige spoke up again.

“You know, you lead even when you don’t try. People trust you because of how you move. How you care.”

Azzi kept her eyes on the road, fingers tightening slightly on the wheel.

“I just don’t wanna fake it,” she said quietly. “I want it to be real. Earned.”

“It is,” Paige said. “Every second of it. You’re not stepping into my shoes. You’re walking in your own.”

Azzi smiled a little. “You’re getting really good at this motivational speech stuff.”

“Yeah, well,” Paige grinned. “Not being able to play leaves a lot of time for monologues.”

They turned into the arena lot, security waving them through. Azzi pulled into their usual spot, put the car in park, and took a breath.

“You’re ready,” Paige said again, voice steady.

Azzi nodded, grabbed her gym bag from the back seat, and turned to her.

“Let’s go win a game.”

The arena was buzzing with the kind of electricity only gameday could bring. The air was thick with anticipation as fans packed into the stands, the Huskies' bench a hub of activity, and the announcer's voice echoing over the speakers as the teams took the court. Azzi stepped out onto the floor with a quiet focus, her eyes scanning the crowd, the noise, the movement — it was all part of the rhythm now. Her nerves were gone, replaced by that familiar adrenaline.

Paige, sitting courtside with her crutches, gave her a reassuring nod from the sidelines, her presence like a quiet anchor in the chaos.

The ball tipped off, and from the get-go, Azzi was a force. Every possession, she attacked with precision and poise, moving with a fluidity that looked effortless, but beneath it all was the drive of someone who had spent every waking moment preparing for this.

By halftime, she had already racked up 16 points — a mix of smooth jump shots, aggressive drives to the basket, and some slick passing to keep the defense guessing. She was pulling off moves that had the crowd on their feet, cheering louder with every made shot.

Lou was on fire as well, working with Azzi like a well-oiled machine, creating space, knocking down threes, and finishing strong under the basket. She added 17 points to the board, her energy contagious as she sprinted up and down the court, pushing the tempo and making Northeastern’s defense scramble.

Aaliyah wasn’t far behind, showing off her quick thinking and athleticism. With 14 points, she was crucial in keeping the game out of reach for Northeastern, hitting timely shots, and dishing out assists like a true floor general.

Azzi’s highlight of the game came in the third quarter. With just under five minutes left, she pulled off a steal on the perimeter, sprinted down the court, and finished with a fast-break layup that had the crowd roaring. It was an exclamation point on an already incredible game, showing just how much she was able to take control of the tempo.

On the defensive end, she wasn’t slowing down either. Her anticipation for steals was uncanny, getting in passing lanes and forcing turnovers. By the fourth quarter, Northeastern’s offense had no answers for her. Every time they thought they had a rhythm, Azzi was there to disrupt it.

The final buzzer sounded, and the scoreboard read UConn 85, Northeastern 67.

Azzi finished with an impressive 26 points — a career-high for her, while Lou and Aaliyah combined for a solid 31 between them. The win felt good, but it wasn’t just the points or the victory that stood out. It was the way they had come together as a team, with Azzi stepping up and showing the world just how much she had grown into the role of leader.

On the sidelines, Paige was grinning, her eyes locked on Azzi, proud and beaming as she watched her teammate shine.

Azzi jogged off the court, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, high-fiving teammates and coaches as they congratulated her. When she finally made her way over to the bench, Paige gave a pat on the butt.

"You killed it," Paige said, her voice a mix of admiration and pride.

Azzi laughed, breathless but glowing. “Couldn’t have done it without Lou and Aaliyah.”

"Still, you led us," Paige said, her voice carrying that quiet reverence that Azzi was just starting to get used to.

“Yeah,” Azzi grinned, feeling the weight of the moment. “Feels pretty damn good.”

----------------------------------

The local bar, Ted’s, was buzzing with energy. Music pulsed through the speakers, and the familiar chatter of UConn students filled the space. The team had claimed their victory, and now it was time to let loose and enjoy the night. The table was surrounded by smiling faces, a mix of teammates and friends, each of them still riding the high of the game.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, one hand wrapped around her drink, and the other resting on the table. Paige was seated beside her, as always, her crutches leaning against the booth as she sat with a grin that could have lit up the whole place.

"26 points, Azzi!" Caroline said, raising her glass in a toast. "You were on fire tonight!"

Azzi laughed, a little embarrassed by all the attention. "Thanks, but it’s not just me. We all killed it."

"Yeah, well, you were the one putting them in the basket," Paige teased, nudging her. "Don’t be humble, you earned it."

Azzi smiled at her, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes as she glanced at Paige. "You good with those crutches? Need any help?"

Paige rolled her eyes but laughed. "Chill, Az. I’m good. I’m off these crutches in a week anyway."

"You sure?" Azzi pressed, still looking concerned. "You know I’ve got your back, right?"

Paige reached out, squeezing Azzi’s hand. "I know. I’m fine. Tonight’s about you. Have fun. Don’t worry about me."

Caroline raised her drink again. "She’s right! You deserve this, Azzi. You’ve been putting in the work. It’s your night to shine."

Azzi felt her face warm. "Alright, alright," she relented, shaking her head. "I’ll try to enjoy myself."

The group kept celebrating, chatting, and laughing, the table overflowing with pitchers of beer and shared plates of fries and wings. But as the night went on, Azzi couldn’t fully shake the feeling that she needed to keep an eye on Paige. She kept glancing at her, making sure the crutches weren’t too much of a hassle, that she wasn’t pushing herself too hard.

"I’m serious, Azzi," Paige said, catching her looking again. "Chill out. You’re making me feel like I’m 90 or something. I can take care of myself."

Azzi just nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to let go of the concern. The celebration was about the team, the victory, the bond they had built.

But before long, the mood shifted. Nika, always the wild card, was laughing loudly at something Aaliyah had said when her face suddenly went pale. She put her hand over her mouth and excused herself from the table.

"Uh-oh," Lou said, narrowing her eyes. "Nika’s about to lose it."

Azzi's eyes darted to Nika, who was now heading toward the bathroom, looking like she was about to puke.

"Great," Azzi muttered, getting up from the table. "I'll go check on her."

As Azzi made her way to the bathroom, she heard Nika’s voice groaning from the inside. "I can’t believe I’m doing this… again."

Azzi knocked gently on the door. "Nika? You okay?"

A muffled response came. "I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute."

Azzi waited outside, glancing back to the table where the rest of the team was still laughing and enjoying the night. But her mind was on Nika, and on making sure she was okay. After a few minutes, the door finally opened, and Nika stepped out, looking a little green but otherwise okay.

"Alright, let's get you home," Azzi said, wrapping an arm around Nika to help steady her.

The rest of the team continued celebrating at the table, but Azzi was focused on getting Nika back to her dorm. As they made their way toward the door, Azzi spotted Paige, who was still seated, grinning up at her.

"You good?" Paige asked, noticing the way Azzi was hovering around Nika.

"Yeah, just making sure Nika doesn’t faceplant in the parking lot," Azzi replied, trying to keep her tone light.

"Take care of her," Paige said with a wink. "I’ll be fine."

Azzi gave her a quick nod and then headed out with Nika. They made their way across campus, walking slowly since Nika was still a little unsteady. Nika leaned into Azzi as they walked, resting her head on her shoulder.

"I should never drink again," Nika muttered, and Azzi couldn’t help but laugh.

"You say that every time," Azzi teased. "And yet, here we are."

When they reached Nika's apartment, Azzi helped her inside, making sure she got to her room safely. As they walked up the stairs, Azzi spotted a familiar door — Paige’s room.

Azzi paused for a second, glancing at Nika. "You good here? Need anything?"

Nika waved her off, already heading for her bed. "I’m good. Thanks for the rescue."

Azzi stepped into the cozy living space that Paige and Nika shared. The place had the usual college dorm vibe—messy but lived-in, with half-packed bags from the earlier game and leftover pizza boxes scattered around. The walls were covered with posters, pictures, and a few random mementos from their last tournament.

Azzi took a deep breath, glad the night had ended on a high note despite the chaos. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on Nika, who was trying to balance herself on the couch after the late-night drinking fiasco.

“Hey, I got her home safe,” Azzi said with a smile. "She’s fine now."

Lou, who had been helping Nika, shot her a knowing look. "Yeah, but someone is going to pay for this tomorrow," Lou teased, glancing at Nika. “I’ll leave you two alone, though. I’ve got plans.”

Azzi chuckled as Lou waved goodbye, stepping out the door. It didn’t take long for Paige to shuffle into the living room, leaning on Lou for support.

“Thanks, Lou. I’ll text you tomorrow,” Paige said as Lou headed out, then turned toward Azzi with a tired smile. "Hey, you made it."

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige. “You okay? You look like you just walked through a battle zone.”

Paige gave a tired shrug. “I’ll be alright. Can’t believe I’m still on these crutches.”

“Yeah, but you’re about to be back on your feet in no time,” Azzi reassured, walking over to Paige and gently taking the crutches from her. “You good to get to your room?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage,” Paige said, though it was clear she wasn’t completely sure. With a little help from Azzi, she carefully made her way down the hall, leaning against the wall for balance.

Once in the room, Paige turned to Azzi with a mischievous grin. “So, you want to spend the night? I mean, we could make it a real victory night.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at how casual Paige was. “Sure, why not?”

They both changed into comfy PJs—Azzi opting for oversized sweats and a UConn hoodie, while Paige slipped into a loose T-shirt and shorts. The room felt more relaxed, the energy lighter now that the game was behind them.

“Want to put on Love & Basketball?” Paige asked, tossing a glance at the TV. “It’s tradition.”

Azzi snorted. “Of course, big head,” she said, teasing.

Paige laughed, shooting her a side-eye. “Alright, alright. Look who’s getting a big head after their game tonight. I see how it is.”

Azzi put her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, you were telling me to brag more, so now I’m taking your advice. And let’s be real, the game was yours too.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a soft smile on her face as she made herself comfortable on the bed. "I know you scored, but you really did carry the team."

Azzi shrugged, settling beside her. “I’d say we carried each other. But I’m glad to finally get to brag a little bit. You should try it sometime.”

“I do brag," Paige teased, punching her lightly in the arm. "I just don't go around talking about it every two seconds."

They bantered back and forth as the movie started, the familiar lines of Love & Basketball filling the room. Paige slowly relaxed into the moment, her head resting on Azzi’s shoulder as they watched.

Before long, the conversation fizzled out. The combination of the movie, the warmth of the room, and Azzi’s gentle presence made Paige’s eyes grow heavy. She let out a quiet sigh, her breathing becoming slow and even.

Azzi noticed that Paige had fallen asleep with her head still resting on her shoulder, her hand lightly curled around Azzi’s arm. A small, affectionate smile tugged at Azzi’s lips as she looked down at Paige, clearly at ease in her arms.

Azzi shifted slightly, just enough to get comfortable, but she didn’t want to wake Paige. She closed her eyes too, letting the exhaustion from the game and the celebration seep in, allowing herself to drift off.

The sunlight streaming through the window was soft, and Azzi’s eyes fluttered open as she stirred, the bed feeling warmer than usual. She realized she had fallen asleep in the same position as Paige, who was now lightly snoring in her arms, curled against her.

A soft knock interrupted the quiet morning.

