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heeluvv · 3 days ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ⋆˚✿˖°

pairing ✿ stepbro! park sunghoon x stepsis! reader

genre ✿ smut

warnings ✿ stepcest, oral (m), face fucking, etc.

natty’s notes ✿ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

sunghoon never let up with his teasing, always throwing smug comments your way—how innocent you were, how untouched, how you wouldn’t even know what to do with a man if you had one.

it was constant, relentless, the kind of taunting that should’ve rolled off your back. but it never did.

you tried not to care, tried to brush it off like it was just typical stepbrother shit—him being a menace, always trying to get under your skin. but he lived for your reactions, for the way your brows would knit together in frustration, for the heat that would rise to your cheeks when his words lingered too long.

you knew it. and worse, he knew it too.

tonight was no different.

you had left your room to escape him, retreating to the couch in an attempt to find some peace, but he followed—because of course he did—plunging himself down beside you with that same lazy confidence, legs spreading wide, one arm draped over the back of the couch like he owned the space.

his presence alone was irritating, heavy with the weight of something unspoken.

“so,” he starts, his tone slow, laced with something teasing, something that immediately puts you on edge. his gaze flickers toward you, a smirk already tugging at his lips. he’s about to say something stupid.

and then—

“have you ever even sucked a dick before?”

your breath catches in your throat.

your fingers tighten around your phone, your head snapping toward him, brows furrowing as disbelief flashes across your face.

“what the fuck, sunghoon?” you scoff, shoving his arm. but he doesn’t budge—doesn’t even flinch.

instead, he grins wider, a soft chuckle slipping from his lips, his amusement obvious, infuriating.

“i guess that’s a no.”

you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to your phone, pretending to ignore him. but you can feel his gaze still on you—heavy, lingering, filled with sharp amusement.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the slow drag of his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression shifting into something almost mocking.

“poor thing,” he hums, feigning pity. “no guy’s ever had the pleasure of having you on your knees for him?”

his words send a shiver down your spine, uninvited, unwelcome.

your fingers twitch, gripping your phone tighter.

he was baiting you. again.

but this time, for some reason, you weren’t so sure you wanted to ignore it.

you let your phone slip from your fingers, barely hearing it land beside you as you shift your full attention to him.

slowly, deliberately, you turn to face him, a smirk tugging at your lips—one that doesn’t quite match the rapid pounding of your heart.

“you know what,” you murmur, pushing yourself up from the couch, your bare feet silent against the floor as you move.

sunghoon watches, his amusement flickering with something darker as you step between his spread legs.

his posture tenses, but he doesn’t lean away, doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just watches.

“why don’t you teach me then?”

his expression shifts in an instant.

his jaw ticks, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his fingers twitching against his thigh. the air between you thickens, something sharp and electric crackling in the silence.

his voice drops lower when he speaks, rougher.

“you wouldn’t know what to do with me, baby.”

his words are meant to intimidate you, meant to send you scurrying away, but they only fuel the fire burning low in your stomach.

you exhale a soft breath, then—before you can second-guess yourself—you lower yourself to your knees, your hands settling on his thighs, fingers pressing lightly into the muscle beneath the fabric of his sweats.

his body stiffens immediately, his thighs tensing under your touch.

his breath hitches.

his gaze—once playful, teasing—now darkens, his pupils dilating as he stares down at you.

you tilt your head slightly, your voice a quiet, sultry hum.

“then teach me how.”

his lips part, just slightly.

he doesn’t speak for a moment, doesn’t even breathe—just stares, his gaze fixed on you, unwavering, sharp.

then, finally, he exhales slowly, a smirk ghosting across his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“you want me to teach you?” he murmurs, voice thick with something unreadable.

his fingers flex at his sides before he rests one hand against the couch, the other twitching like he’s deciding whether to touch you, whether to pull you closer.

then, his voice drops to something even lower, something more dangerous.

“fine.”

his eyes flicker down to your waiting hands, then back to your face.

“take it out.”

your fingers tremble slightly as they slide up to the waistband of his sweats, brushing over the firm muscles of his lower abdomen before curling around the fabric. with a slow, deliberate pull, you drag them down, taking his boxer briefs with them, letting the material bunch at his knees.

your breath catches in your throat as his cock springs free from its restraints, resting heavily against his lower stomach.

your eyes widen, heat pooling low in your stomach as you take in the sight before you—he’s not even fully hard yet, and he’s already huge.

thick veins curve around his length, prominent even in his half-hard state, and the tip glistens slightly with precum, the faintest bead of it catching the dim light of the room. instinctively, you squeeze your thighs together, feeling a dull ache begin to throb between your legs.

“spit on your hands,” sunghoon instructs, his voice calm but laced with quiet authority.

you glance up at him, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours, dark and unwavering. his arms are slung back against the edge of the couch, his posture relaxed—too relaxed, considering the situation. like he’s completely in control, completely at ease, watching you unravel before him.

you swallow thickly before obeying, parting your lips and letting a slow stream of spit coat both of your palms.

his lips curl into something unreadable, something pleased.

“now stroke it.”

you hesitate for only a second before wrapping your fingers around him, your touch featherlight at first, adjusting to the sheer size of him. your other hand moves up to join, both working in tandem as you begin to stroke, slow and unsure, gliding over the slickness of your own saliva.

a sharp inhale leaves sunghoon’s lips, the sound subtle but undeniable.

his muscles tense slightly, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths, but it’s the soft, unintentional gasp that escapes him that has your pulse racing.

“good,” he murmurs, voice slightly strained, his hips shifting just barely in response to your movements. “now—”

his eyes flicker down, watching the way your hands move along his length, the way his cock twitches under your touch.

“have your thumb circle my slit.”

his voice is softer now, laced with something less controlled.

you do as he says, your thumb gliding over the sensitive tip, spreading the precum, swirling slow, teasing motions against the head.

a quiet moan slips from his lips, barely audible, but the way his head tilts back slightly, the way his eyes briefly flutter shut before reopening, tells you everything.

his cock hardens under your touch, growing heavier, hotter, his body reacting despite his otherwise composed exterior.

“fuck,” he exhales, voice deeper now, more strained.

his arms remain slung back over the couch, but his fingers twitch slightly, gripping at the fabric beneath him as his breathing grows uneven.

he watches you work, watches the way your hands move, the way your lips part slightly in concentration, the way your own body seems affected by what you’re doing to him.

“now replace your thumb with your mouth and tongue.”

his voice is low, dark, dripping with authority as his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just enough to make your scalp tingle. he guides you forward, bringing you closer to where he wants you, his cock twitching in anticipation.

“circle your tongue over my slit,” he continues, his voice raspier now, filled with something less controlled. “suck on my tip—but don’t let me feel any fucking teeth.”

your stomach tightens at his words, heat rushing through you as you obey. your lips part, and you let your tongue flick out, tasting him, teasing the sensitive head before swirling slow, deliberate circles around his slit.

his reaction is instant.

“shit—just like that, baby…”

his voice is rough, his muscles tensing beneath your hands. his fingers flex in your hair, gripping tightly as you suck on his tip, hollowing your cheeks, collecting the salty precum that beads at the head.

his thighs shift beneath you, his hips barely resisting the urge to push deeper, but his control is slipping—you can feel it.

“uhh—take me fully, baby,” he grunts, his hand tightening in your hair, guiding you down further, urging you to take more of him.

you try, your mouth stretching around him, your jaw aching as you attempt to accommodate his size. but he’s thick, and even halfway down, you already feel the resistance in your throat.

he groans, his breath hitching as your lips slide down further, taking as much of him as you can.

but it’s not enough.

his free hand twitches against the couch, his patience wearing thin.

“what you can’t fit, stroke with your hands,” he instructs, his voice slightly strained.

you wrap your fingers around the base, matching the movement of your mouth as you stroke him, your hands working in sync with your lips, slick with spit and precum.

his head tilts back, a deep, guttural moan slipping from his lips as he exhales heavily.

“fuck—”

his grip in your hair tightens, pulling you up just slightly, only to push you back down again, slower this time, controlling your pace.

your throat tightens, your breathing uneven, but you adjust, taking him in deeper, letting him guide you.

“this is how you do it, baby…”

his voice is barely more than a breath, heavy with pleasure, his restraint slipping with each passing second.

his hips twitch, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you, his dark eyes locked onto the way your lips wrap around him, the way your cheeks hollow as you suck.

“go faster, baby…” sunghoon groans, his voice thick with pleasure, breath hitching as his fingers tighten in your hair. his grip is firm, guiding your movements with slow, deliberate control, forcing you to take him deeper, to match the pace he needs.

you obey, bobbing your head faster, sucking harder, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock with every stroke. your hands work what your mouth can’t, twisting slightly with each motion, slick and warm, perfectly in sync with the way your lips stretch around him.

his thighs tense beneath your palms, his body shuddering as a deep moan rumbles in his chest.

his hold in your hair is almost too tight, almost bruising, but the sting only fuels you, makes the heat in your core grow unbearable. you let out a soft moan against him, the sound vibrating through your throat, sending tremors up his cock.

sunghoon’s reaction is immediate.

“oh fuck—shittt…” he gasps, his head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his jaw as he loses himself in the sensation.

his other hand clenches against the couch, knuckles white, muscles flexing, his breath turning ragged, uneven. his hips twitch, threatening to thrust up into your mouth, but he holds himself back—barely.

his moans grow more desperate, more raw, mixing with the wet sounds of your mouth working him over, with the soft, messy gasps of breath you take between strokes.

he looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, his pupils blown, his lips parted slightly as he watches you take him—his cock disappearing between your lips, glistening with your spit.

his chest rises and falls rapidly, his body trembling as he grits out, “fuck, baby—just like that. don’t stop.”

he moans louder, his control slipping, fingers tightening in your hair as he pushes your head down further, forcing you to take him deeper. his hips jerk up, thrusting into your mouth, the sudden movement making you gag around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“fuuuck—shit, baby,” he groans, his voice raw, breathless. “make me cum before they get here…”

the mention of your parents sends a fresh wave of heat through you, the risk of being caught only making this filthier, more forbidden. you could hear them any second—keys jangling, the front door creaking open—but right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way sunghoon is using your mouth, chasing his high with reckless abandon.

a muffled moan escapes you at the thought, vibrating around his cock, making him twitch against your tongue.

“oh fuck—” his voice cracks, his body trembling as he loses himself in the pleasure.

his grip in your hair tightens as he holds you there, his length hitting the back of your throat with every desperate thrust, your lips stretched wide around him, saliva dripping down your chin, making everything even messier.

the ache between your thighs becomes unbearable, your core throbbing with need as his moans grow louder, rougher, more desperate.

“take this fucking dick, baby—shit…” he groans, his head tilting back, eyes squeezing shut as he nears his breaking point.

he’s close. you can feel it—the way his cock throbs against your tongue, the way his thighs tense beneath your hands, the way his breaths turn shallow, erratic.

and god, you want it.

want to feel him come undone in your mouth, want to swallow every last drop before either of you even have time to process what the fuck you’ve done.

you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, letting your tongue swirl around the sensitive tip, pushing sunghoon further into his unraveling. his grip in your hair tightens almost painfully, his thighs trembling beneath your touch as his breath turns ragged, uneven.

“oh fuck—fuck, fuck!” he groans, voice breaking, his entire body going taut.

his hips snap forward one last time, his cock twitching against your tongue before he spills into your mouth, hot and thick. his release comes hard, sharp bursts coating your tongue, dripping down your throat as he moans uncontrollably, his chest rising and falling in deep, shuddering breaths.

his head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut, jaw clenched as he rides out his high, his fingers tangled tightly in your hair, holding you there, making sure you take all of him.

his body slowly relaxes, his breathing still heavy, but his grip in your hair remains firm as he tilts his head down, half-lidded eyes locking onto yours.

his voice is softer now, but still laced with authority, still dark with satisfaction.

“swallow it, baby…”

his thumb brushes against your jaw, his smirk lazy, smug, as he watches you obey. watches your throat bob as you take all of him down, not a single drop wasted.