“Nika?” Azzi mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

There was no response, only the door creaking open slightly.

Nika’s head poked around the corner, a mischievous grin on her face. “Well, well, look who’s finally asleep.” She saw the two of them snuggled up and, with a knowing grin, quietly snapped a picture.

Azzi’s eyes snapped open when she heard the click of the camera. “Nika!” she hissed, sitting up quickly.

Nika just chuckled under her breath. “Don’t worry, big heads. I won’t send it to the team... yet.” She shook her head, clearly amused by what she saw, before she stepped back out of the room.

Azzi couldn’t help but smile as she heard Nika’s footsteps fade away. She glanced down at Paige, still asleep in her arms, and her heart softened. Maybe this was exactly what they both needed—time to rest, time to just be.

With a small sigh, Azzi settled back down, carefully pulling the blanket up over them both. It was a peaceful moment, one that felt like it could stretch on forever, but she knew reality would eventually break through.

For now, though, it was just them—Paige, Azzi, and a little piece of quiet.

[nubianqueensworld]

Chapter 4: The Fire Beneath

The room seemed to close in around them as Stack’s words hung heavy in the air. Monet tightened her fingers around the pendant hidden beneath her shirt, its warmth almost a comfort now. She could feel the weight of her situation pressing down, but she refused to let herself break. She had to think, to act. She couldn’t just drift along like a leaf in the wind.

“What do you mean by figuring out what the necklace ‘wants’?” Monet asked, her voice low but firm.

Stack leaned back in his chair, studying her like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “That thing didn’t just drop you here for fun, doll. Magic like that—if it’s real—doesn’t happen by accident. Either it’s got a purpose, or somebody does. You’ve gotta figure out which it is.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” she shot back. “It’s not like the damn thing came with an instruction manual.”

Stack smirked, though his eyes remained sharp. “Lucky for you, I know a guy.”

Monet arched an eyebrow. “You know a guy?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “That’s reassuring.”

“This ain’t amateur hour,” Stack said, the grin fading from his face. “You want answers? Then you play by my rules. And that starts with trustin’ me—at least a little.”

Monet exhaled slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. Trust wasn’t something that came easily to her, especially not in a situation like this. But the truth was, she didn’t have much of a choice. If Stack could help her uncover the secrets of the necklace—and maybe even find her way home—then she had to take the chance.

“Fine,” she said finally. “But if this goes sideways—”

“It won’t,” Stack cut in smoothly, rising from his chair. “Come on. Let’s go see the guy.”

Monet followed him reluctantly, her mind racing as they made their way down the creaking stairs and out into the cool night air. The streets of the town were quieter now, the buzz of the juke joint fading behind them as they walked. Stack moved with purpose, his long strides and unshakable confidence making it clear he knew this town like the back of his hand.

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Monet asked, breaking the silence.

“Name’s Elroy,” Stack replied. “He’s a bit... eccentric. But if anyone knows about strange things, it’s him.”

Monet frowned. “Strange things? That’s what we’re calling this now?”

Stack shot her a quick grin. “What would you call it?”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure how to describe what was happening to her—or the magic that seemed to pulse from the necklace with every step. Instead, she kept her eyes on the path ahead, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows over the quiet road.

They stopped in front of a small, unassuming house at the edge of town. The windows were dark, but faint wisps of smoke curled up from the chimney, suggesting someone was home. Stack knocked on the door twice, then waited.

After a moment, the door creaked open, and a man peered out. Elroy was older, his graying hair slick similar to Stack’s his sharp eyes flicked between Stack and Monet with unmistakable curiosity.

“Stack,” Elroy said, his voice gravelly. “You only show up when there’s trouble.”

“Good to see you too, old man,” Stack replied with a chuckle. “We need your help.”

Elroy’s gaze landed on Monet, narrowing slightly. “And who’s this?”

“This is Monet,” Stack said. “She’s got somethin’ I think you’ll want to see.”

Elroy stepped aside, waving them in. “Well, come on, then. Don’t just stand there.”

Monet followed Stack into the dimly lit house, her nerves twisting as Elroy shut the door behind them. The interior was cluttered but cozy, with books and trinkets piled on every available surface. A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the walls.

“So,” Elroy said, sinking into a worn armchair and eyeing them expectantly. “What’s this about?”

Monet hesitated, glancing at Stack for reassurance. He gave her a nod, and she reached for the necklace, pulling it out from beneath her shirt. The stone glowed faintly in the firelight, its warmth spreading through her hand as she held it up.

Elroy’s eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flickering across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “That’s no ordinary trinket, is it?”

Monet shook her head. “It... brought me here,” she said. “From the future.”

Elroy didn’t react the way she expected—no disbelief, no laughter. Instead, he leaned forward, his expression serious. “Tell me everything,” he said.

Over the next few minutes, Monet recounted everything that had happened—the funeral, the necklace, the sudden flash of light that had transported her here. Elroy listened intently, his brow furrowed as he processed her words.

When she finished, he sat back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the necklace. “That’s old magic,” he said finally. “Powerful, dangerous magic.”

Monet’s heart sank. “What kind of magic?”

Elroy met her gaze, his expression grim. “Time magic,” he said. “The kind that doesn’t just happen. Someone—or something—wants you here, girl. And they don’t want you leaving until you’ve done what they brought you here to do.”

Monet’s grip on the necklace tightened as the full weight of his words sank in. Whatever had brought her here, it wasn’t random. The necklace had a purpose, and until she uncovered it, she was trapped.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The pendant seemed to glow brighter in Monet’s hand as Elroy’s words sank in. Time magic. Dangerous. Purposeful. Her grandmother had always said the necklace was special, but this? This felt overwhelming, far bigger than anything she could have imagined.

“So, someone brought me here on purpose?” Monet asked, her voice tense. “Why? What do they want from me?”

Elroy leaned back in his chair, studying her with a look that was equal parts curiosity and concern. “Magic like this doesn’t move people without reason,” he said. “It’s tied to events, places, decisions. Whatever brought you here, girl, it’s connected to something this town’s wrapped up in. But finding the why? That’s the hard part.”

Stack folded his arms, his expression tight. “You mean she’s stuck here until she plays out whatever game this is?”

Elroy nodded. “Pretty much. The magic’s holding her tethered to this time—this place. And until it’s satisfied, she’s not going anywhere.”

Monet’s heart sank. “Satisfied? What does that even mean?”

Elroy tilted his head, his sharp eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Could mean a lotta things,” he said cryptically. “Magic’s a funny thing. Sometimes it needs you to learn something. Sometimes it wants you to change something. Or sometimes,” he added, his tone darkening, “it wants you to stop something.”

Monet shivered at the weight of his words. “Stop something? Like what?”

Elroy shrugged, his posture relaxed despite the gravity of the conversation. “That’s for you to figure out. But I’ll tell you this—time magic’s tricky. It doesn’t care what you want or what you fear. It’s gonna put you where it needs you, whether you’re ready or not.”

Stack glanced at Monet, his expression tense but composed. “So we figure out what it wants,” he said. “Fast.”

Elroy nodded. “That’d be wise,” he said. “Especially if Silas is sniffin’ around. That man doesn’t touch nothin’ without a reason.”

Monet swallowed hard, the warmth of the necklace a constant reminder of the strange power she carried. The idea that the necklace had a purpose—some hidden directive—made her stomach churn. But she couldn’t afford to crumble. Not here, not now.

“What do I do?” she asked quietly, her voice steadier than she expected.

Elroy leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “You listen,” he said simply. “To the necklace. To this place. To the people around you. Magic like this? It’ll give you clues. But you’ve gotta pay attention.”

Stack gave her a sharp nod. “That’s somethin’ I can help with,” he said. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s this town and its secrets.”

Elroy chuckled dryly, his eyes flicking to Stack. “And you ain’t afraid to twist those secrets when it suits you, huh?”

Stack smirked. “Gotta survive somehow.”

Monet watched the exchange, her mind racing. She didn’t trust the necklace, didn’t trust this magic that had uprooted her life and tossed her into a world she didn’t understand. But Stack and Elroy? As much as she hated to admit it, they might be the only allies she had.

“Alright,” she said finally, her voice firm. “Let’s figure this out.”

Elroy’s sharp grin widened. “That’s the spirit,” he said, rising from his chair. “I’ll do some digging. If there’s somethin’ about this necklace I’ve missed, I’ll find it.”

Stack nodded, his posture shifting into action mode. “And I’ll keep her safe. If Silas is lookin’ for her, we can’t afford to let her outta my sight.”

Monet exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation settling fully on her shoulders. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, or why the necklace had chosen her. But one thing was clear: she wasn’t leaving this town until she unraveled its secrets—and her own.

———————————————————————————

If you want to get added to the tag list let me know….next chapter is coming very, very soon ;)

Taglist: @marley1773

[imafirefly]

Though she doesn't utter back the words, it's the way she shyly smiles to herself that's a dead giveaway for how she feels in return. He knows and doesn't push for it which she deeply appreciates. Not yet ready to dive into deeper subjects, she shakes her head at the mention of the other man. "Know the name, not the guy. Good for him. Nice for someone to get a happy ending." She's distracted as she takes her bag from him, only to pause momentarily at the offer of shacking up with him. "Owen Moore, you're inviting me to move in with you the first time I come over? Doesn't feel fast to you?" The look she gives him is a playfully serious one, complete with one eyebrow arching upward to really lay the puzzled look on thick. "At least buy me dinner first..." Or make it..? Which is what he happens to be doing tonight. In that case? "Let me at least see the place first before you try and rope me in, damn."

With the door now open, Abby steps inside and is immediately overwhelmed by how homey it is. No wonder Owen would sneak away here so often. It doesn't feel like the shell of homes they had come across in their travels. There was no depressing atmosphere from remnants of what was once a normal place of peace. This place was about as good as it would get. Was nice to see some artwork on the walls, helped to make it not so barren. And it looked like he was quite the green thumb as well with a couple of plants inside looking just as nice as the greenery on the property looked. A couple of candles scattered about here and there, what looked like some really cozy blankets. Damn he had it good. "Alright now I'm real mad you've held out on me so long with this place."

A hot shower will help dampen her faux attitude and that's where she's headed to next. "I'll leave some hot water for you, maybe," she calls as she walks down the hall and shuts the door behind her. Finding a towel is easy. The small linen closet is neat and organized. The sound of running water soon fills the air and she's quick to undo her braid, strip down, and hop in. The sensation of heat floods her system and instantly relaxes her as the water washes away the grime of the day. In such a horrific world, this felt as close to perfect as it could get. Add in a home cooked meal and a movie and it was a recipe for a perfect 10.

Half a dozen women? That sent another pang of jealousy through her and though she would never say it to prevent inflating that big old head of his, yes they did have good taste and Abby was damn lucky that he had stuck with her for as long as he did. Would she blame him if he had sought comfort elsewhere? No, but she was grateful he had not. “That many? Man, I don’t know who all I can trust anymore. Making me start to question my own judgment at this point.” All jests aside, she was grateful and gave his hand a small squeeze as his home came into view.