“good fucking girl,” he mutters, breath still uneven, his thumb trailing down to your swollen bottom lip, smearing the remnants of him against your skin.

his gaze lingers on you, eyes hooded, dark.

and even though he just came, the way he’s looking at you tells you—

he’s nowhere near done.

natty’s notes ✿ okay so at first this was definitely a maybe (wasn’t sure if i wanted to post it since i felt like it wasn’t as good as i pictured it to be), but i’ll have you all be the judge of that ;)

#enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon

587 notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 21 hours ago

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♡ what happens when the man you’ve been having anonymous phone sex with asks you to come over to his place so you two could have a date of your own?

warnings: mean!rafe, enemies to ???, brief descriptions of phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mutual pining, praise, orgasm control, orgasm denial, degradation, flirty banter

a/n: this is part three of this mini series! thank you so much for all the love on this series so far, i wasn’t expecting such an outpoor of support <3 if you ask to be added to the taglist and i don’t reply, don’t worry!! i promise i’ve seen it and have added you!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 2.8k

“..you sound pretty.”

you froze, the slightly familiar voice sending a shiver down your spine. “who’s this?” you swallowed thickly, already having a gut feeling. “you know who i am.” with a demeaning tone like that, you only had one guess. “so out of all of the usernames you could’ve came up with; ‘country club’ was the one that stuck?” rafe smiled to himself before taking a drink from the liquor in his glass. he was alone on the druthers now with nothing but you on his mind, along with his mystery girl that he never stopped thinking about.

“it’s just a nickname a friend of mine gave me,” he explained, “no one else knows me by it so that’s why i chose it.” you hummed, a hint of curiosity piquing your interest. “really? who?” you asked him in a poor attempt to get something out of him. “ah, you wouldn’t know him. he’s from the cut.” now you were really interested. “the cut? how did you end up being friends with someone from over there?”

rafe was quiet for a few moments.

“it’s a long story. i think you’d find out who i am if i told you about it.” you tried to think about any drama or gossip that chanel may have filled you in about at some point but ultimately came up empty handed. “i see..” deciding to change the subject, you asked him about something that actually had relevance. “so what had you so wrapped up earlier?” rafe sighed, your pictures from earlier flashing in his mind.

“i was on a date— if you could even call it that,” he laughed, “the amount of bitchy attitude this girl throws at me every time i see her is crazy.” you ignored the spark of jealousy that lit up in your core, your eyes narrowing as you thought of all the things he could’ve been doing with someone else that wasn’t you.

rafe had a very specific reason for bringing someone else up and just like he had hoped, you fell right into his trap. “yeah? you should probably call her and talk to her instead.” you were quick with your remark, rolling your eyes before settling underneath your plush comforter.

“i think i already am.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, a sense of panic washing over you as you thought about your earlier encounter with rafe. could you really be the girl that quote unquote ‘throws bitchy attitude at him every time you see him’? it would be hard to tell considering you threw bitchy attitude towards everyone, but still, his words caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. “no, that’s impossible.” to be in denial when you two were this far along in your arrangement was simply delusional, but you couldn’t help but deny his theory.

“you think so?” he sat back in his seat overlooking the water. “i know so. cause i went on a date tonight as well.. and i personally find the guy insufferable— hot, definitely, but insufferable nonetheless, and i’d like to think that if me and you have ever talked or interacted in person we’d at least get along in some way.” now it was rafe’s turn to feel jealousy burn through his chest at the mention of you going on a date with someone else other than him.

“you went on a date?” the calm tone in his voice was now replaced by assertiveness, his jaw clenching as he imagined you getting all dolled up for some loser. “yes.” you don’t know why, but you felt like you had did something wrong. “and you said he was hot?” rafe downed the rest of his drink, pouring himself another shortly after. “yes..” you answered again, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, “i’d fuck him even though i told him it would never happen.” if rafe couldn’t understand what was so similar between you and his personal internet slut then, he definitely knew what it was now. you had to be her.

rafe thought about your words from earlier.

“why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?”

you had such a smart mouth on you, the only thing rafe could think about was how he’d shut you up by filling your throat up with his cock. “it’s funny you say that. i could’ve sworn my brat of a ‘date’ said the same thing to me.” suddenly you felt like you were in enemy territory, every single one of your sensible instincts urging you to hang up the phone. “uhm—” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “i wonder if she has any idea that i’d fuck her senseless if only she’d let me.” your mind drifted off to rafe again, and the way he was looking at you before you left; as if he knew you something you didn’t.

“tell her that next time you talk to her.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as he muttered a ‘i will.’

deciding to move into the cabin inside the druthers, rafe slid the door shut behind him before be turned the lights off, a groan leaving his lips as he took a seat on the couch. “so why’d you call me? you know, since you’re obviously interested in someone else.” rafe scoffed, rolling the tension out of his shoulders before blinking up at the ceiling. he was amused by everything that came out of your mouth. “i’m not interested in anyone else. i think i have you figured out, and if i’m right then this couldn’t be anymore perfect.”

rafe imagined you being the one on the phone with him right now, your hand in between your thighs as you got off to the sound of his voice. he imagined you wearing nothing, those pretty tits of yours on full display. “and if you’re wrong?” you teased. “i’m not. i can’t be.” while you had no idea who he could be envisioning, you had no problem waiting for the day to prove him right or otherwise. “i guess we’ll just have to play the waiting game until we can’t anymore..” rafe hummed in agreement. “well that won’t be very long then.”

you hoped not.

there was a beat of silence before rafe’s voice sounded through your receiver. “sooo.. what are you wearing right now?” you groaned, the cliché and overused line making you shake your head. “you have seriously got to come up with something better to initiate this,” you fiddled with the string of your robe, “but i’ll work with you just this once.” if only you could see the look on rafe’s face right now. “sorry i’m not an experienced phone sex expert, i prefer my sexual encounters in person.” he laughed when you cursed under your breath. “ugh, goodnight.”

while rafe thought you were joking, you had really hung up on him, leaving him both turned on and frustrated.

[10:57 PM] brattydiaries: 1 attachment

[10:57 PM] brattydiaries: and to think.. i really wanted to touch myself. oh well, i’ll see you around ‘country club’

rafe was pissed when he opened your message and saw a picture of you completely naked in your silk robe, his cock stirring at the sight. he could’ve had you rubbing your clit by now if only he would’ve went easy with the remarks.

[11:00 PM] countryclub: you’re gonna make me work hard for it aren’t you.

[11:01 PM] brattydiaries: oh, you have no idea.

and that’s exactly what rafe did. he was persistent, making sure to call you every single night after that until you finally approved of his efforts. he knew from the moment he heard you moan on the phone that it was all worth it.

“f-fuckk, i can’t!” you cried out in frustration as rafe denied you another orgasm. you’ve been at this for an hour now, your panties drenched with your arousal as he taunted you on the other line. “yes you fucking can, you don’t cum until i let you, you understand?” you huffed, your clit aching with sensitivity as you shuddered at his words. “you made me wait all this time to get you like this, you can hold out just a little bit more for me.” rafe grunted, his own hand palming himself through his boxers.

you shuddered, your eyes fluttering shut as he told you all about the things he’d do if he had you there with him. “i’d fucking wreck you, baby,” he moaned, thinking about fucking you to tears until you couldn’t handle it, “fuck’ that attitude right out of you and get you all pathetic and desperate. just like you are right now.” you were at the point where you couldn’t even touch yourself anymore, your orgasm being just in arm’s reach. “please!” you whimpered, your thighs trembling with the need to let go, “i’ve come close so many times already.”

as odd as it may sound, rafe hasn’t let himself cum ever since you two started having phone sex. messaging each other and sending pictures was different— but now that he had your voice in his ears, it made everything feel real. he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let himself finish until he had you in the palms of his hands. maybe it was a way for him to torture himself, but he was determined to make it happen. you were going to be his no matter how long it’d take.

“you’ve gotten so good at begging me for it, you don’t even put up a fight with me anymore.” rafe laughed, thinking about all the times that you were the one turning him down, now you found yourself being completely at his mercy. “..fuck you.” you whined, writhing under your sheets. “soon enough.” rafe whispered, still listening to your pleads. “i could make myself cum right now,” you said breathlessly, “..and you wouldn’t even be able to stop me.” rafe’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“do that and you won’t hear from me for three weeks straight. thank god for a block button, right?” you scoffed, your chest rising and falling as you rubbed your thighs together. “matter of fact.. just for that poor excuse of a threat, you’re not cumming at all.” you didn’t get to rebuttal before he hung up, your eyes widening before you groaned. asshole.

“okay, i love our little bottomless mimosa dates but i’m still recovering from last night.” chanel laughed, adjusting the sunnies on her nose. you and your group of girlfriends were out on the patio at the country club, your table filled with fruity drinks and half empty glasses. “oh my god, you should’ve been there, y/n! it got so crazy that someone called the cops and the whole thing had to get shut down.”

you were only paying half attention to what was being said, majority of your focus being.. elsewhere. specifically— rafe out on the golf field, his skin glistening with sweat as the blazing outer banks sun beat down on him. “it sounds crazy.” you hummed, nodding even though you only heard the first half of chanel’s sentence. she eyed you, following your line of vision before a smug grin pulled at her lips.

“so.. how come you’ve been m.i.a?” just as rafe looked up to meet your gaze, you snapped out of your reverie, blinking away. “forreal, it’s like you’ve disappeared these past few weeks.” you looked around at your friends, a nervous laugh escaping from you. how do you even explain to anyone— let alone your best friends, that you haven’t been to any parties or hangouts because you’re too busy getting talked through your third, sometimes fourth, orgasm of the night?

it’s simple; you don’t.

“i’ve been doing a lot of stuff for my parents. it just gets so tiring sometimes, you know?” chanel knew you were lying, but that was a conversation for another time. thankfully, no one questioned you any further and you were free to look back at the man who, for some reason unbeknownst to you, has been plaguing your mind. ever since your little awkward debacle on his boat, you two hadn’t really interacted with one another except the weird lingering stares you’d catch each other doing. you’d be lying if you said things didn’t feel a little bland without having him around as much.

“i’ll be right back.” you excused yourself, swinging your purse over your shoulder as you made your way inside. taking a seat at the empty bar, you looked around cautiously before opening your tumblr messages.

[3:08 PM] brattydiaries: i have on a super short skirt today.. maybe you could catch me somewhere

you stared at the screen for a minute, hoping he’d answer right away before you sighed to yourself and rested your chin in your hand. apart of you couldn’t help but feel bad. you should be outside with your friends right now, engaging in the latest island drama and raving about celebrity gossip but instead you’re here at a bar all by yourself feeling pathetic as ever because you couldn’t help but grow semi-attached to this ‘countryclub’ guy.

“can i buy you something to drink?” you looked up at rafe as he took a seat next to you, his large frame still towering over you even while he was sitting down. your heart started beating in your ears at the close proximity, your eyebrows pinching together at the overwhelming feeling currently swimming in your tummy. you never got nervous in front of guys, but all of a sudden rafe’s thigh is brushing against yours and now you’re shy? gross.

“i was just leaving actually.” you cleared your throat, avoiding the burn of his stare on the side of your face as you quickly scooted out from your chair. you didn’t even get to get up before rafe pushed your seat back in. “i wanna talk to you.” he sounded like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, the firmness in his tone making you swallow thickly. staring at him for a few moments, you obliged, but not before ordering the most expensive thing on the drink menu.

“so what do you want?” you faced him, watching as he downed his scotch. “i, uhm— are you busy this weekend?” arching a brow, you thanked the bartender once he slid your overly dressed up cocktail in front of you. “yes, very.” no, you weren’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “well.. i would really appreciate it if you could make the time to come over to my place, ‘say around seven?” you blinked, not understanding clearly. “what’s the occasion?” you asked confusingly. “no, not a party. just us two.”

that grabbed your attention immediately. you sat there, replaying his words in your head until it finally registered. “just us? at your house this weekend at seven o’clock?” he nodded. “i already told you i’m never having sex with you, rafe.” the man in front of you rolled his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. “god, y/n,” he groaned, “as much as you’re breaking my heart right now, that’s not the reason why i’m inviting you over.” you giggled at the annoyed expression on his face, flipping your hair over your shoulder as he glared at you intently.

“so what’s the reason then? why would i ever go over to your place, rafe? enlighten me. please.” while rafe was secretly hoping you’d just agree and go on with your day, he should’ve known you weren’t going to be easy to obtain. sighing, he leaned in closer, his chest brushing the side of your shoulder. “look; last time we were by ourselves you told me that you didn’t like me because i was talking about you first, which by the way— i want to apologize for,” he started, “i feel like we got off on the wrong foot and i wanna start over.” you turned your head, his face just inches away from your own.

“i should’ve never said anything about you without knowing you first.” you two stayed silent for what felt like an eternity before you softly nudged him away. “okay, i get it, you don’t have to get all softie on me, rafe.” the corner of his lips tugged into a smile when he saw how flustered you got. “is that a yes?” you almost lost it when his fingers brushed yours, your stomach bursting with buttetflies at the small action. “fine,” you sighed, “but i still don’t like you.” rafe blinked slowly, restraining himself from jumping out of his chair. “that’s fine, i’m not asking you to.”

just as you were going to smart mouth him, your phone dinged! with a message from chanel. “well thanks for the drink, i’m going back out.” rafe watched you get up, his eyes trailing down your figure until they settled on your bare legs, your heels clicking against the floor as you walked off. “hey, y/n?” you spun around at the sound of his voice, muttering a ‘what?!’ before he winked.

“cute skirt.”

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @xcinnamonmalfoyx @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr

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napoftustar · 2 days ago

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diphylleia grayi, the skeleton flower is a species of perennial plant in the family berberidaceae‚ it is native to northern and central Japan.

known scientifically as diphylleia grayi, this rare plant grows in cool moist mountain regions‚ adding a touch of magic to the forest floor. the flower’s petals have unique cell structures that absorb water‚ allowing light to pass through and create their glass-like appearance, its petals become transparent when in contact with water and once it’s dry, the petals return to white.* and probably the reason why it’s called skeleton and not glass (although its scientific name origin actually means glass/clear flower) or transparent flower is because it’s not fully transparent and you can see the flower’s ‘veins’, you can still see its ‘skeleton’?

*“The flower has air spaces between its loosely packed cells. The air in these empty spaces reflects all the wavelengths of lights. It is this reflection that makes the flowers appear white. Now, when it rains, water replaces the air space between the cells. Water and the fluid inside the cells of the cells (the cytolymph) have the same refractive index. Thus, when light passes through the water filling the spaces and the cells, it only refracts through the liquid, without much being reflected. Without reflection, you can’t see any colors. The flower is like glass made of water.” source

and there’s also a beautiful song about this flower that i discovered while looking up for its name. i want to share some interpretations of the song because as i read, it touched my heart. lyrics translation here

“Jonghyun's entire song uses the extended metaphor of the skeleton flower to describe the relationship between external causes of grief and the internal strife they leave behind. Diphylleia grayi is a white flower that turns transparent when wet. Jonghyun likens this phenomnenon to the transformation of the outward effects of grief to an inward loneliness which cannot be seen but still remains.” source

an interpretation from a reddit entry: “I personally like this translation more: “Dear flower in front of me // With that deep scent that bewitched me // You lock me up in the room of eternity, so that I cannot find you, and simply smile your white artful smile.”

In the song, the skeleton flower represents the human experience of love and loss. When it gets drenched “in tears” it becomes invisible, meaning the regret and the pain - “of letting go knowingly” in this case - become invisible too. However, this pain and regret are still there even though we can’t see them. With time the importance of this experience changes: As his “fault” and his “regret” become invisible, the invisible skeleton flower in front of him, bewitches him with its scent and locks him in it for eternity, so that he can’t physically find this flower, which represents this particular fault and pain, ever again and he can “simply smile the flower’s white, artful smile” as time passes and things change. Basically meaning that all things pass, all things change over time, and pain becomes bearable (-> “With time, even the white petals will wither. Without remembering that they were once transparent”)”

another interpretation from another reddit entry: “Jonghyun mentioned on Blue Night that the song was inspired by the listener question that was something along the lines of, “Can you describe your feelings on life using nature?” Because of this and the lyrics, I’ve always interpreted it in a depression vein too, how sadness and emptiness can cause you not to see some of the more beautiful aspects of life - that it causes them to go invisible, dew on petals - but conversely seeing those beautiful parts of life makes it more painful when they end or are corrupted in some way, especially if it’s your own fault and inspires regret. It gives you something to cherish and then be ruined by your own hands, or others. It’s a song that, in my eyes, is a gorgeous representation of the dual-nature of vulnerability, how being open and exposed can bring joy in life but also agony, but letting those things go and becoming numb is its own hell. This is something I think everyone struggles with throughout their lives - I know I have - which is why I so frequently tear up at this song and the repetition of, “As time passes…” in the end.”

#diphylleia grayi #the skeleton flower #i was so scared that the pictures were ai generated and the flower doesn’t exist. but thankfully. it does exist #and it’s a beautiful flower🥺 i hope i can see it in real time one day. it’s added on my “flowers must to see once go to japan” list heh #and the song is also beautifully heartbreaking..... tears and souls‚ rain and flower’s petals #:(#sighs #🌸

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 23 hours ago

Text

chasing city lights

chapter 20 - sweet time erasing you

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, angst, i recommend listening to sad beautiful tragic while reading this...

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the girls all arrived to your place as fast as they could, finding you in a state.

"oh my god" kie said, taking you in. all the girls did nothing but hold you as you fell to the floor, heartbreaking sobs escaping you.

sarah pulled you into her arms as you completely broke down. kie and cleo followed, wrapping themselves around you like they could physically hold you together while your entire world was shattering.

“it’s okay,” sarah whispered, even though it wasn’t. “we’re here. we’ve got you.”

but nothing felt okay. nothing felt real.

your chest ached like someone had physically torn it open, leaving you raw and exposed. sobs racked your body, each one more painful than the last, and no matter how tightly the girls held you, it didn’t stop the emptiness from swallowing you whole.

“i—” you tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, another choked cry escaping instead.

“i know, y/n,” kie murmured, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “i know.”

but she didn’t. none of them did.

“i can’t-” shaking your head. “i can’t do this. it hurts. it hurts so much.”

sarah tightened her hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “i know, honey. i know it does.”

this wasn’t just heartbreak, this was losing him, losing everything.

"i don't know what to do." you cried.

"there's nothing you can do." cleo said, wiping your tears.

"i have no right to be upset, i broke up with him." you mumbled.

"you have every right to be upset." kie started, "this is raw, this is painful. you're going through heartbreak. allow yourself to feel this."

you swallowed hard, your breath still coming out in uneven gasps. "but what if he never loved me?" the words felt like glass in your throat, cutting you open on the way out.

sarah pulled back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowed, eyes filled with something close to anger. "don’t do that to yourself, y/n. you know he loved you."

"did��he?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "because it sure as hell didn’t take him long to replace me."

kie let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "that doesn’t mean what you two had wasn’t real. but you were the one who walked away. he was always going to do something reckless after that."

you wiped at your swollen eyes. "well, congrats to him. he fucking won. he destroyed me."

sarah cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. "no. you ended it because you knew you deserved better. and that’s the strongest thing you could have done."

kie squeezed your hand. “ heartbreak is messy. it doesn’t make sense. it tricks you into thinking you need someone who hurt you. but you don’t, y/n. you don’t need him.”

but you did. at least, that’s what it felt like.

rafe had been your everything. your home in a new city, your comfort, your person.

and now?

now, he was just someone kissing another girl on your phone screen.

fresh tears welled up in your eyes as you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself like you could physically hold in all the pain. “i hate him,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, not believing yourself.

because no matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. you hated how easily he seemed to let go. you hated that he got to be the one moving on while you were stuck here, picking up the pieces of something that had already shattered.

sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “you don’t have to be okay right now. but one day, you will be. and when that day comes, you’re gonna realise that you deserve so much more."

maybe one day, you’d believe that, but not today. not yet.

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a/n: i am very sorry about this one

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry @yesterdaysproblemm @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes@judesgfirl@4urvalidation@chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover@yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld@blushmimi @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety @wtfdudesblog @voidangxls @jjmaybankmylovee @munsoncultedits @emmiesummers @darlingstarkey @sassyvillaintrophy @pogueprincesa @stylestarkey @sodapopwaldorf

#chasing city lights #smau #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #boyfriend rafe #obxsmau #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx

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cutielando · 11 hours ago

Text

allergies | lando norris

synopsis: in which your allergies strike at the worst possible moment

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: lando norris x allergic!reader

my masterlist

The paddock was buzzing with energy, a familiar hum of excitement filling the air as mechanics moved swiftly, journalists weaved through the crowd, and fans pressed against barriers hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers.

It was just another race weekend, another high-stakes event where the roar of engines and the scent of burnt rubber set the scene.

You had been standing near the McLaren garage, chatting with some of the engineers when it started.

At first, it was subtle - a tickle in your throat, a slight tightness in your chest. You dismissed it, blaming the humidity or the strong scent of fuel lingering in the air.

But then it escalated.

Your breath hitched, throat constricting as a wave of panic surged through you. Your vision blurred slightly, and your skin felt like it was burning. It didn’t take long for the realization to sink in.

You were having an allergic reaction.

You had always been careful. Always checked what you ate, what you touched. But somehow, something had triggered it, and now you were in the middle of the paddock, struggling to breathe.

Your hands trembled as you clutched at your throat, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a wheeze.

Lando was in the middle of a media session when he caught sight of you. He saw the way your body wavered, the way your hand gripped the edge of a table for support.

His heart plummeted at the sight of you struggling to breathe.

“Wait, sorry” he muttered abruptly to the reporter in front of him before pushing through the crowd, his mind solely focused on you.

By the time he reached you, your knees had buckled.

He barely caught you in time, his arms wrapping around your frame as you gasped for air.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked frantically, his grip tightening around you as if holding you together would somehow make it stop. “Talk to me, love.”

You tried, but the words wouldn’t come. Your eyes were wide, filled with fear, and it made his own chest tighten painfully.

“Shit” he cursed, looking around. “She’s having an allergic reaction! Someone get help!”

A McLaren medic was already rushing toward you, an EpiPen in hand.

Lando refused to let go of you, holding you close as they administered the shot, his free hand brushing strands of hair away from your sweat-dampened forehead.

“You’re okay,” he murmured over and over, voice thick with worry. “I’ve got you.”

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Your breathing was still labored, but slowly - agonizingly slowly - it began to ease.

The tightness in your chest loosened, and the panic that had gripped your mind started to ebb away.

Lando exhaled sharply, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You scared the shit out of me” he said.

Your voice was hoarse when you finally spoke.

“Didn’t mean to” you said, an apologetic smile on your face despite what you had just gone through.

He let out a weak laugh, though his eyes were still clouded with concern.

“You’re never leaving my sight again” he stated, his tone stating it obvious that there was no room for questions or complaints.

The medics insisted on taking you to the medical center for further observation, and Lando was glued to your side the entire time, fingers laced tightly with yours.

He didn’t care about the race weekend, the press, or the cameras catching every moment of his worry - none of it mattered.

All that mattered was you.

And he wasn’t letting go.

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pbaz7 · 22 hours ago

Text

ONE SHOT: UNSPOKEN

paige x azzi

word count: 10.8k

A/N: Alright this one is a little different from what I usually do. I was struggling with ideas so I decided to try to mix it up 🫣. I also know everyone thinks Paige fell first so I wanted to switch it up a little bit in this. Let me know what you guys think please 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

“Unspoken” is a story about the quiet tension between two people who’ve spent years running from the truth—because sometimes, love isn’t about grand declarations or perfect timing. Sometimes, it’s about the fights, the moments when words fail, and the painful silence that surrounds all the things we’re too afraid to say.

Paige and Azzi had been best friends for as long as they can remember, but somewhere along the way, things started to change. The friendship they shared slowly morphed into something more complicated, something neither of them was ready to admit. The arguments, the jealousy, the misunderstandings, all became the backdrop for the truth they weren’t brave enough to confront.

This is the story of the moments that broke them down and built them up again—of the words that should have been said and those that should’ve never been spoken, the love that was hidden beneath the surface, and the way they both had to learn to fight for each other. Through every argument, every misstep, and every tear, they would come to realize one simple thing: they were in love with each other, and no amount of fear or uncertainty could change that.

These are the fights, the messy situations, that led them to the one thing they never expected to find—each other:

3rd Person POV - 2018 (DMV)

Azzi was sitting cross-legged on her bed, leaning back against the headboard while Paige lay sprawled on the floor, tossing a basketball in the air and catching it with lazy precision. Soft music was playing from Azzi’s speaker, filling the comfortable silence between them.

“You know,” Azzi said as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone, “I still don’t get how you eat so much junk and don’t feel like absolute trash afterward.” She was referencing how Paige didn’t seem to follow any diet, didn’t eat any vegetables, and just consumed whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Paige snorted, keeping her eyes on the ball as she flicked it up again. “I’m built different.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “That’s not a real answer.”

“It is if you accept it.”

Azzi grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her, but it landed nowhere near Paige causing the blonde to laugh while still focused on the ball. “You’re annoying,” Azzi muttered.

“Whatever bro. Why you beg me to come visit you then?”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “Clearly I gotta start setting higher standards for my friends.”

“Best friend,” Paige corrected.

Azzi grinned but didn’t argue. They’d been calling each other best friends since they met on Team USA, but sometimes—more recently than before–there was something underneath it that neither of them acknowledged. A weight in the way they talked to one another on FaceTime every night, the way they never went a day without talking, a different kind of warmth in the way they looked at each other.

In the midst of their conversation Paige’s phone buzzed. Then again. And again. She didn’t even glance at it, but Azzi heard it. “Damn,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Who's blowing you up?”

Paige kept her focus on the ball. “Dunno.”

Azzi smirked. “What, you too famous to check your phone now?”