Abby had to admit, it was quite nice from the outside. Nothing massive, a little one story but enough that one or two people could upkeep it well and it looks like he had been doing quite a fine job at that. It wasn’t overgrown like the surrounding homes and was beautifully green. No doubt the most luscious greenery she had been around in a hot second. Even the little garden beds out front looked like they had been tilled recently and were maybe awaiting some sort of planting to take place. Leaning forward as they came to a stop, she smiled at the view and glanced over to him. Releasing his hand, she then used it to give him a soft punch on the shoulder. “This is where you run away to so you’re not stuck in the barracks? Way to hold out on me, you ass!” With that, she’s up and out of car to stretch her legs.

After a good stretch that warms her muscles and eases some of the aches she brought on from slouching in the passenger seat, she pushes her sunglasses up onto the top of her head as she approaches the home and continues to look around the front. Considering how much he had allegedly worked on this, it certainly showed and she was eager to see what sort of work he had done on the inside. “If it looks as good as it does inside, I take back what I say as long as I can come hang here whenever because hanging around a bunch of grunts in close quarters really isn’t as fun as it sounds.” She saunters towards the trunk where their haul is and pokes her head around the corner in his direction. “C'mon, don’t slow up on me now. Chop chop before the crab and I have you for dinner. But for real, a tour would be nice. Even better if it ends at a hot shower.”

[highway-143]

whodunnit?- 0T7 enhypen

genre: murder mystery (answer to this ask)

pairing: ot7 enhypen, fem reader, baemon chiquita and asa, izna jeemin

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @planetmarlowe @shyoko

word count: 853 (shorty lol)

song: that girl is a gun- gun boi kaz

tw: it's all a game, but fake blood, fake death, profanity

(barely proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to represent any idol in the story

×××××××

"okay, who died in here?" sunghoon deadpans, staring at the dark figure laying on the ground.

"bro you aren't funny," says jay, circling the body. "obviously its sunoo."

jeemin walks over to where everyone crowded around sunoo, kneeling down and poking his cheek.

everyone saw the smile he tried to hide.

"he's definitely dead." she pronounces, turning to jungwon. "i bet yoi boy over here did it."

"woah woah woah, lets not point fingers" you say when jungwon opens his mouth to argue. "let's just figure out who did it."

jungwon laughs at jeemin's defeated expression, and you glare at him.

he shuts up real quick.

everyone stops to read the paper they got earlier, reviewing what they did the night before the murder.

you and jake break off to study the body. knife through the chest, blood pouring from the wound.

the blood looked a lot like ketchup.

asa crouches and points at sunoo's hand, where a piece of red silk was clutched between his fingers.

"what's that?"

"don't know." says heeseung "but don't move anything."

you look around the room, carefully logging every piece of information you could find.

"why is there a paper in the fireplace?"

everyone rushes to the brick structure, leaving sunoo's limp body behind.

you see him raise his head from the corner of your eye.

"let's just leave the evidence and figure out what people were doing last night" says riki, waving his paper in the air.

"good idea. what's the timeline?" you ask.

"at dinner i argued with sunoo" says jay.

"i sketched him after. heeseung and jake left early" asa pipes up.

"i saw riki leave to get more food" says jeemin

riki, heeseung, and jake all glance at eachother.

"the power went out at midnight. sunoo was gone when it came back"

"and jungwon and i found his body" says chiquita, holding back a giggle.

you look at jungwon.

"i found him with chiquita, i swear he was already cold. but i recognize that silk. it belongs to jay."

jay looks up from his paper, offended.

"heeseung, why did you and jake leave?" you ask, sitting on the armchair by the fireplace.

he glares at jake. "i don't know about this bozo, but i didn't put my journal in the fireplace. i wasn't feeling well.

"nobody asked about the journal bro." jake pats his shoulder. "i went to the kitchen to get water and saw sunoo alone in the hallway."

you nod, and turn to jay. "so what happened last night? an argument?"

he chuckles. "i argued with him, sure. but kill him? someone's framing me."

everyone stands in silence. you walk back over to sunoo, picking up the silk in his hands.

"jay, where did this come from?"

everyone 'ooohs'

"i don't know!" he protests. "when have any of you ever seen me wear silk?!"

"he who protests is he who kills" says jungwon.

"where the fuck did that come from?"

"my head!" says jungwon with a grin. jay rolls his eyes.

"let's just search the room for more evidence." says sunghoon

everyone nods, and starts scouring the sitting room.

you rub a hand over the piano, lifting the top to find...

nothing.

ew.

"hey, this looks familiar" you hear jeemin say, pulling a red book off the bookshelf.

"is that... silk?" asks chiquita.

"sure is." says jay. he holds up the piece of silk sunoo held against the book. "its the exact same."

you take the book, flipping open to a random page.

a sketch of sunoo.

everyone turns to asa.

"you tried to frame me?!" asks jay, astounded.

asa shakes her head frantically. "no. no! i was framed! come on guys, would i really ever kill someone?"

you watch her carefully, she wrings her hands.

the mark of a liar.

"asa. do you have an alibi?"

"yes! i was with you when the power went out! remember?"

you look at the paper

'asa accompanied you during the power outage'

oh.

everyone laughs.

"okay, so it wasn't you. jay." he stares directly into your soul. "what's yours? you fought with sunoo but during the power outage nobody knew where you were."

he stammers. "i... i had to.... use the bathroom?"

"nice try"

everyone screams.

sunoo was standing up, a while sheet draped over his body, with little holes cut in it so he could see.

"i am the dead ddeonuuuuu...." he says, drawing out the words. chiquita fighs another fit of laughter. "i have come to..." he holds the paper up to the eye holes. "... to tell my storyyyyyyy"

everyone loses it. riki slaps asa's arm in a fit of laughter. sunghoon doubles over.

"stop laughing." pouts sunoo. "do you want to know who killed me or not?"

"tell us then!" shouts jake.

"it was.... jay!"

everyone erupts in accusations and confessions.

"jay stabbed me! we were fighting!" shouts sunoo over the chaos.

"yeah! you were fucking annoying me! little shit!"

"jay, chill" says jeemin, grinning. "i think most of us want to kill him sometimes."

you shake your head for what felt like the billionth time.

you had weird friends.

×××××××

a.n- tysm for reading! as always, taglist is open if you'd like to join and reqs are always open as well! please like/share/reblog this fic if you enjoyed, and tysm to the anon for the req!

heres my masterlist for more fics!

[royalarchivist]

Quackity: We're gonna talk about it on our way there, ok?

Tommy: Just tell me where you went right and where I went wrong.

Quackity: This is where I went right. You're white, I'm not.

Tommy: PFTT— Yeah, ok.

Quackity: So that's– we're gonna start off with that, Tommy.

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: First Years (-Ortho)

Other parts: Housewardens ; Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Ace Trappola

The argument wasn’t loud—no yelling, no dramatic walkouts—just tense words exchanged with a little too much bite. Ace had been his usual smug self, which, unsurprisingly, only made you more pissed off.

So, rather than continue arguing, you grabbed a blanket, stomped off to the couch, and flopped down with a huff. If he wanted to be insufferable, fine. He could enjoy the bed all to himself.

You had just started arranging the cushions when you heard footsteps.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, a pillow dropped onto the couch beside yours, and Ace casually sprawled out like he had been invited.

You blinked. “Ace??”

He glanced at you, completely at ease. “What? We’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

You stared at him, then at the couch, then back at him. “We?”

Ace, the menace that he was, patted the tiny sliver of space beside him like he hadn’t just hijacked your whole plan.

You gawked at him. “You have an entire bed.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.”

“That’s the point, Ace!”

He had the audacity to grin. “Exactly. So, obviously, I’m here too.”

You gaped at him, absolutely stunned at the sheer level of his nonsense. Meanwhile, he just folded his arms behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

You glared. He grinned wider.

Then, after a long moment, he scratched his cheek, his bravado slipping just a little. “...Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first.” He glanced at you, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I don’t like going to bed when you’re mad at me. So… can I stay?”

The worst part? He actually looked kind of earnest. Like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just another one of his schemes to get his way, but something real.

Your irritation wavered. Damn it.

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, flopping down beside him.

Ace, the absolute menace, beamed like he had just won the lottery. Then, without missing a beat, he threw an arm around you and pulled you right into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled against his hoodie.

“Mm. But cuddly, right?”

“…Shut up.”

He snickered, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.”

And, annoyingly enough, you found yourself smiling as you drifted off—because, as much as he drove you insane, Ace Trappola was impossible to stay mad at.

Deuce Spade

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no dramatic exits—just an exchange of clipped words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Deuce had been tense, his frustration clear in the way he crossed his arms, in the tightness of his jaw. You weren’t much better, snapping back at him until the conversation hit a dead end, leaving you both too stubborn to fix it in the moment.

So, rather than risk making it worse, you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch, throwing yourself onto it with the kind of determination that came from being just annoyed enough to stick to your decision. You adjusted the pillows, tucked the blanket around yourself, and ignored the way the room felt too quiet now.

Behind you, there was a pause. A shuffle of feet. Deuce lingered, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The couch was fine, but it wasn’t your bed. And the silence—the weight of the unspoken apology hanging between you—only made it worse.

You half-expected Deuce to just go to bed, to let you sleep off your irritation. But then—soft footsteps. Hesitant, careful. He stopped just behind the couch, lingering for a moment before speaking.

“…Can you come back?”

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with frustration, just uncertainty.

You didn’t move.

A longer pause. Then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, already halfway to turning around, ready to tell him that you were sorry too, that this was stupid, that you just wanted to sleep—

Then you heard it. A quiet sniffle.

Your heart lurched.

You shot up, turning so fast the blanket nearly slipped off. Deuce was standing there, head slightly bowed, arms tense at his sides. He wasn’t crying, not really, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing unsteady, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep everything in.

Oh.

Your frustration vanished instantly.

“Deuce,” you breathed, already reaching for him.

He stiffened for a moment when your fingers brushed his wrist, but then, slowly, he let you pull him toward the bed. He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. The second you both reached the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him, tugging him close, feeling the way his shoulders finally relaxed under your touch.

His breath shuddered against your skin. He held onto you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. You squeezed him in return, as he pressed his face into your neck, letting the warmth between you say what words couldn’t.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice quieter, steadier.

You ran your hand down his back, a slow, soothing motion. “Me too.”

His breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Neither of you spoke after that. There wasn’t a need to. You just held him, letting the warmth settle, letting the tension fade.

Jack Howl

The argument had been sharper than usual—words exchanged with too much heat, frustration lacing every syllable. Jack’s ears had flattened, his tail flicking sharply behind him, while your own patience had worn thin.

Neither of you had raised your voice, but the weight of it had been enough. Enough that when silence finally fell between you, it felt like standing on the edge of something unsteady.

So, in an act of pure pettiness, you had grabbed a blanket and stormed off to the couch, settling in with all the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be the first to cave. You curled up, pulling the blanket tight around yourself, pointedly ignoring the way the room still felt charged with unresolved tension.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps following, no hushed words attempting to fix things. Just silence. You shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath your head, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Jack wanted to sleep alone tonight, so be it.

Then—the faintest creak of the floorboards.

You blinked, turning over just enough to peer into the dim light of the living room. Jack was there, sitting stiffly on the couch opposite you, his arms crossed, tail curled loosely around the edge of the cushion. He didn’t look at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, expression unreadable.

You furrowed your brows. “…What are you doing?”

His ears twitched. A beat of hesitation. Then, a quiet, gruff reply.