Paige caught the ball and held it against her stomach, hesitating just long enough for Azzi to pick up on it.

Azzi sat up a little. “Wait. Who is it?”

Paige took a long exhale, staring at the ceiling for a second before mumbling, “It’s probably this girl.”

Azzi blinked. “This girl?”

Paige pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Yeah, prolly. She got my number from somebody and she just been texting me lately.”

Azzi’s lips twitched, her smirk faltering for just a second before she masked it with a laugh. “Ohhh, so Paige Bueckers has a girl on her line.” She nudged Paige’s leg with her foot. “Who is she?”

Paige shrugged. “Just someone I met at a tournament.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Do you like her or something?”

Paige shrugged, then sighed. “I don’t know. No?”

Azzi’s expression shifted slightly. The teasing edge in her voice was still there, but it didn’t quite match what was reflected in her eyes. “Wait, you actually want to talk to her?”

Paige frowned a little confused now. “I mean… I don’t not want to.”

Azzi scoffed quietly, shaking her head. “Wow. Okay.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Azzi said quickly, a little too quickly. She flopped back against her pillows, suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

Paige wasn’t buying it. “No, what was that?”

“Paige, nothing,” Azzi repeated.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Azzi come on bro.”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I just—why are you even telling me this?”

Paige frowned. “Because you’re my best friend? I tell you everything.”

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “Right. Best friend. Got it.”

Something about the way she said it made Paige’s stomach twist. She wasn’t sure why, but suddenly, the room felt… different. Tense. Like they had stepped too close to a line neither of them had ever acknowledged before.

“Why are you acting weird?” Paige asked, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi shook her head. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Azzi let out a breath. “Maybe because I just don’t want to hear about some girl trying to get with you.”

Silence. It felt like the silence between them stretched for an eternity.

The air between them was thick with a weight that neither of them had ever experienced when talking to one another. Azzi looked like she had just said something she wasn’t supposed to, and Paige—Paige couldn’t breathe.

“Why do you care?” Paige finally spoke, her voice much quieter than it usually is.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t. It’s just—you always say you don’t like distractions, but now some random girl is blowing up your phone, and you don’t mind?”

Paige frowned. “That’s not what I said Az.”

“It kinda is.”

Paige sat up now, her eyes slightly narrowed because of Azzi’s coldness. “Bro why you acting like I did something wrong? I was just tryna talk to you about it.”

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “Right. Like I want to hear about how some girl who's in the same state as you is into you and has been blowing your phone up.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know why, but the way Azzi was speaking made her chest feel tight. “So, what? I’m just not supposed to talk to you about stuff like this?”

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “No, maybe not.”

Paige blinked. “Azzi that’s ridiculous. We tell each other everything.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, well, maybe not everything.”

That hit Paige harder than she expected. She stared at Azzi, frustration bubbling under her skin. Azzi was her best friend. The one person in the world she felt like she could share anything with—who understood the pressure she felt everyday, was sitting here telling her that maybe they should stop telling each other everything. “Why are you being so weird about this? I didn’t do anything.”

Azzi’s head moved toward her direction. “I’m not being weird, Paige. I just—” She cut herself off, exhaling before pushing her hair out of her face in frustration. “You don’t get it.”

Paige threw her hands up. “No, I clearly don’t, so explain it to me! Because I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers picking at the blanket. Her expression was unreadable—like she was fighting with herself, torn between saying something and holding it back.

Paige pushed. “Azzi please.”

Azzi’s eyes met hers, and for the first time that night, she looked vulnerable. Exposed.

“You don’t get it,” Azzi said, softer this time, “because you don’t see the way anyone looks at you.” Azzi wasn’t just talking about other people. Paige had always had this pull, this undeniable presence that filled every room she stepped into. The way she carried herself, how naturally charismatic and genuine she was, made it impossible not to look. And people did look.

Azzi was no different. But Paige never seemed to notice.

Paige’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Azzi sighs, shaking her head. “Everyone wants a piece of you, Paige. In whatever way they can get you. Girls, guys, everyone.

Paige swallowed, her confusion giving way to an excitement at the possibility of what Azzi was insinuating. “Azzi…”

Azzi eyes flickering with something Paige couldn’t place. “I don’t want to hear about some girl trying to talk to you because I hate the idea of you talking to someone else.”

Paige’s heart pounded. She felt like the ground had just been ripped out from under her, like something she had been ignoring for months had just been shoved in her face.

She barely had time to process it, to respond properly before Azzi let out a shaky breath and muttered, “Forget it. Just—just ignore me.”

But Paige didn’t want to forget it, she couldn’t. Because suddenly, everything made sense—suddenly she didn’t feel like she was making things up in her head.

The lingering looks. The teasing that always felt a little too real.

Without thinking about the possible repercussions, Paige moved. One second, she was sitting on the floor staring at Azzi, heart racing, and the next, she was in front of her leaning in, closing the space between them.

Azzi inhaled sharply, her lips parting just slightly. For a split second, Azzi looked like she was going to pull away.

But then Paige kissed her.

It was hesitant, completely unsure, but the second their lips touched, something clicked. Like a spark igniting, like the answer to a question neither of them had been willing to ask.

Azzi sucked in a breath, and just for a second she kissed Paige back. But just as quickly as it happened, Azzi pulled away, eyes wide.

When she saw Azzi’s reaction Paige’s heart pounded, immediately throwing out, “I—I don’t know why I did that.”

Azzi swallowed, looking just as lost. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They stared at each other.

Finally, Paige let out a weak laugh. “Let’s just forget it.”

Azzi hesitated before nodding. “Yeah…Forget it.”

3rd Person POV - May 2020 (DMV)

It was the middle of quarantine, and time felt like it barely existed. Days blurred into nights, and the weeks passed without much distinction. Paige had been staying with Azzi and her family for a while now.

They had fallen into an easy rhythm. Workouts in the driveway, endless hours of TV, late-night talks in Azzi’s bed. There were also the moments in between now—those fleeting, stolen seconds where a look lingered too long, where an innocent touch didn’t quite feel so innocent. It had started slowly, almost accidental. A brush of hands, an arm around a shoulder that didn’t move away. Then one night, Paige kissed her again. And Azzi kissed her back.

Since then, it has been happening more often. Just making out here and there, like something they could pick up and drop whenever they wanted. But they never talked about it.

Now, they were lying in Azzi’s bed, bodies tangled in the way that came with knowing each other too well. Azzi’s head rested on Paige’s stomach, her fingers idly tracing the blanket while Paige was trying to spin the ball on her finger, though she was being extra careful considering Azzi was laying on her.

“You suck at that, by the way,” Azzi mumbled, watching the ball wobble slightly in Paige’s grip.

Paige scoffed. “You literally couldn’t do this for more than two seconds without launching it across the room.”

Azzi laughed. “That’s because I actually put some power into it. You’re just throwing it up like you’re scared it’s gonna fight back.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying sometimes, you know that?”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head slightly so she was looking up at Paige. “Yeah, but you love me anyway so I don’t really care.”

Paige froze for half a second before shaking her head, trying to play it off. “Debatable.”

Azzi laughed softly, but Paige didn’t miss the way her fingers stopped moving against the blanket when Paige froze. The pause lasted a little too long, and Paige suddenly felt like she should say something else—something light, something easy—but before she could, her phone buzzed in quick succession from somewhere on the floor.

Azzi turned her head toward the sound. “Damn. Someone’s popular.”

Paige didn’t even glance at it, still looking at Azzi. “It’s nothing.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know who it is.”

Paige shrugged. “If it was important, they’d call.”

Azzi watched her for a second, then turned her attention back to the ceiling. “Right. Or maybe it’s one of the many people who have been blowing up your comments lately.”

All of a sudden this conversation felt like deja vu and it made Paige’s stomach churn.

Paige sighed, rubbing her temple. “Azzi—”

Azzi kept going, her tone meant to be teasing, but there was something more serious beneath it that Paige picked up on. “I mean, I get it. UConn’s gonna be a whole new world for you. New team, new people, new girls—”

Paige groaned. “Bro oh my God.”

Azzi tilted her head again, keeping her voice light but her eyes too focused. “What? You’re telling me you’re not looking forward to all the attention you’re about to get?”

Paige sighed, gripping the basketball a little tighter. “I don’t care about allat.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

Paige frowned. “I don’t.”

Azzi changed her position slightly, resting her weight on her elbow as she looked at Paige. “So you’re telling me you don’t like all the attention? The DMs, the comments, the girls who’ve never met you throwing themselves at you?”

Paige let out a short laugh, not out of amusement but frustration. “Azzi, come on—”

“No, seriously.” Azzi’s voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—something Paige couldn’t quite place. “You’re not gonna sit here and act like you don’t eat that shit up.”

Paige gave her a confused look. “You act like I’m out here entertaining them. I’ve never responded to any of them.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not shutting them down either, so you clearly want it.”

Paige let out a long breath, shaking her head. “Come on Azzi, you’re my best friend, you know me better than that.”

Azzi scoffed, sitting up fully now, her back against the headboard. “Right.”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi looked at her. “It means I don’t know what the hell we’re doing anymore.”

Paige sat up fully too, the ball rolling off the bed as she turned to face Azzi. “What you mean?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Paige’s chest tightened, frustration building. “Get what? That you’re mad at me for something I didn’t even do? Something you think I might do?”

Azzi shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not mad at you, Paige. I just—” She exhaled. “Forget it.”

“No.” Paige’s voice was more firm now, her heartbeat picking up. “You don’t get to start something and then back out.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered with anger. “Oh, I’m the one starting something and backing out?” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s ironic.”

Paige groaned, throwing her head back. “Azzi, just talk to me instead of throwing around all this cryptic shit.”

Azzi held her gaze for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, before she could stop herself, she said it. “We keep kissing, Paige. We kiss a lot actually.”

Silence. Paige felt her stomach drop, her mouth suddenly dry.

Azzi shook her head, looking away—she couldn’t look at Paige while she said this. “And we never talk about it. We act like it doesn’t mean anything, and maybe to you, it doesn’t, but I—” She stopped herself, exhaling through her nose. “I just don’t get how you can sit here and act like none of it matters.”

Paige swallowed hard. “Azzi that’s not—”

Azzi turned back to her, her voice quieter now. “You’re leaving soon. And once you go, this—whatever this is, whatever we’re doing—it’s over, right?”

Paige’s throat felt tight, but she forced the words out anyway. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Azzi let out a long breath, shaking her head. “What does that mean, Paige?”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “It means we don’t have to stop just because I’m going to UConn.”

Azzi scoffed. “Right. So what? You want to keep doing what exactly? Keep flirting with me, kissing me but then pretending it doesn’t mean anything?”

Paige’s frustration spiked. “I never said it didn’t mean anything.”

“You sure as hell act like it.”

Paige ran a hand over her face, exhaling. “Az, I really don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say something for once instead of just kissing me and pretending it never happened.” Azzi’s voice was rising now, her usual calmness slipping. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending like it’s normal to make out with my best friend one second and then act like nothing happened the next.”

Paige shook her head. “You think this is easy for me?”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah. It must be so hard for you, Paige. Having somebody, with no labels, to makeout with whenever you want is so fucking hard. Meanwhile, I’m the one sitting here wondering if I’m just another one of your little distractions before you leave.”

Paige’s chest tightened. “That’s not fair. It’s not like that.”

Azzi stared at her. “Isn’t it?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. The air between them was tense, heavy with something unsaid, something neither of them had been brave enough to confront.

Finally, Paige exhaled, her voice quieter now. “Azzi, you’re not just—” She swallowed. “You’re not just some distraction.”

Azzi searched her face, eyes flickering between Paige’s. “Then what am I?”

Paige opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because she didn’t have an answer—at least, not one that wouldn’t change everything.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

Paige let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair. “Azzi please, come on.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “No. I’m done guessing, Paige.”

Paige’s frustration boiled over. “I don’t know how to say it, okay?”

“Say what, Paige?”

Paige clenched her jaw, her voice rising. “That I don’t want to leave! That I don’t want things to change! That I—” She cut herself off, exhaling hard.

Azzi’s gaze stayed locked on her, daring her to finish. “That you what?”

Paige shook her head, her pulse hammering. “I don’t know.”

Azzi threw her hands up. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You do know, Paige, you just don’t want to say it.”

Paige’s face burned with frustration. “Because once I do, it means something, Azzi. And I don’t—I don’t know how to deal with that. You barely know how to deal with it so you’re putting it on me.”

Azzi scoffed. “So instead, you’d rather just ignore it? Pretend like nothing’s happening between us?”

Paige ran a hand over her face, exasperated. “It’s not like that.”

Azzi crossed her arms. “Then what’s it like?”

Paige opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. She could feel it—all of it—boiling just under the surface, but every time she tried to pull it out, to say what she knew Azzi needed to hear, something inside her locked up.