“Go to sleep. I’m just keeping watch.”

Something in your chest ached at that. Even after the argument, after the sharp words exchanged, he was still looking out for you. He always did.

You sighed, sitting up, the tension in your body already loosening. “Jack.”

He glanced at you then, ears flicking back slightly, wary.

Without another word, you stood, dragging the blanket with you as you crossed the room. Jack stiffened slightly when you reached for his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. You tugged, gentle but firm.

“Come back to bed.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled up, following you without resistance.

The moment you both settled back onto the mattress, his tail curled around you instinctively, pulling you just that much closer. The warmth of it, of him, seeped into your skin, comforting in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

A quiet exhale. Then, low, barely above a whisper—

“…I’m sorry.”

You pressed closer, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry too.”

Neither of you said anything after that. There was no need to. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid weight of his arm draped over you, the way his tail tightened slightly before finally relaxing—everything else could wait.

For now, this was enough.

Epel Felmier

The argument had spiraled out of control so fast that you barely remembered how it even started. One second, it was just a disagreement—sharp words exchanged, but nothing too serious. And then, all at once, it was a mess, voices raised, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

You had hit your limit first. Not because you didn’t have more to say, but because you were just too tired. Too tired to keep fighting, too tired to keep letting the hurt simmer in your chest. So, without another word, you had grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, turning your back to the bedroom.

The anger still sat heavy in your stomach, but beneath it, sadness gnawed at the edges. You hated arguing with him. Hated the way silence felt like a wall between you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to just sleep through it, to let the exhaustion pull you under.

It worked—for a while.

Then, the sharp clatter of pans yanked you back into consciousness.

You blinked blearily, registering the soft muttering, the sound of something nearly toppling over, the distinct smell of something cooking. Still wrapped in your blanket, you dragged yourself off the couch, stumbling toward the kitchen.

Epel was standing at the stove, back turned to you, gripping a pan with slightly unsteady hands. His hair was still messy from sleep, and even though his voice was quiet, you could hear the edge of frustration in the low curses under his breath.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene. The counter was a mess, a dish towel discarded haphazardly, the remnants of a nearly-spilled carton of eggs sitting precariously close to the edge.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stiffened slightly. Then, without turning, he muttered, “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

His voice was rough, but not unkind. Just strained.

You stepped closer, noticing the way his shoulders were set too tight, the way his fingers clenched the pan handle like he was trying to steady himself. And when he finally turned just enough that you could see his face—he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Your heart clenched.

Without thinking, you reached forward, gently prying his fingers from the pan. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The moment his hands were free, they hovered awkwardly at his sides—until, in one swift motion, he grabbed you and held on tight.

His arms wrapped around you, his grip desperate, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something heavy. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you that hard. Shouldn’t’ve let it get that bad.”

You softened instantly, guilt pressing at the edges of your own frustration. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, hands smoothing over his back. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other, letting the warmth settle between you.

Then, after a pause, you murmured, “C’mon. You’re gonna burn the eggs.”

Epel let out a small laugh against your shoulder before finally pulling back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, alright.”

You nudged him toward the stove, settling beside him. Together, you finished making breakfast, the quiet weight between you easing with every passing second.

Sebek Zigvolt

The argument had been bad. Worse than usual. Sebek had always been intense, but tonight had been different—his voice sharper, his stance rigid with frustration, his words carrying the weight of something neither of you had been willing to back down from.

So you had done the only thing you could think of before either of you said something you’d truly regret. You left.

Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off to the couch, body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. You barely managed to settle in before you heard heavy footsteps marching straight toward you.

Then, a firm voice cut through the quiet.

“Take the bed.”

You cracked an eye open, already exhausted. Sebek stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, expression unyielding. His stance was as rigid as ever, but there was something beneath the surface—something uncertain, something hesitant.

You exhaled through your nose and turned over, pulling the blanket higher. “Go to sleep, Sebek.”

“I will. Once you’re in the bed where you belong.”

You groaned, but before you could snap at him, he was suddenly kneeling beside the couch, eyes burning with unshaken resolve. His voice dropped lower, quieter, the sharpness softened at the edges.

“A knight cannot allow their beloved to sleep on the couch. It is unbecoming. Please.” His jaw tightened for a moment before he exhaled and added, “I… I should not have let it get this far. I should not have raised my voice at you.” His head bowed slightly, shoulders stiff. “I am sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Sebek was loud. He was brash. He was stubborn beyond reason. But kneeling there, humbled in the quiet glow of the moonlight, his apology raw and unguarded—you felt your own frustration ebb.

Slowly, you sat up, watching the way his hands clenched against his knees. And then, instead of answering, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

Sebek froze.

Then, before he could react, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.

He let out a startled noise as you dragged him onto the couch, his balance thrown as he landed beside you. The couch was too small—he was too tall, too broad, and neither of you fit properly. But you didn’t care.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, pressing against his chest, letting his warmth ease the last remnants of your anger.

Sebek let out a strangled sound, arms hovering as if unsure whether to hold you or allow you to push him away. When you didn’t, when you simply curled closer, his hesitation melted.

With a deep exhale, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. His hold was steady, protective, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“…This couch is entirely unsuitable for sleeping,” he grumbled, but his voice had lost its earlier edge.

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Then go to bed.”

A pause.

“…No.”

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and he squeezed you a little tighter. The couch was too small, the position awkward, but as long as he was holding you, it was enough.

Masterlist

[shawtuzi]

thinking about choso and the succubus that just won’t leave him alone :((

“p-please i can’t take any—hah! a-anymore,” choso sobbed, his fingernails digging roughly into the fat of your hips. you’ve been riding him for the past hour and a half and he was sure by this point he was shooting blanks. you’ve pulled four orgasms out of him and frighteningly enough you were showing no signs of stopping.

“i’m not done yet though cho,” you giggled, leaning down to press your lips against his. choso whimpered when your tongue, that was slightly longer than the average humans, slipped into his mouth. you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss when you felt him get harder inside of you.

choso’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when your tongue swirled around his, his mouth opening wider to give you more access. ‘what a slut’ he heard your voice echo in his head, arousal building up in his tummy. you abruptly pulled away from the kiss, a line of spit connecting your mouths.

“o-oh!” choso’s abs clenched when you lifted off of his cock, a loud squelching sound following. “pretty…y-you’re so pretty,” his voice was shaky as he praised you, tears of awe and overstimulation brimming his eyes. you didn’t say anything, instead you kissed your way down his chest, stopping when you reached his pelvic area.

choso heard your voice in his head once more, nodding at your question. ‘you want it?’ you had asked, the seduction in your voice as tempting as ever. choso’s back arched off the bed when he felt your tongue slither around the base of his dick. now this was new for him.

your tongue was able to wrap around almost every inch of him, massaging his most sensitive parts. you the felt the veins on the underside throb rapidly against your tongue, he was already so so close.

“s-stop—wait, w-wait no keep going, no n-no wait stoppp,” choso sobbed, tears now steaming down his reddened cheeks. he gasped finally at the loss of contact, his chest heaving rapidly. “w-why’d you stop?” he whimpered, his bottom lip pushing into a pout as if he wasn’t just begging and crying you to stop :((

choso jumped slightly when your wings expanded, shielding both of you from the light of his bedside lamp. “from this point forward i wan’ you to keep those pretty lips shut, got it?” he heard your honey smooth voice say firmly. choso nodded quickly, “yes, y-yes i’m sorry. no more talking i promise.” such an obedient lil thing.

choso’s mouth dropped open, a loud, pornographic moan belting from his chest. you focused your attention on his weeping tip, moaning at the sweet yet salty taste that was him. you toyed with his balls in your hand, giving them a hearty squeeze—

“o-oh f-fuckkk!”

you pulled off his tip with an obscene slurping sound, “cmon cho gimme all your cum. be a good boy and give it to me.” choso mewled, his thighs now trembling rather violently.

“i-i can’t it’s too much i don’t think i—”

“nonsense. i know you got one more in you for me pretty boy,” you cooed, sloppily kissing the inside of his thigh before sinking you teeth into the soft, sweaty flesh. choso let out a loud cry, the whites of his eyes showing before he came. hard.

“f-fuck!”

choso jolted away, a thin sheen of sweat covering his chest and face. his palms were sweaty and his heart was beating a million miles a second—the fuck happened to him?

he turned on his bedside lamp and looked around the entire room, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he had been looking for. his lips turned into a frown when he noticed his boxers had felt sticky. “again?” he sighed in defeat once his eyes landed on his messy boxers and very hard dick.

he lightly touched his cock over his boxers, immediately whimpering at how sensitive he was. “i’ll be quick, r-real quick,” he let out a sigh of relief when his hand began to palm at his boxers, he internally cringed when he felt how wet and sticky they were. his nostrils flared once he finally reached his hand in his boxers, gripping his throbbing cock with need.

his eyes trailed from his dick to his thigh, his brows furrowing when he noticed a bite mark???

while still stroking his cock he lightly touched the bite mark, his breath hitching when it actually felt good? why did it feel so good?

“hah! o-oh wow,” choso breathlessly chuckled, his hips bucking up when he pressed down on the mark once more. oh how he desperately wished he had something to fuck right now. his eyes fluttered shut, his mind trying remember the very lewd dream that had him so worked up.

as choso fucked his fist desperately you hid in the darkest corner of his room, watching him with lustful eyes. choso was always such a needy lil thing, if he had even a semi hard on he couldn’t contain the urge to relieve himself—that’s why you liked him so much and ventured into his dreams every night.

your lips lifted into a smirk when you heard him cum with a needy whine, white ropes on cum shooting onto his toned chest. he didn’t stop there though no no, he kept going, milking his dick until he was writhing in overstimulation. what a slutty man he was.

“m’still hard,” choso mumbled, poking the tip of his leaking cock. his lip caught between his teeth, his nose scrunching when he wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing softly. “one more s-should—mmph! do it,” he sighed, now slowly stroking his dick, a wet shlicking noise echoing throughout the room.

oh you were in for a real treat tonight.

[soggyriceee]

roommates | E. W | 18+

| your first time with a girl and ellie talks you through it |

you and ellie were strictly roommates. you both acknowledge each other presence of course, but you both never really. had much of a convo.

you were popular, a social butterfly. you made three new friends just from orientation alone. ellie had one friend, and it was more of a class friend than a real one. and she was fine with that. her real friends were back home anyways.

the issues came up when you would come back to the dorm Friday nights, drunk and half naked.

ellie was always a night owl, going to bed 3 hours before she had her first class. it was a bad habit, she knew. but the pros of said habit meant being used by you.

your sexuality was something your questioned often, and ever since rooming with ellie, youve thought much longer and much harder. while yes you both never spoke, you both had sexual tension that was hard to deny.

it first started when you had came home drunk from another party on campus. your usual routine was to undress and fall into bed. but this night, you decided to question the girl. you saw how she looked at you, at your lips your chest. she was visibly nervous and it made you feel good.

you don’t remember how exactly, mostly from the alcohol, but you remember straddling her lap, and making out. her hands gripped your hips, grinding you on her. you may have came in your pants from that, you don’t remember. but you remember neither of you really spoke about it the next morning, despite you waking up in her arms.

it was a drunken mistake, you told yourself. you weren’t sure if you even liked girls like that.

but for ellie it wasn’t a mistake, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. in fact, she promised every friday night to stay up late again, hoping for another makeout sesh.

but the more these moments happened, the more clothes came off. which, is how you both ended up in this current situation.

she laid below you, coaching you how to fuck yourself against her cunt. “just l-like that.. put your arm here..” she’d pant, taking your hand and placing it on of her shoulder. her other hand pressed on the lower of your back, helping in guiding your movements.

you’d never done anything like this before, you were shy and embarrassed. but ellie was nothing but patient with you, praising you for doing so well. “a-already so close..” you’d whine, not even a good two minuets in before you felt your stomach twist.

her lips would form a smile. not to make you feel embarrassed even more, but because it was cute. everything about this was cute.

your eyes were so big, and dilated. your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, face sweaty. you were trying so hard to please her and do the right things. it was an ego boost to her really. getting the popular girl to submit to her like this, and nobody know.

“your pussy is so wet babe.. bet nobody else gets you like this huh?” her green eyes piercing into you. watching how your body began to shake above her. “so pathetic.. you cum so quick.” she pouted, looking down to watch as your hips desperately rutted against her, not even wanting to wait and drag your orgasm out.

“f-feel s’good.. i’m gonna cum.” you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. your body was so sweaty at this point, so tired. if ellie hadn’t know that this was your first time with a girl, she’d probably be mocking you in her head. but instead, she found it cute how you used her body like this.

“go ahead cum babe.. i got you.” she’d coo, watching how your body came completely undone above her. and she wasn’t too far after, pushing her head into the pillow, letting out a pathetic string of whimpers, maybe even your name slipping out. but she used your drunk ness to her advantage, calling you crazy when you’d ask the next day.

she wouldn’t stop there though. after giving you a second, rubbing your back and pressing soft kissed to your head, she’d turn you over on your back, testing between your legs. “what a mess..” she’d mumble, rubbing her finger throufh your folds, collecting your cum.

she’s hum as her fingers touched her tongue, a faint sweetness to you cum making her want more. her tongue cleaned up all that mess, just to have you make a bigger one!

ellie had you right where she wanted you, and she wasn’t gonna make this a short lived experience. she wanted you to remember the best sex youve ever had being with her, regardless on if you took her serious after this or not.

“you taste so good.. wanna eat this pussy till you fall asleep.” she mumbled, sucking your clit. your eyes were rolled back, mouth ajar. your arms folded over your eyes as you let the feeling of her tongue take over your body. “y-you’re so good ellie.. please d..please don’t stop.” you’d beg, feeling your second orgasm building up. “i’m not baby don’t worry.. gonna make you cum just for me.”

safe to say you and ellie did in fact, finally have a conversation about the previous night the next morning. in fact, you both had a date that upcoming weekend, and ellie was determined to be your first girlfriend.

[katsukimybf]

bc all i think abt is college!katsuki

Katsuki Bakugou is the epitome of the type of friend where you don’t actually know if you are friends.

It started off slow and gradual; a head nod when you sat next to him in class for the first time. You didn’t think much of it at first—just Bakugou being Bakugou, cold and distant as can be. But then came the day the professor prompted the class to discuss the reading with the person next to you. Oh boy.

Distant caves would be jealous of him as he offered impressive silence. He sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at the textbook like it had personally offended him. You tried your best to speak about the text, feeling the weight of his weightless replies, and occasionally he’d grunt or nod, but the conversation resembled your middle school talent show performance. Awkward, yes, but not surprising for a college class.

Still, you found yourself sitting next to him every couple of days, the unspoken rules of college and assigned seating habits pulling you back into his orbit. You tried to be kind, offering small talk here and there, but Bakugou always brushed you off with a grunt or a glare. He was prickly, always on edge, and you figured that was just how he was.

You were like this too on most days. After having your fair share of college-creep experiences you laid off the whole talking to people bit. But there was this exception you made for Bakugou. Not an exception but a curiosity of some sorts. Hell, you also were never good at math but you were on edge to solve the missing variable that is Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously, what's his deal?

Maybe it was the way he didn’t care of how he seemed, it could be the mystery or maybe it was just the fact he looked like he was carved by Lysippos sitting by you at 9 a.m. lecture. Those thoughts were in the back of your mind… you even wonder if Bakugo is good at math? maybe then he could help.

But then there were these odd moments, moments where his usual gruffness gave way to something else. Like the day you mentioned how thirsty you were, sitting there in that old, sweltering classroom with no air conditioning. Bakugou rolled his eyes, muttered something about “are you always unprepared?” (he lent you a pen once before) but then wordlessly reached into his bag and handed you a water bottle.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to match his nonchalant demeanor. Trying to let it go.

But the gesture stuck with you. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t say anything more. He just went back to his notebook like nothing happened. Typical. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of slight butterflies in your stomach, even if you tried to brush them off as nothing.

Things continued in much the same way. Bakugou, still gruff and abrasive, but every now and then, something would slip through the cracks. A quiet moment of consideration, a begrudging act of kindness. He never let you get too close, but there was always that flicker of kindness. Of Bakugou. The real him, you think.

It was a rainy afternoon when you found yourself stranded at a bus stop with him. The two of you had just finished class, and the rain came out of nowhere, pouring down in quick splatters. You both stood under the narrow shelter that barely helped. Bakugou was glaring up like he was challenging the sky to a duel while his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first. And you didn’t think he would.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standing out here,” he grumbled suddenly, his voice low and annoyed.

Before you could reply, he was already shrugging off his jacket and, without looking at you, shoved it in front of you. He urged you to take it but you blinked in surprise, not knowing how to react.

But then, you felt the weight of the jacket warm and heavy on your skin. The scent of him—something sharp and clean—lingered in the fabric.

“Bakugou, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up. I don’t need your thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your gaze. He chose to stare at the rain instead.

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes but from that moment, something shifted. The dynamic between you two wasn’t any less tense, and he still barked at you when you got on his nerves, but the hostility had softened, just a little. There was still sharpness in his words, but now mixed in with these brief, unexpected moments of kindness? (for Bakugou, normal for everyone else)

The day before your big exam, you sat next to him in class, anxiety buzzing in your stomach. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” you asked, peeking over at him.

“Yeah,” he grunted, eyes not leaving his textbook.

You turned back to your seat, mentally patting yourself on the back for initiating (yet another) pointless conversation. But then, after a pause, Bakugou spoke again.

“Wanna review the material after class?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard, but quickly nodded. “Sure.”

And so after class, he led the way to the library, not even waiting for you to catch up. He moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the room for a quiet, secluded spot. When he finally sat down and pulled out his notes, you were surprised to see how meticulously organized everything was—color-coded, labeled, every detail in its place. So he probably is good at math? You were definitely getting somewhere.

He started drilling you with questions, breaking down complicated concepts with a precision you hadn’t expected. His intensity was relentless, but it pushed you to focus, to work harder, and slowly, your understanding of the material started to click into place.

Hours passed in a blur, and the sun began to set outside the windows. The two of you were still going over definitions when Bakugou glanced over at you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile on your lips. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Good,” he muttered, turning back to his notes, but something about the way he said it felt less harsh than usual.

But all this time of him testing you made you want to test him. Probably because you suspected how sexy he’d look getting every question right…

You smirked, feeling a little bold. “Aw, not you caring if I understand the material.”

He shot you a glare and his face twitched like he was holding back a grin. “I don’t,” he snapped, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

“You just looked so damn scared earlier, it was pathetic.”

You faked a small gasp at that. He wanted to laugh.

“Aww, are you worried about me being sad?” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “It’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face turning slightly red.

That’s not a no, you think. You laughed, the sound light in the quiet library, and for the first time, you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, barely there, but real.

Quaint and underneath all his surroundings lied Bakugou Katsuki. Almost as if he were labeled X in some math problem.

So yeah… he’s cold and mean and gruff, but… you know he has your back with exams… and when you’re cold, and when you say you're thirsty, and when you need something nice to look at. Definitely, Katsuki Bakugou is your friend…

That happens to have a massive crush on you.

(… and unashamedly, so do you.)

[lizardho]

The Halloween Story

As with most of my life stories, I have to clarify beforehand: Yes, this is real, and it is real because (and ONLY because) I am stupid. This is not something that happens to normal people because they wouldn't ever get close enough to a situation like this for it to happen. That being said, without estrogen my brain's "keep this idiot alive" switch was not turned on and I was, I think, biologically incapable of making good decisions.

Another thing to know is that I did not have a lot of friends as a kid because I'm terminally awkward; additionally, most of the friends I did have were maybe better described as "people who tolerated me but who I would take a bullet for." This is important for later.

Anyways, I was like 9 or 10 when this happened, and my littlest brother was like...5 or 6? This was his first Halloween where he was allowed to Trick-or-Treat past the end of our block, and he HAD to be accompanied by me or another older kid so he had begged me for DAYS to take him. And while I held the title of oldest brother, I feel like I put my whole pussy into being a good oldest brother, so I of course took the family's babiest of babies for his first ever trick-or-treat adventure!

I went dressed as Dartanian because I've been gay for a while, and he went dressed as a skeleton because he's adorable. We went trick-or-treating only in areas I knew, so mostly within the boundaries of our l'il Mormon ward, and we had fun. About a half-mile away from home, he started saying he was getting tired, so I told him we were gonna turn back and watch "Scary" movies, which was actually just two old VHS Scooby Doo episodes my mom let us watch because she only let us watch episodes where the monsters were fake because if they were real we'd get nightmares. So we start walking back. It's not too far and we know the way so it's going great. Littlest bro's first trick-or-treat adventure went swimmingly, we've got pillow cases full of candy, and we're about to watch scooby doo and eat skittles until we pass out. Life, for us, literally could not have been better.

BUT

As I walk around the corner of my old street, the far end of it, by a bush, I hear my best friend whisper-shout at me from a bush:

"Lizard, Lizard, stop, hide, quick!"

In most cases, my thoughts can be summarized by a humble: "Bwuh?" and in this case I'm pretty sure I said something like that out loud. I look into the bush, and I see it is JAM-FUCKING-PACKED with kids my age. Like 6 of them hiding behind this tall oleander bush shaking like they just saw a ghost. I wave to them, because I don't know what's going on, and tell them that Littlest Brother is tired so I'm going home. That's when one of them angrily grabbed me and littlest brother and tugged us into the oleander with them.

I think they thought we were hidden, but this was one shrub currently occupied by like 7 kids and despite how small we all were that was still more shrub-per-kid than the shrub could hide so me and littlest brother didn't actually fit. And I was squirming trying to get away because it was poky and scratchy and smelled bad and also I didn't know why I was being pulled into a shrub to begin with.

The ruckus of my squirming was freaking my friends out, who were all telling me to shut up and hide, and I was telling them I wasn't playing hide-n-seek and Littlest Brother was REALLY getting tuckered out so PLEASE let go so I can go home, when around the corner came three Big Kids on bikes.

These kids seemed HUGE and SCARY to me at the time, although realistically they were like in 8th grade and also dork-ass losers. They were on bikes with handlebar breaks, though, and they were wearing costumes ironically under hoodies, so they seemed scary at the time. They see me thrashing in a bush and correctly deduced that the kids they had been hunting down were in the bush too. This is when I learned that my friends were all scared because they'd been being hunted for sport by older boys. Like, actually, for real, we were being bullied on Halloween by kids who called us "dweebs" and shit, I cannot explain how that was actually happening in the early 2000s, that was a worn-out trope in the 80s, but it for real, actually, swearsy-realsies, happened to me.