Azzi shook her head. “You’re being a coward Paige.”

Paige’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Azzi didn’t back down. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No? Then prove me wrong.”

Paige’s frustration snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. Before she could stop herself, she was closing the distance between them, her hand gripping the back of Azzi’s neck as she pushed their lips together.

Azzi kissed back for a moment—just a moment—before she abruptly pushed Paige away, her breath coming fast. “No. You don’t get to do that.”

Paige looked stunned, her lips still tingling, her chest tight. “Azzi—”

“No,” Azzi snapped. “You don’t get to kiss me just to shut me up Paige. That’s not how this shit works.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, exhaling hard. “That’s not what I was doing, Azzi.”

“Really? Because that’s what it feels like. Every time we get remotely close to actually talking about this, you do something like that.”

Paige sighed. “I don’t know how to talk about this, baby.”

Azzi’s gaze softened for a split second before she shook her head. “Then figure it out, Paige. Because I can’t keep being the only one who actually wants to face it.”

Paige’s frustration cracked, desperation creeping into her voice. “I do want to face it—I just don’t want to lose you.”

“Then say something, Paige. Say anything that actually means something instead of trying to shove your tongue down my throat.”

Paige swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want to leave and pretend none of this ever happened. I don’t want you to think you’re just some—some phase or some mistake—some distraction.” She inhaled, her voice softer now. “I don’t want to lose you, Azzi.”

Azzi’s expression faltered for just a second before she let out a slow breath. “Paige…”

Paige shook her head, her chest tightening. “I just—I know I’m scared, Az. And shit’s about to be so different. I’m about to be in a different state, away from my family…away from you. There’s all these expectations and I haven’t even gotten on campus yet and I just—I need you Az. I need you more than anything and I’m scared that shit’s going to change between us, get weird and I can’t…I won’t be able to handle this without my best friend so I’ve just been—”

A sudden knock on the door cut her off.

Azzi’s mom’s voice came from the other side. “Everything okay in there?”

Azzi didn’t take her eyes off Paige. “Yes we’re fine.”

A brief pause. Then, “You sure? I heard yelling.”

Azzi sighed. “Mom, please.”

Silence. Then fading footsteps.

Azzi barely waited before she kissed Paige softly, melting into her.

3rd Person POV - October 2020 (Connecticut)

Azzi hadn’t planned on coming to Connecticut. At least, not until a few days ago when the idea of not being with Paige on her birthday started gnawing at her. The two of them talked every day, missed each other like crazy. Yes things were still… undefined. A mess of feelings that they had only began to sort through.

But none of that mattered right now. Because she was here.

Azzi pushed open the door to Ted’s, the warmth and noise of the packed bar hitting her immediately. She hadn’t even told Paige she was coming—she wanted to surprise her, wanted to see the look on her face when she realized Azzi had shown up for her birthday.

But the moment she stepped inside, her stomach twisted.

Paige was by the bar, a drink in her hand, laughter carrying over the music. She looked good—too good—her head tilted back slightly as she smiled at something one of her teammates said, Evina, if Azzi remembers correctly. But it wasn’t her teammates that caught Azzi’s attention. It was the other girls around her.

They were close. Too close.

One of them leaned into Paige clearly trying to get any form of contact she could from the blonde. Another one saying something to Paige, making her chuckle and shake her head no.

Azzi felt something burn in her chest.

She had spent the last few weeks missing Paige so much it physically hurt—she thought Paige was in the same boat. They called whenever they could, they texted, they danced around what they were, never putting a real label on it but still knowing, deep down, that whatever this was—it was real.

Yet, here was Paige, letting random girls touch her like it was nothing. Like they were nothing. In her anger Azzi didn’t even see the way Paige completely lit up when she noticed Azzi standing by the door. She didn’t notice that Paige immediately started walking towards her without even a whisper of an excuse to anyone around her.

Without thinking, Azzi turned on her heel and pushed back out the door.

“Azzi!”

Her heart clenched at the sound of her name, but she kept walking.

“Azzi, wait!”

Footsteps echoed against the pavement, and before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to stop.

Azzi exhaled harshly, staring straight ahead. “Go back inside, Paige.”

Paige stepped in front of her, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why did you leave?”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Are you serious?”

Paige’s expression flickered. “Azzi, it’s not what you think.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were having a pretty grand time.”

Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “They were just talkin to me.”

“Right.” Azzi shook her head, stepping back. “Just talking.”

Paige sighed, frustrated. “Yes Azzi, just talking. Why you acting like this? I'm happy to see you and you mad at me.”

Azzi shook her head as she started walking again.

Paige groaned again, stumbling slightly as she tried to step closer. "Azzi, come on." She reached for her, but Azzi sidestepped her touch.

"Don't."

Paige frowned, her drunk mind struggling to keep up. "Come on baby, why you so mad?"

Azzi scoffed. "Are you serious right now? You’re in there letting random girls be all over you, and I’m just supposed to be fine with it?"

Paige let out an exasperated laugh. "I wasn't letting them be all over me!"

Azzi crossed her arms. "Ohhh right, so they just tripped and landed on you?"

Paige rolled her eyes. "You’re blowing this out of proportion."

Azzi’s expression darkened. "No, I’m not."

Paige tried to reach for her again, but Azzi stepped back, hands pushing her away softly. "Azzi, stop pushing me."

"Then stop trying,".

Paige swayed slightly, blinking at her. "I’m just tryna get close to you. I miss you."

Azzi scoffed. "No, you want to charm your way out of this like you always do."

Paige let out a huff. "God, why are you making this such a big deal?"

Azzi’s eyes flashed before she took a breath to calm herself down. "Because you don’t take any of this seriously, Paige! You never do! You’re drunk and now you’re out here stumbling around to who knows where—"

Paige threw her hands up. "I’ve done a drunk walk around the block enough times to know where I’m going, Azzi."

"That’s not the flex you think it is, P."

Paige narrowed her eyes at her. "Why are you even here if you're just gonna yell at me?"

Azzi turned away again, but this time, Paige grabbed her arm.

"Azzi, please," Paige murmured, her grip tightening slightly.

Azzi clenched her jaw, as she looked at Paige not saying anything.

Paige let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t care about any of those girls, Az! I keep telling you that.”

“Really? Because it sure as hell didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”

Paige groaned, stepping closer again, ignoring the way Azzi kept putting space between them. “I wasn’t flirting with them! I was just talking. You’re acting like I was all over them.”

Azzi shot her a look. “It doesn’t matter if you weren’t all over them. They were all over you, and you just let it happen.”

Paige threw her hands up. “What did you want me to do? Shove them off me?”

Azzi exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re playing dumb.”

Paige shot back, “You’re the one who wanted to keep things open, remember? You said we should just see what happens—”

“And you agreed.”

Paige laughed. “Yeah, because that’s clearly what you wanted Azzi! But you’re standing here acting like I betrayed you or something.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed. “Because it feels like you did Paige!”

Paige’s chest rose and fell, her mind spinning, the alcohol making her words looser, her emotions heavier. “Azzi, I love you.”

Azzi froze for a long time. The silence stretched between them.

Finally she exhaled, shaking her head again. “You don’t mean that,” she said, voice quiet now. “You’re drunk. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Paige stepped closer to Azzi, pulling her closer, thankful when she didn’t push her away. “Az, I swear to god, I love you.”

Azzi looked at her, really looked at her, searching her face for something, but whatever she was looking for, she didn’t seem to find it.

She glanced away, running a hand through her hair, her voice carefully even. “Let’s just go back to your party P.”

Paige blinked, her chest tightening. “Azzi—”

Azzi turned back toward the bar without another word, and Paige stood there, her heart still racing, wondering if she just said too much or not enough.

Once they stepped back inside, although Paige was hurt she didn’t let it show, she refused to let Azzi leave her side.

She kept an arm draped around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her close as they navigated through the crowd. Any time someone so much as looked at her for too long, Paige would shift closer, pressing against Azzi in a way that made it clear who she wanted to be with.

Azzi didn’t pull away, but she didn’t fully lean into it either. She let Paige guide them through the bar, let her wrap an arm around her waist when they stopped at the table with the team, let her fingers linger on Azzi’s wrist when she reached for her drink. She let it all happen, but she didn’t say much throughout the night.

Paige didn’t care. She was determined to prove to her that she meant what she said.

She made sure Azzi was the only one she talked to, the only one she looked at, the only one she danced with when someone dragged them toward the music. When another girl tried to get her attention, Paige didn’t even glance her way—she just tightened her hold on Azzi, whispering something against her ear that made Azzi huff out a breath, something between exasperation and amusement.

Still, Azzi didn’t fully acknowledge any of it. Either she didn’t want to believe it, or she truly didn’t, but she didn’t ruin Paige’s night. She let Paige stay curled up against her in the booth, let her play with the hem of her sleeve absentmindedly, let her rest her chin on her shoulder. And when Paige officially got too drunk—when her words started slurring and her steps became unsteady—Azzi laughed softly, shook her head, and silently helped her out of the bar.

As they walked back to Paige’s dorm, Paige clung to Azzi like she was her lifeline. One arm was slung around Azzi’s shoulders, the other gripping her hand, fingers laced like she was afraid to let go. And she wouldn’t stop talking.

“I love your laugh so much,” Paige mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Like, really love it. It’s stupid how much I love it.”

Azzi sighed, adjusting her grip on Paige’s waist as they walked forward. “Paige—”

“And your eyes.” Paige ignored her, tightening her hold. “God, your eyes, Az. You ever look in the mirror? Like, really look? They’re so pretty. Sometimes I get distracted when you’re talking ‘cause I just—” She made an exaggerated hand motion as she hiccuped. “I get lost in ‘em.”

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “Paige, please stop talking.”

“No.” Paige pouted, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. You—you act like I don’t care, like I don’t see you, but I do. I see everything, Az.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She kept walking, gripping Paige a little tighter, but Paige kept going.

“You always smell good,” Paige mused, like it was a secret. “Like, stupidly good. It’s unfair.” She buried her face into Azzi’s shoulder dramatically, inhaling deeply. “Like right now? It’s ridiculous. What even is that? Do you live in vanilla or some shit?”

Azzi huffed out a breath, looking up at the sky like she was begging for patience. “Paige.”

“And you’re so good, Az,” Paige continued, voice softer now. “You take care of me, even when I don’t deserve it. Even when I’m stupid or drunk or messing everything up. I don’t know why you do it, but you do.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. Paige doesn’t know how much Azzi wanted to hear this, how long she had been waiting to hear this. Azzi just wishes that Paige had the guts to say it when she wasn’t drunk. When Azzi could believe that she truly meant what she was saying. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do,” Paige argued, stopping in her tracks and pulling Azzi with her. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I just—I never say it.” She frowned, blinking blearily up at Azzi as she swayed a little and swallowed another hiccup. “And that’s my fault. But I do love you, Az. You have to know that.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against Paige’s waist. She wanted to believe her. Wanted to let herself feel everything Paige was saying. But she couldn’t. Not like this.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Come on,” she mumbled, tugging Paige forward again. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Paige stumbled a little as they kept walking, but her grip on Azzi never wavered as she continued rambling.

“All I want is you,” Paige murmured. “I don’t care about anyone else…anything else Az. Just you.”

Azzi kept her gaze ahead, “Paige—”

“No, listen.” Paige stopped walking again, forcing Azzi to stop with her. “You know how I know?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “I’d rather you not tell me right now but I’m sure you’re going to anyway.”

Paige’s lips parted, and her eyes, though glassy, were full of something real. “Because every time I think about somebody else having you, getting to see the sides of you I see, I feel sick. Physically sick. And I know that’s selfish as shit, but I don’t care. I don’t want anyone else to have you, Az. I want you.”

Azzi inhaled sharply, her stomach twisting. “Paige, you’re drunk.”

“So what?” Paige challenged, stepping closer. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

Azzi exhaled, looking away. “Please just drop it, okay? Let me get you inside.”

“No.” Paige’s fingers curled into Azzi’s hoodie, tugging her closer. “Do you love me?”

Azzi completely froze. Her grip on Paige faltered just slightly before she realized how much of her weight she was holding and she adjusted her grip again.

Paige searched her face desperately, her voice quieter now, more fragile. “Az. Do you?”

Azzi swallowed, forcing herself to pull away slightly. “Paige, drop it.”

Paige shook her head stubbornly making herself slightly dizzy. “No. I need to know.”

Azzi clenched her jaw, looking anywhere but at Paige as she closed her eyes, forcing the tears not to fall. “Not like this please baby.”

Paige’s breath hitched. “Azzi—”

“Not like this, Paige,” Azzi repeated, her voice strained. “You’re drunk. You won’t even remember half of this tomorrow.”

Paige’s face crumpled like the words physically hurt her. “That’s not fair.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, her heart hammering. “Come on,” she whispered, reaching for Paige’s hand again and squeezing it when they laced their fingers together. “Let’s go.”

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting a glow over the tangled sheets and the two bodies nestled together beneath them. Paige groaned, blinking against the light, the ache in her head reminding her just how much she had to drink the night before. But that wasn’t what made her chest feel tight. All the memories came rushing in—every drunken confession, every plea for Azzi to just say it back. And she remembered that Azzi never did. But she remembered how Azzi basically carried her home last night. How as soon as she laid down the room started spinning so Azzi helped her to the bathroom and held her hair. She remembers how Azzi basically brushed her teeth for her. How Azzi kissed her goodnight before pulling the cover over both of them.

And now Azzi is still here. Still wrapped around her, holding her like she didn’t want to let go.

Paige swallowed hard, keeping her eyes closed as she breathed in Azzi’s familiar scent, letting herself pretend—for just a little longer—that everything was okay. That last night hadn’t hurt. LIke it didn’t hurt all over again to remember it as soon as she woke up.

Azzi shifted slightly, her fingers instinctively curling against Paige’s side. A quiet hum left her lips before she finally blinked awake, her gaze finding Paige’s.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

Paige forced a small smile. “Morning.”

They stayed like that for a moment, neither making a move to pull away. If anything, they only inched closer, their noses nearly brushing.

Azzi exhaled softly, eyes flickering down to Paige’s lips. “I missed you so much P.”

Paige’s breath caught, the words sinking deep. She knew Azzi meant more than just the past few hours.

“Yeah?” Paige whispered.

Azzi nodded, her fingers tightening against Paige’s waist. “Yes.”

Paige didn’t answer with words. Instead, she closed the distance, pressing her lips to Azzi’s like she’d been craving it for months. Azzi melted instantly, sighing into the kiss, her arms pulling Paige in until there was no space left between them.

“I missed you too,” Paige mumbled against her lips, kissing her again. “So much.”

Azzi didn’t say anything about the night before—maybe because she still thought Paige didn’t remember, or maybe because she just didn’t have the words. But in the way she held Paige, in the way she kissed her back like she wanted to make up for every second they’d spent apart, she didn’t have to, at least not yet.

3rd Person POV - August 2021 (Connecticut)

They’re at Ted’s, music humming through the bar, the air humid with warmth and alcohol. Paige is sitting by the bar, talking to a girl she barely knows, just answering her questions out of politeness.

Paige didn’t even notice the girl at first. She was too caught up in the warmth of the bar, the buzz of alcohol in her system, and the presence of Azzi right next to her. They had been standing close, shoulders brushing, Azzi’s arm loosely draped over the back of Paige’s stool as Paige whispered something to her that made her laugh and glance in the direction Paige was referring to.

It wasn’t anything unusual. They always hovered near each other like this, caught in that undefined space between everything and something.

The girl came up while Paige was mid-laugh, leaning into Azzi’s side, but when the girl spoke, Paige straightened slightly, offering a polite smile.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you—I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan.”

Paige smiled. “Oh, thanks, I appreciate that.”

Azzi didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the girl, just sipped from her drink while watching the interaction unfold.

“I actually had a couple questions—if that’s okay?” the girl asked, shifting slightly closer.

Paige shrugged, always happy to talk about basketball and never wanting to be rude to fans. “Yeah, of course.”

It was harmless at first. Just the usual questions about the team, how she felt about the upcoming season. Paige answered them easily, glancing at Azzi every so often as if expecting her to chime in. But Azzi stayed silent, Paige just assumed she was lost in her own thoughts.

“So, are you single?”

Paige barely hesitated before answering, because technically, she was.

“Yeah.”

Azzi scoffed. It was quiet, but Paige heard it.

Paige blinked at Azzi. “What?”

Azzi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Nothing.”

But Paige knew her too well. She could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she clenched her jaw.

“Azzi.” Paige’s voice was slightly louder now, calling her back, but Azzi was already moving, shaking her head.

Paige stood too, stepping closer. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?”

The girl who had asked the question awkwardly shifted away, sensing the sudden shift in mood, but Paige barely noticed.

Azzi tilted her head, lips curling into something almost amused but not quite. “You didn’t even think about it. You just answered.”

Paige scoffed. “Because it’s not a fucking trick question, Azzi.”

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “Right. Because you’re so single.”

Paige exhaled sharply, suddenly feeling hot—from the alcohol, from frustration, from Azzi.

“I mean, yeah, I am.” She crossed her arms, brows furrowing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Azzi’s expression flickered, something flashing through her eyes too quickly for Paige to catch. “Forget it.”

She turned on her heel, heading toward the door.

Paige followed without thinking, voice rising. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like I did something wrong when you’re the one who—”

Azzi spun around so fast Paige nearly ran into her.

“Not here.”

Her voice was lower now, but Paige could still hear the edge to it.

For a second, they just stood there, eyes locked.

Then, without another word, Azzi reached out, grabbed Paige’s wrist, and pulled her toward the exit.

The cold air hit Paige’s skin, a sharp contrast to the heat burning in her chest. Azzi dropped her wrist the second they were outside, pacing a few steps away before turning back, her eyes dark.

Paige exhaled hard, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, tell me what the hell that was.”

“Are you serious right now?”

Paige threw her arms out. “Yes, Azzi! I don’t get why you’re so upset over a question I didn’t even lie about.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. “You answered it so easily.”

“Because it was easy!” Paige shot back, voice rising. “I am single! That’s what you wanted, right? You were the one who wanted to keep things open during your first few months here, so what the hell do you want from me?”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You could’ve at least hesitated. Said you weren’t available.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you’re mad about? You wanted me to sit there and stutter for you? For what?” She stepped closer. “I didn’t even want the fucking girl, Azzi. I don’t want any of them. But you—you don’t want to commit, so I go along with it. I always go along with whatever you want.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Paige shot back. “You don’t get to be mad at me when you’re the one holding all the cards. You always have.”

Azzi let out a breath, her expression faltering for a second. “Paige, you’re drunk.”

“No shit. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, Azzi.”

Azzi turned away, shaking her head like she was trying to shut this all out. But Paige wasn’t done.

“You don’t want me to say I’m single? Fine, I won’t.” Paige took another step forward. “You want me to ignore every girl who looks at me? Fine, I’ll do that too.” She threw her hands up. “Hell, Azzi, just tell me what you want, and I’ll fucking do it! Because that’s what I always fucking do.”

Azzi’s nostrils flared as she turned back. “That’s not true, Paige. I don’t control you.”

Paige let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Azzi stayed silent, her eyes darting over Paige’s face like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

Paige exhaled shakily before lowering her voice. “You wanna know what really pisses me off about this whole thing Azzi?”

Azzi swallowed. “What?”

“I told you I loved you.” Paige’s voice cracked, just slightly.

Azzi stiffened.

“Ten months ago, Az.” Paige let out a humorless breath, shaking her head. “I told you, and you didn’t say it back.”

Azzi’s face fell, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

Paige scoffed, blinking harshly. “You’re pissed over some girl asking me if I’m single, but you—” Her voice wavered, her chest tightening. “You couldn’t even fucking answer me that night.”

Azzi swallowed again, her throat bobbing. “Paige, I—”

“No.” Paige cut her off. “You don’t get to be mad at me for answering a question honestly when you—when you couldn’t even fucking answer me.”

Silence.

Azzi’s fingers twitched at her sides like she wanted to reach for Paige, like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

Azzi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “You only say this shit when you’re drunk.”

Paige’s head snapped up, her frustration boiling over. “God, Azzi, you always use that as fucking excuse! Like I’m blackout or something, like I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” She took a step closer. “But I do. I always do. I always remember”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Paige you can’t just—”

“No, Azzi.” Paige cut in, her breath unsteady. “I meant it then, and I mean it now. But you—you act like none of it counts. Like my feelings don’t count unless I say them exactly when you want me to.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, looking away for a second before finally meeting Paige’s eyes again. The fight in her expression dulled, replaced by something softer, something tired.

“Can we just—” Azzi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Can we just talk at home please?”

Paige hesitated, her chest still tight, her hands still curled at her sides. She wanted to keep pushing, to make Azzi see how much this hurt. But instead, she exhaled hard and gave a slow nod. “Okay.”

Azzi didn’t say anything else, just reached for Paige’s wrist again, this time with less force, guiding her away from the bar and toward the dorms.

And even though the argument had paused, the tension between them hadn’t gone anywhere.

…

The door shuts behind them, but neither of them speaks at first. Paige walks to the bed, sitting down, her head still spinning from alcohol and frustration. Azzi lingers near the door, back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest like she’s bracing herself.

She doesn’t look at Paige when she finally breaks the silence. “Why do you never say any of this when you’re sober?”

Paige lets out a long breath, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Az.” She drops her gaze back down, meeting Azzi’s eyes. “But does it even matter?”

“Yes. It does.”

Paige scoffs, shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t. Because whether I say it drunk or sober, it’s still the truth.”

Azzi shifts against the wall before saying, “You think that’s the same thing?”

Paige leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yes! I always know what I’m saying, Az. I’m not just making shit up.”

Azzi looks away, jaw tight. Paige watches her carefully, then sighs, voice dropping. “Do you even care?”

Azzi’s head snaps toward her. “Of course I care.”

Paige pushes, her frustration mounting. “Then say something more than that. Say something more than just telling me that what I’m saying doesn’t matter because I’m drunk.”

Paige sees it—the hesitation, the walls going up. It makes her stomach twist. It’s almost ironic how much of a 180 they’ve done. It used to be Azzi begging Paige to say something, to give her a hint of how she felt.

Paige lets out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “See? This is what you do. You never say anything. You never let me know where I stand with you, but the second someone asks me if I’m single, suddenly it’s a problem? Suddenly all hell breaks loose.”

Azzi’s brow furrows. “That’s not—”

“No, that’s exactly what this is!” Paige cuts her off, her voice rising. She leans forward, frustration spilling out. “You get upset, but you won’t tell me why. You won’t tell me what you want. Just—tell me how you feel, Azzi. Please.”

The silence between them stretches, heavy and suffocating. Paige waits, her heart hammering, but Azzi stays frozen, her throat bobbing as she struggles for words.

Paige lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

She pushes herself up from the bed, ready to walk away. “Forget it. I need to cool off.”

Azzi’s eyes snap to her, panic flashing across her face. “Paige, this is your room.”

Paige shrugs, not turning back. “I’ll be back, I just—I need a minute.”

But before she can reach the door, Azzi moves.

Her hand wraps around Paige’s wrist—not forcefully, just enough to stop her. Azzi swallows hard, her grip tightening slightly. She could speak now. She could say what Paige wants to hear. But the words don’t come.

Instead, she pulls Paige toward her and kisses her.

It’s hesitant at first, uncertain, but when Paige doesn’t pull away, Azzi deepens it, her hands moving to Paige’s waist, fingers pressing into her like she’s afraid she’ll let go.

Paige exhales into the kiss, her frustration melting away into something softer like it always did with Azzi. After a second she starts to pull back, trying to say something, but Azzi doesn’t let her.

Azzi chases her lips, pressing closer, her breath shaky. As if she’s scared for the moment to end as if she’s terrified to lose Paige.

She can’t find the words, but she can show her. She wants Paige to feel what she’s been too scared to say. So she kisses her harder and this time, Paige doesn’t try to stop her.

Azzi walks them backward, guiding Paige toward the bed. Paige barely has time to register it before the backs of her knees hit the edge, and she’s falling onto the mattress, leaning up on her elbows, breath uneven.

Her pupils are blown wide as she stares up at Azzi, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Azzi reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.

Paige freezes.

Her mouth parts slightly, and for a second, she just stares—completely awe-struck. The way the lighting casts soft shadows along the curves of Azzi’s body, the way her hair falls slightly over her shoulder—it makes Paige dizzy.

Azzi holds her gaze, searching for hesitation, but Paige’s hands are already moving before she can think—gripping Azzi’s waist, pulling her forward.

Azzi exhales softly before climbing onto Paige’s lap, settling over her with ease.

Then she kisses her again.

Paige’s hands travel up Azzi’s back, fingertips pressing softly into her skin as Azzi deepens the kiss, pouring every unspoken word into it.

She doesn’t need to say it. Not now. Not when she can show Paige exactly what she means.

And Paige?

She lets her.

She lets herself fall.

She always has.

Azzi pulls away just enough for their lips to part, her breath warm against Paige’s skin. Her fingers tremble slightly where they rest against Paige’s ribs.

“P, I’ve never—”

Paige nods up at her before she can finish, already knowing. Understanding.

“We can stop,” Paige murmurs.