They're bigger than us and have at least started puberty so they're a lot stronger than us. They fished us all out of the bush pretty easily and made us all line up. This was all happening on a well-lit suburban street in a Mostly Mormon neighborhood so again, I don't know how it all got this far, but it did.

Once we were lined up, they start quipping about our costumes and harassing us a little bit. Again, this is like STRAIGHT out of a shitty campy overdone 80s sitcom so I get that this sounds fake, but we were literally getting pushed around and called dweebs and nerds by some fuckass 8th graders who were all smoking a cigarette one of them stole from their mom. Finally they were getting bored so they told us that their terms to releasing us were that we give them our candy.

My friends, who are smart and wanted to be alive, immediately started grabbing fistfuls of candy from their buckets or bags to hand them. But I am stupid, and was trying to be a good older brother, and didn't understand the concept of mortality because HRT had not yet flipped that switch in my brain, and I saw littlest brother getting scared. His lips were trembling like he was about to cry, he was clinging onto me for dear life, and one of these kids comes over and is being all mean and calling him a baby (which he basically was, so like what even is the point?) and I got mad. So I took my prop rapier from it's sheath and started jabbing his ribs and head until he rips it out of my hand.

"Jesus Christ, you little faggot. I'm keeping this, you're not getting your sword back."

"K, fine, just leave my brother alone."

"I leave him alone if you give me ALL your candy."

He says it with this shit-eating grin, like he's got the upper hand. But I'm mad and suicidal in the same way a horse is suicidal, which is to say I don't care if I die as long as this fucker dies too, so I tell him if he wants my candy he can have it, and I wallop him with the candy sack. Hard. I put all 70 lbs of 9-year-old rage into that whump, and to my credit it caught him off guard. He steps back and rubs his face and the biggest kid in the group steps into his place.

"You wanna fight?" He's trying to act tough but he's also trying to square up with an unquestionably faggy 9-year-old Dartanian so it's tough. It's also a stupid, stupid question to ask, since I literally DID want to fight and he was just posturing.

So I hit him too. Again, all the rage my 9-year-old body possessed channeled into a pillow case filled with Dum Dums and skittles slaps into his face. I move to smack him again, because he's looking at me all incredulous like he doesn't think I'm serious. He tries to grab the bag but I kick his shin and he has to step back for a second because he was on his bike with only one leg on the ground and I had just kicked it so he was trying to keep balance. I took advantage of the momentary distraction and whapped him in the belly. That, I think, was the final straw for him, because he (seriously, yes, for real) took out an actual knife.

It was a real folding knife, I could hear the little mechanical click as he flicked the blade out and the locking mechanism secured it in place. He looks at me with murderous intent for like a tenth of a second before one of my other friends asks,

"Dude, are you serious?"

And it clicks that he just threatened someone with a real weapon. He takes a step back and tells me, trying to sound brave but now far enough out of his own comfort zone that he's starting to wonder what happened in his life to bring him here (which is dangerous, confused people do confusing shit).

But I'm horse-style suicidal and I honestly didn't think it was real, so I swing at him again. Full-body swing right for the face, and he slashes at the candy pouch and it tears. And I'm like "Oh shit, that's a real knife!" and he's like, "Oh shit, this kid is gonna beat me until I stab her or run!'' And that's when my Knight-in-Emo-Armor arrived!

The kid was like the archetypal "Bad Boy" of my childhood. He wore black hoodies to church and said "damn" instead of "dang" and "shit" instead of "shoot." He listened to metal music and told his grandma (who adopted him after his mom lost custody for drug use stuff) to shut up sometimes. He smoked. He was a moody goth/emo/scene/whatever enigma of rage from his shitty family life. He was also known for being actually real-life dangerous. The kid in front of me was contemplating stabbing me, but my Knight had actually broken someone's jaw in a fight before.

The whole time we were getting held up, he was just walking down the street listening to an honest-to-God MP3 player, stoned as all hell, angry at the world, and watching this all unfold. And he recognized a bunch of kids from church he barely gave a shit about, but then he recognized *me* and although he didn't know *me* super well, he fucking LOVED my dad because my dad was super nice to him at church, and he knew I was my dad's kid. And he knows the kids talking to us are bad news because he's friends with some of their friends and he knows they're all wannabe tough guys. And he makes a decision.

This guy, my knight, was tall, mean, scary, and crabby, and EVERYONE knew that, not just the Mormons in my life. And in all black, with black hair and black nail polish, he had remained almost perfectly hidden as he walked in the middle of the road on the tar-black Arizona asphalt until he suddenly emerged from the shadows right behind the kid with the knife.

"Bruh, what the fuck are you doing?"

This kid whips around and sees my knight and just blanches. Like, all-the-way white-as-a-sheet scared.

"Oh, Knight, h-h-hey, I didn't see you. You know these kids? We're just teasing them!"

"Hilarious joke, cocksucker. That's a real knife. Fuck off."

They almost left a cartoon dust cloud in the shape of their bodies as they left. My friend and "friends" from church all followed suit - Knightboy was BAD news with a capital B-A-D and they were probably more scared of him than the original trio. But I knew Knightboy because he teased me a lot in his last year elementary school and sometimes came over to talk with my dad so I knew he wasn't a bad kid. He bends down and picks up the plastic sword the first kid dropped and gives it back to me.

"This is yours, I think."

I took it, sheathed it, and said, "Thanks! You shouldn't swear."

"Man, I'm too stoned for this shit, just get out of here."

"Ok, thanks Knight! See you at church tomorrow!"

And I toddle off with Littlest Brother. I take him to some of the best houses on our street for a second round of trick-or-treating so he can calm down, and we go home. My mom puts Scooby Doo on and asks me how everything went - I tell her it was fine, it was fun. She said that Littlest Brother said something scary happened, and I said "Oh, I think he got spooked by Knight is all." And she just shrugged and walked off. By the end of the night, I honestly forgot it even happened. I was more invested in trying to figure out how to grow up to be like Velma and lining my skittles up by color so I fully did not even remember.

BUT.

My mom is friends with all the other moms at church - she has to be because she has a master's degree in a church that teaches that employed women are failing God and their families so she ended up as a high-achieving woman working as a stay-at-home mom and if she didn't make friends at church she would fully go insane.

And at church the next day, my mom is approached by a tiny pack of mothers all saying "Wow, Lizard is so brave, aren't you so proud of her?"

And because she's a Good Mom who Loves Me So Much, she says, "Yeah, totally, why do you ask?"

And they say, "Because she tried to fight off some muggers last night! She hit them with her candy bag!"

And my mom says, "Haha, Yeah, she's fierc-wait what in the fresh hell did you say?"

And they all tell her the story, and my mom is PISSED that I didn't mention, but she also knows I am capital-D Dumb, so she pulls me out of Sunday school and asks me,

"Lizard, baby, did you scare off some muggers last night?"

And I said, "Oh yeah, kinda! Knight was the one that actually scared them though."

And she says, "Lizard, baby, why did you not tell me?"

And I said, "Oh, I forgot."

And she just nodded and tried unsuccessfully to push my little "Alfalfa sprout" strand of hair down, and gave up, and then pushed me back into class. And later that day she made like 3 lbs of chocolate chip cookies and drove them all over to Knight's house to thank him. And basically ever since then I was in Knight-in-shining-armor's good books (although he wasn't very good at showing it for a bit), and I had an undeserved reputation among the kids in my church as a badass for like a year, which I felt pretty good about.

Anyways, the Halloween Story is so weird that sometimes I question my own memory of it, but I am telling it now based on my memory as best as I can recall and after fact-checking it with my mom a few times.

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

→ premise: marc could get possessive, very possessive infact and when that happens he cant seem to hold back.

→ pairing: marc sceptor x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, face sitting, thigh biting, oral [f receiving], nicknames [mine, my girl, sweetheart], possessiveness,

→ a/n: kinktober 06

Marc tended to be a little hotheaded and possessive when it came to matters involving you. It was normally Steven taking the brunt of it, though it made no real sense for him to get jealous. Though in instances that didn’t involve Steven, you were normally able to pull him aside and calm him down.

this was not currently one of those times, the two of you were attending a work party at your office. A coworker of yours had practically pulled you from Marc's arms to go talk. Though his version of talking was him flirting relentlessly and trying his hardest to get you to leave the party with him.

By the time Marc found you again, he was seething in anger at the man. As he walks up he starts noticing your coworker was flirting with you and trying to touch you. Marc had been tired and ready to go home so he let his possessive nature take over, though he knew once it did it was hard to shut off.

“Yeah, hey bud she's with me and we're leaving now” he nearly growls out at the man as his hand snakes its way around your waist when he walks up next to you. His sudden and fuming presence beside you makes you jump slightly though you were grateful for the save.

With a small scoff and not so cleverly hidden eye roll, your sleazy coworker stomps off. You barely have time to question the latter half of Marc’s statement about leaving before he rushes you towards the exit.

The ride home is silent besides the soft hum of the car and the sounds of the night flooding the air through your open window. Marc tight knuckled the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as his gaze was fixed to the road ahead. You’d normally be worried or scared in a moment like this with someone else, but with Marc you knew he wasn't mad at you. He was protective as well as possessive and so he was more pissed off at your scumbag coworker who didn't seem to grasp the concept that you were taken. You were sat clenching your thighs, he looked so good in that damn button up shirt you made him wear to the party that you were ready to stay home, so you were more than happy to be headed back.

In the blink of an eye you’ve made it back home and Marc is quick to jump out of the car and rip open the passenger car door, pulling you out of the seat and throwing you over his shoulder. “Guess I’ve just gotta mark you up sweetheart, that way you go into work tomorrow and all those men you work with know you’re my girl” he explains as he walks towards the house, holding you up on his shoulder with one hand on your waist and the other across your thighs right under your ass. You loved when he marked you, proudly showing them off when you could, though you could never show them off at work sadly, and he knew that.

“Marc I could’ve just walked inside on my own- hey!” He cuts off your protest with a short but solid smack to your ass.

You let out a huff and try to ignore the ache settling deep in your core at the action, your pussy already aching for his touch. You’ve never told him although he already knew that you secretly liked it a lot when he’d get like this. It made you feel wanted, even if Marc had no problem telling you and showing you in a million and one other ways just how much he wanted and loved you.

You let out a squeal when Marc drops you on your back onto your shared bed, you bounce slightly catching yourself by leaning back onto your elbows. Marc stands at the foot of the bed, eyes already full of lust and lidded as they raked over your body. “Strip sweetheart, you’re gonna sit on my face” he commands, his voice oozing with impatience.

You move fast to peel your clothes off along with your soaked panties, quickly un-clipping your bra and letting It fall off your shoulders, discarding it all on your bedroom floor. He's on you within the blink of an eye, maneuvering your bodies so he is laid out on his back, your thighs either side of his head and your pussy hovering over his face.

“My girl, all fucking mine nobody else’s” he growls and grabs ahold of your leg, opening his mouth and biting the inner plush of your thigh. You let out a gasp in both surprise and slight pain, squirming in his grip. He switches over to your other thigh when he is satisfied with the mark his teeth leave behind. He hums against your thigh as he bites down, rubbing softly at your leg to try and soothe you. The pain morphs into pleasure the more you get used to it, the indents of his teeth in your thigh makes your core tighten.