But Azzi shakes her head. “No. Not this time.”

Paige’s eyes search hers for any uncertainty, but there isn’t any.

So she nods, allowing Azzi to pull her shirt over her head, letting it fall somewhere to the side.

Azzi’s hands roam over Paige’s skin, like she’s memorizing every inch, like she’s seeing it in a new light.

Then, with gentle certainty, Paige flips them over, caging Azzi beneath her.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” she whispers, hovering above her, eyes locked onto Azzi’s.

Azzi doesn’t respond with words. She just reaches up, pulling Paige down into another kiss, hands tangling into her hair.

3rd Person POV - 2021 (Connecticut)

Paige had always been the one who struggled with communication. She was the one who avoided hard conversations, who buried her feelings beneath layers of sarcasm and easy distractions. Azzi was the opposite—she talked things through, making sure nothing was left unsaid. That’s just how they worked.

But now? Now everything was upside down.

After that night, Paige had expected something—anything—from Azzi. A conversation. A reassurance. Even an acknowledgment. Instead, she got silence.

Azzi didn’t disappear, not physically. They still saw each other every day. They still sat together at meals, still warmed up side by side at practice, still lingered in each other’s spaces. But something had shifted. Azzi wasn’t looking at her the same way. She wasn’t teasing her, wasn’t touching her the way she used to. She was there, but not really.

At first, Paige tried to talk about it. She gave Azzi easy openings, little moments where she could have said something.

"You good?" she’d asked one morning after practice, nudging Azzi’s knee under the table at breakfast.

"Yeah, just tired," Azzi replied, keeping her eyes down on her plate.

Another time, they were laying together on the bed and Paige mentioned, "We should talk, don’t you think?"

"About what?" Azzi asked, and Paige had felt something inside her crack.

After a few days of trying, Paige stopped. She told herself that maybe Azzi needed space. That maybe she was overthinking it. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t.

Azzi was retreating. And for the first time, Paige was the one left reaching.

The worst part? It hurt like hell.

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that the reason Azzi wouldn’t talk about it was because she regretted it.

That maybe she didn’t love Paige back. That maybe she had gotten everything wrong.

So Paige gave her space. She stopped trying, stopped pushing. If Azzi wanted to pretend nothing had changed, then fine.

Still, the distance between them was suffocating. And with each passing day, resentment started to fester.

Like always it came to a head at Ted’s.

The bar was packed, the music loud, but Paige barely noticed any of it. She was a few drinks in, lingering at the bar with some girl from who knows where—she didn’t even remember her name. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested. She was just there, going through the motions, trying not to think about the way Azzi had been avoiding her for days. Paige knew she shouldn’t have let this girl get this close, knew she shouldn’t even be talking to her. But she wanted to get a reaction out of Azzi and she knew this was a sure way to do it.

She knew it worked when she felt that familiar gaze burning into her skin.

Azzi was a few steps away, sitting with their teammates, her jaw tight, fingers gripping her drink a little too hard. Paige wasn’t sure how long Azzi had been watching, but she could see it—the tension in her shoulders.

Just as Paige let out a small laugh at something the girl beside her said Azzi was next to her.

"Didn’t take you long to move on."

Paige turned slowly, her brows drawing together. "What?"

“Nothing. Just didn’t think you’d be so... quick about it."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked, her voice carrying over the music.

Azzi shrugged, bringing her drink to her lips. "I mean, you’re single, right? Just living it up finally."

"You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like you care when you’re the one who's spent the last few weeks acting like nothing happened."

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak, clenching her jaw to stop herself.

Paige shook her head. "No, say it. Say what you’ve been thinking. Because I know you, Azzi.

“Maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe I just don’t have anything to say."

"Bullshit." Paige took a step closer, her voice rising. "You always have something to say. Except now."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening.

Paige shook her head, “You’re such a fucking coward sometimes Az.”

Azzi flinched.

Paige knew it was a low blow, but she didn’t care.

Azzi’s eyes darkened and hurt flashed across her face before she said something she knew would hurt Paige. "Maybe letting you fuck me was a mistake."

Silence. Paige felt the words settle. The bar blurring around her.

Azzi’s expression immediately shifted when she realized how far she went, like she hadn’t meant to say it, like she wished she could take it back.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing a laugh even as her chest ached. "At least now I finally know where I stand."

Azzi opened her mouth, but Paige didn’t wait for whatever excuse was coming. She turned on her heel and walked out, pushing past bodies, her vision hazy.

The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the suffocating heat inside the bar, but Paige barely noticed. She was too focused on getting away, her feet moving fast down the sidewalk.

But before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Paige, wait. I’m sorry."

Paige whipped around, yanking her arm free. "For what, Azzi? What the hell do you want from me?"

Azzi stood there, breathing hard, her eyes wild under the streetlights. "I’m so sorry, I—just—can we talk?"

"Talk? Now you wanna talk? After you stood in there and called what we had a fucking mistake?"

Azzi flinched. "I didn’t mean that."

"But you said it…And you know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was a mistake. Not because of what we did, but because I was stupid enough to think you actually wanted this. Wanted me."

Azzi ran a hand down her face, frustration rolling off her in waves as tears pooled in her eyes. "God, Paige, you act like this is so easy for me."

Paige’s nostrils flared. "It is! It’s the easiest thing in the fucking world! I love you, Azzi! And I don’t understand why that’s so damn hard for you to accept, to believe me. But you don’t give a fuck so it really doesn’t matter.”

Azzi’s face twisted with something Paige couldn’t figure out—guilt, fear, longing. Maybe all of it.

"I never said I didn’t care."

Paige let out a sharp breath. "You didn’t have to. You shut down. You ran. You left me with nothing, Azzi. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to give you space, hoping you’d come to me when you were ready. But all I got was silence."

Azzi shook her head, stepping closer. "I didn’t know what to do."

"You didn’t know what to do?!" Paige’s voice cracked, her hands trembling. "How about telling me the fucking truth? How about choosing me?"

Azzi exhaled heavily "I was fucking terrified, okay?"

"Of what?" Paige threw her arms out. "Loving me? Because, newsflash, Azzi, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have pushed me away the second things got real."

Azzi’s eyes flashed with something desperate and before she could stop herself, the words spilled out of her mouth.

"I do love you Paige."

It came out like a confession, like a plea. Like something she had been trying so damn hard to bury but couldn’t hold back any longer.

Paige stilled. Her breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, shaking her head. "No, you don’t."

Azzi stepped forward, looking at her like she was everything, like she was terrified to lose her. "Paige—"

Paige turned on her heel, ready to leave, to put as much distance as possible between herself and Azzi before she shattered completely. But Azzi wasn’t letting her go this time.

She grabbed Paige’s wrist again, but this time, she didn’t just hold her back—she pulled her in. Pulled her close, so close that Paige could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sheer panic radiating off her.

"Paige, please." Azzi’s voice cracked, and something about it—about the way she said her name like it was her last lifeline—made Paige freeze.

Azzi’s hands were trembling as she clutched at Paige’s arms. She wasn’t running now. She wasn’t shutting down. She was unraveling.

"I don’t know how to do this," Azzi admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to love you without losing myself."

Paige swallowed hard, her anger slowly being replaced with concern. "Azzi—"

"No, let me say this." Azzi took a deep breath, blinking rapidly, a few tears rolling down her cheek. "I’m always so calculated. So in control. And then you come along, and suddenly I can’t even think straight half the time. You—" she exhaled shakily "—you scare the shit out of me, P."

Paige’s brows pulled together, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice. "Azzi, I would never hurt you."

Azzi let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking her head. "That’s the problem. You could. You did for a little bit. When I was completely in love with you and I had to be your best friend and listen to you telling me about how you slept with someone else for the first time. That’s when I realized you could break me, Paige. How you could ruin my entire world and that terrifies me more than anything."

Paige’s breath caught.

"I didn’t pull away because I don’t love you," Azzi admitted, her voice trembling. "I pulled away because I love you too much. Because the moment I let myself have you, I knew I’d never want to let you go. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live without you and I didn’t know what to do with that."

Paige felt the last of her anger drain away, leaving only understanding in its place because she had gone through that exact same thing.

Azzi wasn’t scared because she didn’t love her. She was scared because she did.

Deeply. Completely.

Paige reached up, cupping Azzi’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don’t have to know what to do. You just gotta trust me Az. Trust that maybe we can figure it out together."

Azzi’s lips parted, her breath shaky, and then she kissed her.

Not out of desperation. Not out of fear. Paige hesitated at first, a split second of uncertainty passing through her, but then she melted into it, her hands sliding around Azzi, squeezing her like she’d never let go. Her entire body was trembling, but not from the usual anger or frustration. This was something else. Something deeper, more vulnerable.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about passion alone. It was about everything—everything they had been through, everything they wanted to be together. It was everything they’d both been afraid to admit.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I love you." Azzi whispered it so softly, as if the words had been buried for years, locked away in a place she’d never dared to go. "I’ve always loved you. I’ve loved you since I was 15. I just didn’t know how to say it."

Paige’s breath hitched. She felt a lump in her throat, a quiet sob wanting to escape, but she swallowed it down. She leaned into Azzi, her forehead still against hers, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky exhale. "Then please don’t run this time. Just let me love you, Azzi—because I—I love you so much baby. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize as fast as you did. That I—"

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Paige’s she shook her head no slowly, her hands tightening around Paige’s waist. "It doesn’t matter. I promise I’m not going anywhere anymore."

…

It wasn’t the quiet moments that made them realize they were in love.

Not the nights tangled together in bed, whispering into the darkness, even when they weren’t officially anything.

Not the stolen glances or the lingering touches, the warmth of Azzi’s childhood bedroom where they figured themselves out.

Not the laughter, the tenderness, or the countless times they looked at each other like they held the entire world in their hands. When Paige dropped everything to be at Azzi’s side. When they’d wake up early and just smile at one another.

No—those were the moments they fell.

But this—this was when they knew.

It was in the arguments, in the breaking points. In the way their love made them reckless, made them desperate, made them vulnerable in ways they had never been before. It was in the fear, in the unbearable weight of knowing that the other had the power to destroy them completely.

Loving each other was never the risk. Letting themselves be loved back—that was.

But in the end, it was these moments—the raw, painful, necessary ones—that led them home to each other. That made it possible for them to be steady and completely content in one another when the attention started flying their way as they grew up.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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sungbites · 3 days ago

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NA JAEMIN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

pairing : bf!jaemin x gf!reader genre : est relationship, pure fluff warnings : petnames, crying, kissing, and not proofread synopsis : headcannons that bf!jaemin would do wc : 1k a/n : yes this is a reupload but u guys are being fed <3 to preface this is a reupload from my account @ pshbites, this is the original and it is my work. i only have these two accounts and if there is any other account impersonating me, it is not me.

texting you for no reason. jaemin loves telling you everything. whether it be miniscule or important, it didn’t matter because you would know. some days he would text you while you’re at work and tell you what he’s currently doing. sometimes it’s sweet things like “saw a flower and i thought of you” or sometimes it’s just the most random things like how many red cars he saw that day (it was 5). he always tells you and you reciprocate his excitement with each detail. each text rant always ends in him confessing his everlasting love for you like he always does and of course, you reciprocate it in the exact way he said it to you.

jaem: i miss you

jaem: my baby precious yn i always love you

jaem: can’t wait to have dinner with you tonight, are you excited

jaem: i’m making your favorite princess

jaem: where are you :((((

jaem: maybe you’re driving to the office :/

jaem: drive safe baby love you

you: i miss you more

you: i was driving :) but im now in the parking lot of the office

you: and of course i’m excited for dinner baby

you: my jaem i love you so much more than words can express

you: see you tonight <33

jaem: see you princess <3333

putting you first. there would be times where the two of you would be out and about with your group of friends. jaemin would be talking to them and enjoying his time but he looks towards you and you just aren’t feeling it anymore. right then and there jaemin would decide to leave and call it a night because you aren’t enjoying yourself. he always prioritizes you over himself and some problems come with that but most of the time you know he’s doing it out of the kindness of his heart.

leaving traces of you around his apartment. the two of you don't share an apartment so sometimes you sleepover at jaemins apartment or hang out there. since you already spend so much time there, you leave behind things. it started out small like a hair tie or a jacket but then it started becoming your slippers or a set of your pajamas. once jaemin started to notice, he cleared out a drawer for you and set all your items in there. partially he did it so you didn’t rummage through his things to find your own but at the same time he did it because it felt that a piece of you was still there when you weren’t. because of this he started collecting your things in that drawer but would always display some trinkets or stuffed animals you left on his bed. he also developed a love for stuffed animals because you adored them so much so he began buying them to put on his bed so you would be more at home. his first priority is to always make you comfortable.