While you're lost in your own train of thought, Marc’s mouth lets go of your thigh with a small pop. He licks over the mark of his bite, a smirk growing on his face, he knew they wouldn't show as you couldn't wear short skirts to your office but he has never been more graceful for an HR rule than that one. Being pleased with his marks he now focuses all his attention on your leaking cunt above his mouth. With his grip on your legs he pulls your body down onto his face, licking a strip through your folds, drinking up your slick.

You moan out in response as your hips involuntarily grind against his mouth. “Mhm! Fuck Marc.. baby~” you whine out as his nose nudges your clit when his tounge licks and pushes through your folds. Vibrations float through your body as he tries to mumble out something against your pussy. Threading your fingers through his messy hair you use that leverage to pull his face away from you. “What was that love?” You question, using the short moment his mouth is off you to catch your breath.

“Maybe I’ve gotta put a ring on ya’ finger, that way those assholes at work will definitely know your spoken for, that youre all fuckin mine” he groans and pushes against your grip to dive back in and resume his mouths asssult on your throbbing cunt. His tongue pushing through tour slit distracts you from his statement about potentially proposing to you. Finally giving your aching clit attention, wrapping his lips around it and sucking, even biting softly at the bundle of nerves. His teeth send shivers down your spine, your thighs slightly shaking at either side of his face, he uses his hands gripping onto your legs as leverage to pull you even further down, forcing all your weight to be put on his face.

→ a/n: this wasn’t proofread, i rushed it and i kinda hate it lmao but I needed to get this out, i can already feel my effort and motivation for kinktober dwindling a bit.

[luvvixu]

wallpaper / k. bakugo

his phone wallpaper was exposed!

it was a rare quiet afternoon in the common room. most of the class had gone out, but you and katsuki bakugo had decided to stay behind.

well, he claimed he had things to “work on,” but you knew he just didn’t want to deal with people today. not that you were complaining. you liked his quiet company, even if he liked to pretend he was annoyed by yours.

you were lounging on the couch with your phone, scrolling through your gallery, occasionally giggling at the silly pictures from the other day. the memory of him accidentally putting salt in his coffee instead of sugar still made you chuckle.

katsuki walked towards your seat with a cup of water on his hand and his phone on the other hand. your eyes immediately traveled to the grenade phone charm you gave him weeks ago.

from the corner of your eye, you saw your boyfriend heavily and locked his phone as he sat beside you and placed the mug on the table. but in that split second before the screen went dark, you caught a glimpse of something familiar.

was that…you?

you turned to him slowly, a mischievous grin creeping up your face. “wait…was that me on your lock screen?”

he froze like a statue. “no.”

you blinked, then laughed. “katsuki, i know what i saw.”

“you’re seein’ things and you're blind as hell.” he grumbled, shifting slightly away from you on the couch.

“oh really? because i distinctly remember that photo. that was from last week during our date at the cafe! you know, when you—pffft!” you snorted, “when you put salt in your coffee by mistake and tried to act like it didn’t taste like sadness.”

“that never happened,” he growled, his ears turning red.

“so you didn’t delete that photo?” you teased, leaning over a bit to try and peek at his phone again.

“tch. mind your own damn business,” he muttered, angling his phone so you couldn’t see a thing.

you leaned in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, voice soft and teasing. “you must really like looking at me, huh?”

a groan escaped him, low and embarrassed. “why’d i fall for such a dumbass smug like you?”

your breath caught a little at that, the teasing moment melting into something warm and fluttery. “simple, you love me,” you whispered, smiling.

he didn’t deny it.

instead, he grumbled, “hell yeah, i do. so shut up about it before i change my lock screen to a picture of a damn explosion.”

you giggled and snuggled into his side. “okay fine. but only if you send me that photo. i look really cute in it, aren't i?”

“you’re the worst,” he muttered—then pulled you closer anyway.

the next day in class, everything seemed normal—or as normal as it could be when you were dating the great explosion murder god dynamight, the human equivalent of a hand grenade with resting angry face.

he was acting completely unbothered, like nothing had happened between you two yesterday. like he definitely hadn’t admitted to having your photo as his lock screen. like he definitely hadn’t held you on the couch and let you fall asleep on his shoulder while muttering that you “smelled like peace and bad decisions.”

you smirked to yourself at the memory as you slid into your seat.

bakugo was sitting two seats over, looking like he might bite anyone who breathed near him.

all was peaceful…until kaminari, fucking kaminari again, decided to be kaminari.

“yo, bakubro,” he said, leaning over during break. “lemme borrow your phone real quick. i remember y/n using your phone to take the photo of a literature lecture from the last meeting.”

“no,” bakugo replied instantly.

but kaminari was already halfway reaching it.

“i just need to check the time, man! chill yo ass down and whoa, nice lock scre—” he paused. “...is that...is that y/n?”

bakugo’s entire soul left his body.

you watched it happen in real-time: the secondhand embarrassment, the denial, the “i’m going to murder him” expression blooming beautifully across his face.

kaminari turned the phone toward Kirishima, whose eyes lit up. “dude, that’s the pic from the cafe, right? y/n told me it was the time where the she was laughing her ass off because bakugo put—”

bakugo snatched the phone back so fast it nearly burst into flames.

“mind your damn fucking business!” he barked, face scarlet.

the entire row of desks went quiet. even aizawa opened one eye from his nap in the corner.

you, meanwhile, were wheezing into your hands.

kirishima, bless this guy, tried to help. “aw, c’mon man, i think it's sweet and manly! you are finally soft for someone. it’s like watching an angry cat adopt a human.”

“i will happily kill all of you,” bakugo growled, shoving his phone in his pocket like it had betrayed him.

you leaned over and whispered, “you could’ve just used a picture of an explosion.”

he glared at you, cheeks still red. “you’re really lucky you're my girl, dumbass.”

you smiled wide, warm and smug all over again. “damn right, i know.”

masterlist

©luvvixu2025

a/n: im starting to run out of ideas about writing this dude. pls help asap cuz i really need to keep up with my hyperfixation in writing lmfao.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Okay okay like brat tamer remmick x brat reader where she’s being all pouty wanting his attention and being all moody and he’s done with her attitude so he just plants her down on his dick and her brain just goes all mushy and her attitude completely disappears as she cockwarms him 🫠🫠 can u tell I’m ovulating?

Brat||Remmcik x Fem!reader

Summary— you had been acting like a brat all day long and remmick has had enough.

Warning—Power dynamics (brat x brat tamer) Light dom/sub dynamic Cockwarming Edging / orgasm denial Rough language Manhandling Possessive/controlling behavior Size kink elements Dirty talk / degradation (mild) Brain-melting overstimulation (non-penetrative) Vampire partner (implied supernatural strength)

@abriefnirvana @fuckoffbard

You were being impossible.

Remmick had given you space. Time. Every chance to settle that little attitude. But no—there you were again, sprawled on the couch in nothing but one of his shirts, huffing, whining, dragging your fingers slowly over your thighs just to see if he was watching.

Spoiler: he was. He always was.

“You’re being cruel,” you pouted, tossing your phone aside with dramatic flair. “I’m bored.”

He didn’t look up from his book. “You’re spoiled.”

“And neglected,” you added, voice syrupy and teasing. “My vampire boyfriend doesn’t even care that I’m sitting here soaking through my panties.”

He turned a page.

You shifted your hips on the cushion, letting out a breathy little moan as your hand trailed between your legs—again, loud enough for effect. “It’s honestly rude how wet I am and no one’s doing anything about it.”

Still, silence.

That pushed you a step too far.

You stood, stomped over to him, and climbed right into his lap, straddling him like a challenge. “Hello? Earth to Daddy Dracula,” you smirked. “Are you broken, or just boring now?”

His jaw ticked. He set the book down.

“Say that again,” he said quietly.

You grinned. “Boring.”

In one smooth movement, Remmick grabbed your waist and stood up, carrying you through the apartment like a ragdoll. You squeaked and kicked a little, but you didn’t resist—not really. Not when you knew what was coming.

He dropped into the armchair with a grunt and yanked your panties aside. You barely had time to gasp before he lined you up and slammed you down onto his cock with a force that knocked every bratty sound from your lungs.

“Remm—!” Your voice broke off into a moan, long and needy.

He filled you too fast, too deep. The stretch made your head spin. Your mouth fell open, your body locked up, and all that fire in your belly short-circuited into static.

And then… nothing.

He didn’t move.

Remmick leaned back in the chair, arms hooked lazily over the armrests while you sat stuffed full of him, trembling, your pussy fluttering around his cock as your hips instinctively tried to grind.

“No,” he warned, voice calm but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass. “You don’t get to move. Not yet.”

You whined in protest, fists balled in his shirt. “But I—”

“I said no.”

He tilted his head. “You act like a brat to get my attention, but when you finally get it, you think you’re the one who decides what happens next?”

You let out a frustrated noise, squirming just slightly. “I was just—”

“Just edging yourself,” he cut in, fingers curling around your ass to still you. “Every sigh, every touch, hoping I’d break. Now you have my cock, and I’m gonna let you sit here—dumb and dripping—until you forget how to act like a little fucking princess.”

Your breath hitched. Heat pulsed between your legs. He was so deep, so still, and you were throbbing around him—desperate for him to just do something.

“Remmick, please…”

He smiled, cruel and quiet.

“Maybe. If you ask sweet enough.”

Your lips parted—but the moment your hips twitched, he gripped your jaw.

“Say something bratty again,” he murmured darkly, “and I’ll pull out and leave you empty until morning.”

You whimpered.

That shut you up real quick.

And so you sat there, cockwarming him—your mind turned to syrup, your body twitching with every pulse of need, every denied orgasm hovering just out of reach.

Mouthy no more. All pout gone.

Just a warm, wet, obedient little toy sitting perfectly still until Remmick decided you’d learned your lesson.

[mejaemin]

prompt 9 with jaem pretty plz !!!

jaemin + them discovering ur praise kink

(18+ mdni !!!) warnings: couch stuff, riding, mentions of drawing blood but its so vague, praise kink ofc an: another one that i accidentally made too long… i love my nana banana so much i had too much fun remembering and writing down our experience tgt.. bc this is our story obvi

“mm, baby, you’re so good for me..” jaemin breathes, head falling back against the couch. the noise that spills from your mouth is a mix of a whine and something a little more strangled, and that pairing with the way you clench around him has his whole body shuddering.

you grip his biceps, whining and gasping endlessly as you bounce on his lap. your arms are tired, baby pink nails leaving scratches on his skin as your high comes closer. truthfully, the way jaemin speaks to you so sweetly, making you feel so good and special, praising you with the most flowery words as his dick stretches you out.. it makes you feel a certain way, making you all flustered non-sexually, and setting your body on fire in intimate moments.

even when he speaks to his cats, petting one of the girls as he gives her praises for doing literally anything. even if it’s not directed at you, it makes you squirm just thinking about his voice, smooth and velvety, calling you a ‘good girl’ the same way he does to his babies.

“angel,” he starts, hand resting against your cheek. “where are you right now?” he stops you, hand on your hip to keep you from moving, smiling when you let out a sweet little sorry.

“thinking about you..” you mumble, looking down at your hands.

he chuckles, sitting up to connect his lips to yours. “i’m flattered.. but why don’t you focus on the real me, hm? how i feel inside you?”

you nod, slowly repositioning yourself to be comfortable, before finally starting to move again. he sighs, sinking back into the couch cushions. you’re already so close, so quick just from his face, all glossy with sweat glittering over his pleasure-stricken expression.

“oh, fuck, doing so good, my good fucking girl.. bouncing on me like that..”

he doesn’t even mean to say it, it just happens, but it’s everything you wanted. that’s all it takes, just those three words, and your body freezes, hips jerking as you cum around him. your voice is empty, hands bruising and drawing blood as you grip his muscles with one of the most intense orgasms of your life. jaemin’s right there with you, pulling you into him as his seed floods your insides.

you both stay there for a moment catching your breath. you’re frozen, hoping he doesn’t bring up how badly you just gave yourself away, but of course he does.

“what was that, huh?” he pinched your hip when you don’t respond, and you whine into his neck. “you liked that? being my good girl?”

“please shut up..” you groan.

he chuckles. “no.. it’s cute. i don’t mind calling you that from now on.. i mean, it’s what you are isn’t it?” you whine again, embarrassed by him, but he only laughs, leaving wet kisses on your cheek.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Touch Me

virgin!Eddie x fem!reader

summary: you get your nipples pierced and your best friend, Eddie is the first one you want to show

cw: MDNI (18+) nipple play, thigh riding

part two part three

You hadn't told Eddie that you were going to do it. He knew that you had been wanting to get your nipples pierced, talked about it at length, in fact. you thought it would make you look hot and Eddie couldn't have agreed more. Not that he would have ever told you that. How attracted to you he was and how often he got himself off at the thought of you, piercings included.

So when you showed up on his doorstep with your piercings peeking through after having gotten them done a few weeks ago, he was trying to keep himself from getting hard. He was trying to think about literally anything else, but all that was happening in his mind was flashes of him with his mouth on your tits, toying with your piercings as your back arched underneath him.

Little did he know that you had been waiting for them to heal a bit because you were thinking the same thing. You were going to take a leap and ask him if he wanted to have his way with them. Ever since you had that dream the night before your appointment, you couldn't get the idea out of your head. And now you had to make it a reality before you drove yourself crazy.

"So you finally went and did it," Eddie pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Sure did," you nodded, trying to arch your back subtly as you sat down on his bed. "Do you...wanna see them?" He could clearly see them through your very thin, very white shirt, seeing that you hadn't even put on a bra.

"Fuck yes." his words came out like a whimper and you tried your best to not think about how hot it sounded. You pulled off your shirt with ease, almost as if you had shown your best friend your tits all the time, which you didn't. Eddie definitely would have remembered that.

You let the shirt fall to the floor and pat the spot next to you, inviting Eddie to sit there. He was quick to sit next to you, his gaze on your tits the whole time. He hadn't seen many pairs (at least, not in real life) but he had to admit that yours were the best. And seeing the piercing going straight through your very hard nipples was just the cherry on top.

"You can touch them if you want." Eddie just blinked at you, unsure if he had heard you right. "Go ahead." You pressed your palms into the mattress, leaning back, giving Eddie perfect opportunity to touch you if he wanted to.

His hand reached out to one of them and he cupped it, not entirely sure what to do. He hadn't touched a woman period, let alone like this. But he was glad it was right, knowing that you would help him and be nothing but sweet while you did it.

"Here," you took his hand away from your tit and fixed it before putting it back so that his thumb was pressed against your nipple and the rest of his fingers were resting along the side, curling against your back.

His thumb moved back and forth along the piercing and you shut your eyes, feeling pleasure course through you. An involuntary moan fell from your lips and Eddie continued, seeing that you were enjoying it.

"That feels good," you told him. "Keep going." Eddie followed instructions, pressing even more and you moaned again, sounding even better than you did in his dreams.

He honestly couldn't believe it was happening, that he was touching his best friend in that way, but he loved it. The way you were pliant to his every touch was doing something to him. He was wondering what else you would have let him do if he had asked.

"Oh my god," you moaned again and Eddie looked down at your other nipple, desperate to have his mouth on it. He want to know what the felt like in how mouth. What it tasted like. The sounds you would have made if he sucked on it.

Before he could stop himself, his mouth was on your other tit. He immediately took the piercing between his teeth and let his tongue fiddle with it. It was cold, but he had to admit that he loved the way it felt. His tongue moved back and forth across your nipple and your hands moved to his hair as he began to suck on it.

It was gentle at first and then he used a little more force, loving to hear your cries underneath him. You knew that he had never done anything like that before so you wondered how he had gotten so good at it. Did he just have experience that you didn't know about?

The truth was that Eddie had watched a lot of porn and read a lot of smutty books to get himself familiar with it all and he had gotten very knowledgable about the subject even though he was a virgin. He never wanted to tell you about it, though. Not because he thought you would have made fun of him, but more because he wanted to keep it a secret. Something he had all to himself.

"Fuck," you whined. "Oh my god, how do you know how to do that?"

"Don't worry about it. Just lie back and enjoy." He helped you lie back on the bed then went in again, licking and sucking as hard as he could without hurting you. He was moving as slow as possible, wanting to soak up every second he had to touch you like this since he knew this was only going to be a one time thing.

Just when you thought he was finishing up, he took the piercing between his teeth and giving it a little tug, causing you to moan even louder. Clearly you liked that more than he was expecting.

"Do that again." He did as you asked, pulling a little hard this time which caused you to tug on his hair. He pulled one more time then liked a stripe across your nipple to diffuse the sting.

He then moved onto the other nipple, wanting to give it the same attention and you could feel your vision getting cloudy. You tugged on Eddie's hair even more as an orgasm ripped through you, a loud scream falling from your lips.

He gave one last tug before pulling away, leaving you to come down from your orgasm, unsure what to do. You stared up at him, your eyes glazed over and he swore you were the most beautiful you had ever been, lying there topless, your tits shining with his spit.

Eddie sat on the edge of his bed and you threw on your shirt before crawling over to him, spreading his thighs before straddling one of them. He didn't know what you were doing, but he sure as hell wasn't going to question it. He was going to let you do whatever you wanted to him considering that he had wanted you for years.

You hooked your finger under his chin and forced him to look you in the eyes, feeling like you could have looked into his with how pretty they were. Especially with the sun peeking through his window, giving them a golden tint.

Eddie looked up at you, his mouth slightly agape as he watched your every move, desperate to know what you were going to do next. He was literally on the edge of his seat and was eager to follow you in whatever you wanted to do.

"Can I kiss you?" You asked and all Eddie could do was nod enthusiastically since he had seemingly been rendered speechless.

Your grabbed hold of his hands and rested them on your waist while your arms wrapped around his neck. You then leaned in gingerly, wanting to take things slow since you knew he had never been kissed before. At least, not in the way that you were thinking. You had been each other's first kiss when you were thirteen, but that had just been a peck.

Your lips met his and he was quick to follow your lead, his lips moving with yours as his eyes shut tight. It was slow at first, but then you began to grind on his leg and his brain short circuited after that. The whole thing was becoming overstimulating for hi, but there was no way in hell that he was going to ask you to stop.

You continued to ride his thigh as you nipped at his bottom lip, a whimper coming from the back of his throat. You nipped again and then diffused the sting with your tongue before dipping it into his mouth, a full on moan falling from his lips as your tongue tangled with his.

As soon as felt his rock hard cock against your knee, you decided to put everything to a stop. You pulled away to see that his pupils were blown wide, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip and you tried to hold back a laugh at your lipstick that had smeared all over his mouth and chin.

"Because I know you're not ready for the next step," you replied, swiping your thumb along his chin to get rid of the lipstick, but it had only made it worse. Eddie wanted to argue, but he knew you were right. He could do everything else no problem, but there was something about the penetrative part that scared him. And he appreciated that you understood him.

"Believe me, when you are ready, I will be the first person to volunteer to be your first. If that's what you want."

"You're the only person I'd want it to be."

"We'll I'm honored."

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"I actually have to get to work, but I'll come over tonight and we can do more of this?"

"Sounds good," he nodded, already counting down the minutes. You pressed another kiss to his lips then climbed off of him before grabbing your purse, fleeing his room.

Eddie was quick to follow, watching to get in your car, trying to figure out what he was going to do in the few hours you were going to be gone, hoping that would be a regular thing between the two of you. Maybe if he played his cards right, it would be.

[citranna]

There’s a new kid in Park Row.

Jason knows every single kid on the street, and this one is distinctly not one of them. Hell, judging by that scraggly bright red sweater, he’d be surprised if he’s even from Gotham. Still, the beat up sneakers and pants that are one size too small show he’s not gonna be a target for robbery.

He’s been here for about what, two weeks now? The kid’s been popping in and out of corridors and thin gaps between buildings, alert, without having a solid address. He hasn’t been seen with anyone consistently either. No parents, probably. If he had any Jason would’ve figured out where they live by now. The question is why he’s here. What could a street kid be looking for in Gotham that he wouldn’t get in his (most likely) better home city?

He’s careful when approaching him. The helmet scares the little ones, so he dawns his domino instead. Hands up and away from his body and at a respectable distance, Hood greets him.

“Hey kid.”

The boy turns his head around quick, eyebrows shooting to the top of his head before his eyes alight with recognition. Good, he knows him. It’ll make things easier. An uneasy smile spreads across the kids lips as he offers a small wave in greeting.

“Yeah, nice to meet you. What brings you to Park Row? You looking for something?”

The boy does nothing but shrug. Real helpful. Then again, it could be because…

“Can you speak?”

He brings his hand up and tilts it side to side. A symbol for ‘So-so, ish’. He could work with that, weirder shit has happened in this alley. He fishes into his breast pocket for a notepad and pen, thankful the kid doesn’t seem panicked in the slightest at the motion. Carefully, he draws closer to hand him the items.

Up close and directly under the moonlight, the kid looks around ten, but if he’s anything like the kids in the alley and himself at that age, he’s probably malnourished. He’s probably more like twelve, give or take.

The boy nods his head in thanks (cute that he has such good manners) and scribbles down a sentence in okay-ish handwriting, turning the pad to show Jason.

‘Can’t talk right now, lost my voice. I’m just looking around here.’

Jason scoffs. “There’s better places to look around, y’know, even if you don’t got cash. If this is just for fun I’d pick a better, cooler spot.”

Another line gets jotted down, faster than the last. ‘It’s cool, I think. It’s nice in its own way. I won’t be staying for much longer anyways.’

Interesting. His mouth opens to ask for more, but he finds itself quickly slamming shut. Although this kid is among the most friendly and open one he’s met (and oddly a smooth talker too—Jason feels compelled to just believe him and not question him further, but he’s able to push that weird feeling down) but it’s probably best not to push his luck and pry further.

“Cool, cool. If you ever need a place to stay for the night, there’s a new shelter right down the street we just built. My uh…office, is nearby too.”

The kid nods, a glint of knowing mischief in his eye. Jason waves, letting him walk calmly away from the direction of the shelter and straight towards the subway system where he disappears every night.

Yeah. Gotham’s definitely haunted.