buying anything that reminds him of you. your bedside counter was filled with random trinkets jaemin bought for you simply because it looked like you. you weren’t sure how a peacock with a white scarf resembled you but jaemin did know. he saw you in every detail of his life so if something reminded him of you he would buy it without question and give it to you that very day. in your collection you had all sorts of things and sometimes it was a hassle to arrange them all while cleaning but you never complained because how could you complain to that sweet face.

always having you in arms reach. when you and jaemin were in public with your other friends he always had you close to you, not for any possessive reason but because he always craved your touch. he always had to be touching you in anyway possible, whether that be your hand intertwined with his or his hand on your thigh or anything. he always wanted to be close to you because it grounded him, it wasn’t like you minded either. you loved how clingy he gets when you aren’t right next to him, it was cute. while having you in arms reach he draws circles on you, or writes his name on that spot over and over, engraving it in your soul. he loves seeing you try and ignore it but failing miserably.

kisses when you least expect it. most of the time jaemin always kissed your cheek before you left his apartment or left a date to go somewhere, but sometimes he would catch you off guard and kiss your lips. in these moments you felt jaemins tender love the most, his lips always touched yours with the utmost affection he could give. his hand would rest on your hip before he pulls back and smiles, saying goodbye. clearly he didn’t know what effect he had on you because the rest of the day you would lightly graze your lips, smiling at the thought of him.

laughing along to your contagious laughter. something about your laugh does it for jaemin, it doesn’t matter if the joke you told wasn’t entirely funny but hearing your laughter is like a sweet melody, he starts to smile and laugh along with you. he loves these moments with you because he sees a sparkle in your eyes, making him smile so sweetly at you before he begins to laugh along. to jaemin anytime you smiled or laughed, it was the happiest moment. he adored hearing your cute laugh even after a lame jake.

your smallest achievements are his greatest achievements. it could be as simple as “i walked ten thousand steps today” and he’s throwing a party all for that. to jaemin any small feat of yours is a great accomplishment for him because he wants to celebrate you for as long as you let him. he always wants to be the person who make the biggest deal out of the smallest things because he knows how good you feel about yourself because of that. a simple “im so proud of you my princess” goes such a long way for you.

kissing away the tears. crying in front of jaemin was something that rarely happened because of what a great boyfriend he was. but sometimes life got hard for whatever reason and you need a good cry, in times like those jaemin kisses those tears off your face. he hates seeing you cry because a part of him breaks no matter what, it hurts him more than it does you but he’ll never say that. so instead he’ll sweetly hold your face, kissing those tears away softly. “it’ll be okay my baby, i promise” he tells you, trying to reassure you and it works like a charm everytime.

taglist : @kisseudoll @hyuckworld @lqfiles @cupidhoons @ronniee-26 @bywonyo @aerifim @17ericas @polarisjisung @sunghoonsgfreal

dream taglist

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xcherryc2x · 1 day ago

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The roles have been reversed. Toji Fushiguro is your landlord…..How do you pay rent with no money???

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

Toji x femreader Wordcount: 1.3k

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ

"Slower…slower…unggghhhh…please go s-slower"

The whole bed is rocking back and forth. You swear it's an earthquake in your room. The ceiling light looks like it could fall any moment right onto you both

The man whose fucking you is so huge. His dick is fucking you up, it hurts so good.

he knows you secretly like it rough, which is why he doesn't take all your whining seriously. He always wants to see just how much more can you take.

You didn't really have a choice here. He's gonna keep ramming his thick cock into your tight cunt like there's no tommrow

Your moans get muffled by the pillow your holding onto for life. Although your relationship with this man may be undeclared, you are definitely sure about one thing, he has an insatiable sex drive

"Toji l'm begging you.. no more. we already did it in the morning"

It's true, he had dropped by unexpectedly right when you woke up earlier today, demanding you strip and bend over.

But considering the short time between then and now. Your whole body is much more sensitive reacting to each and everyone of his naughty touches.

He’s going to fast and hard, he's just ignoring your pleading, you're begging him to be more gentle

But instead he just keeps thrusting and leans down, holding you by your chin to kiss your puffy lips, with so much lust, this is his best attempt to shut you up. He loves the way you look back at him

His tight squeeze on your butt is making red indentations. You just wish his grip was a bit less aggressive, you weren't gonna run away or anything, you know there is no way to escape this tank of a man

"Stop... *squelch* ..complaing *squelch* ...when this hungry hole of yours can't seem to let me go" his heavy breaths combine with his low laughing.

"...you fucking whore"

The way he dominates over you "puts you in your place" ...has made you develop a certain attachment to him

Between his degrading responses, he leaves hickeys all over your nape and soft shoulders even biting the side of your neck, causing you to clench your pussy, suffocating his massive cock. He groans and moans softly, bucking his hips with more force.

He's desperate to do his favourite thing as of late. Filling up your greedy cunt with his creamy cum. He knows your desperate you are for it too. They way your toes curl right when you orgasm and your body shivers expecting him to finish right with you. You're just waiting for him to cum inside.

This is how you pay your landlord and you're ashamed of it.

The sex was so mind blowing that you never really had the chance to really think about what you were really doing

But in reality your body was being used...used by the most sexiest man you have ever laid eyes on. You find everything about him attractive, to the way he talks to how good he is at aftercare

But you often wonder, how will you ever develop or even create a proper relationship if he only sees you to fuck you, and the way he fucks you makes you incapable to speak after...every single time.

You just wish you had money so you could pay him real payments.

But your a full time college student, broke with no time for a job

You've tried to talk to him about this before but they way he always undresses you with his eyes just makes you forget anything that was ever in your mind.

After he finishes in you, you sigh in relief, maybe now's your chance to talk

"Toji, I-I was thinking about getting a job or something...u-uh so I could like pay you for real"

You don't move to face him. You choose to stay in the ass up face down position he's left you in, he's finally taking his big hands off your poor butt

But he keeps his dick inside of you as he whispers into your ear,

"you're my slut, so I don't need the money"

You do not respond. You're shameless pussy does all the talking instead. It started to pulse and twitch around his dick. Causing him to smirk at your reaction

He starts moving again, this time at a more manageable pace, making you feel every vien on his dick rub inside your walls

But alas, you do not have much strength left as you realiz hands are once again on your back holding you up, preventing you from collapsing

"You get tried so quickly baby...try your best to keep up"

how can he say that while he hasn't given you a proper break since you started??

You are no stranger to Toji's strength, after all he uses so much of it on you. Carrying you bridal style, holding you up against the wall, using his buff arms to trap you close. You can remember many past instances like those. This time you cum again rather quickly. you've lost count of how many orgasms you had.

Because of his semen pooling up in you, his dick is able to reach even deeper, sliding in easily with each thrust

"it's too.. deep" you whine still knowing he will just try harder to go further in

"Where is it?" He asks with a cocky expression

You stick out your ass more as you place your hand on your stomach. You feel the bulge his dick makes. He puts his hand on your hand pressing up on your belly making you whimper.

"Can you feel it better now hmm"

You don't know why but you nod. After seeing you have finally stopped whining a bit he starts talking again in a low voice

"I'm sorry for being rough...honestly I just can't help myself" his voice is so deep and manly you could listen to him talk for hours.

He pulls out and takes a sip of water from the nightstand. He thinks you can't take anymore

Your cheeks blush a dark shade of pink, why does he talk so sweet all of a sudden. You really feel humiliated now.

The whole time you were practically begging him to stop slower and now you want him to continue after he stopped on his own??? After he apologized so sweetly??

Were you that much of a whore that the moment he pulled out, you wish he didn't

He starts kissing you all over your back, trying to get you to face him and lay on your back but you wouldn't budge. He's never really forceful with you, you know his dirty talk is always an act to get you as wet as possible. A trail of his his saliva on your back from affectionate kisses making you feel adored.

You are embarrassed by the fact that you want another round

But you don't know what your doing to him. He's trying his hardest, controlling himself not to put his dick back into your gaping hole filled with his fluids.

He tries to hold himself back instead, continuing to kiss the back of your thighs, moving his face closer and closer to the inside of your legs, inches away from your dripping pussy.

Of course he's teasing you by not let his lips actually reach your needy pussy, but his hot breath on it, is making you squirm underneath his tight embrace

"Toji...can we do it again... please?" you say extremely quietly

He knew you would give in. His dick has stayed rock hard but your words are now making it throb

"you're such a slut for me baby, m'gonna fuck you so hard you're gonna regret asking"

He thrusted in you with so much force, at the same time pulling you towards him to take all of him in at once. Yup, you definitely beileved what he just said.

And so he does as promised and you try your best not to pass out while he fucks you sensless for the remainder of the night😊

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

#jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk toji #anime smut #smut #smutshot #anime #oneshot #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen

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abedmajeed · 1 day ago

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Who I Am & Why I’m Here 💙

Hey everyone, my name is Abdelmajed. I don’t usually talk much about myself, but today, I want to share a little piece of my story.

I was born and raised in Gaza, a place that has always been my home 🏡. I grew up surrounded by my family, my friends, and the streets that I knew like the back of my hand. Life wasn’t always easy, but we had love, laughter, and dreams. I used to think that no matter what happened, home would always be here. But life has a way of changing things in ways we never expect.

Over the past months, everything I once knew has disappeared. The streets that were once filled with children playing are now silent. The houses that held so many memories are now just rubble. And the people I loved—some of them are gone forever. 💔

But I don’t want this to just be a story of loss. I want it to be a story of hope. No matter how much has changed, I refuse to stop believing in better days. I refuse to stop dreaming of a future where I can rebuild, where I can find peace, where I can wake up in the morning without fear.

That’s why I’m here. To share my journey. To connect with people who believe in kindness and humanity. To remind myself—and anyone reading this—that even in the darkest times, there is still light. ✨

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I’d love to get to know you too. Tell me something about yourself in the comments. Let’s build something positive together. 💬💙

And I'm now waiting to be Vetted by @gazavetters 🙏

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yuujispinkhair · 2 days ago

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 13

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 16 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

When your boyfriend is an ice hockey player, finding time for a date can be tough. Sure, you and Sukuna always spend lunch breaks together, meet in the library, or tumble into bed together in between practice or assignments. But planning something that goes beyond those everyday things is quite the challenge.

Sukuna's days are filled with a busy schedule. Hockey training, team meetings, morning runs, daily gym sessions, and seemingly endless hours of watching and analyzing his opponents' games. Sukuna doesn't just give 100% but 200%. It's a trait you find incredibly hot, but it also makes it hard to find time for a date.

Sukuna says he would skip practice for you. But you don't want that. It would make you feel guilty. You know how important hockey is to him, and you love how invested he is. But you certainly can't say no when he stands in front of you with his sexy, boyish grin and tells you,

"If you don't want me to skip practice for a date, then join me at the gym or on my morning runs."

So yes, you blame Sukuna's charming personality and your own foolishness for getting yourself into this situation: jogging down the dark road long before the rest of the campus comes alive, panting loudly and coughing as you run as fast as you can, in your desperate attempt of trying to keep up with your super athletic boyfriend, who jogs several meters before you at a, for his standards, very leisurely pace.

You know he is holding back for you. It makes your own poor attempt even more pathetic. Sukuna doesn't even break a sweat. When he turns to smirk at you, he looks perfect, as always, winking at you and making flirty teasing comments as if he is chilling on the couch with you and not jogging across the campus at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Sukuna looks mouth-watering. As if he is grinning at you from the cover of a Men's Health magazine. Sleeveless black compression shirt and red shorts that give you the best view of Sukuna's firm ass and those tantalizing thigh tattoos that still make you lose your mind every time you see them. His buff muscles flex attractively with every move. His lopsided boyish grin only adds to his overall handsome features. Sukuna looks sexy as hell.

Something you don't think can be said about you at this moment. You were skeptical from the moment Sukuna suggested joining him on his morning runs so you could spend more time together. You are fully aware of how unathletic you are and how super athletic Sukuna is. But it touches you that he asked you to join him, obviously wanting to spend more time with you. And so you agreed.

But right now, you regret saying yes. It's six in the morning, you have had no breakfast yet, and you feel nauseous from all the physical activity. You are panting and sweating heavily, but no matter how fast you run, you can't keep up with your hockey boyfriend.

Sukuna looks over his broad shoulder as he slows down even more, a playful smirk on his face, as he calls out to you,

"Come on, princess, catch me!"

"I.. ah...ah, I can't..."

Sukuna just laughs and turns around fully, running backwards now so he can look at you. You feel embarrassment creeping over you, knowing full well that you must look like a mess. Sweating and out of breath. Completely at your limit.

"Don't look at me, Kuna!"

But your boyfriend just smirks even broader, his maroon eyes filled with amusement, as he teases you,

"Why? I thought you like to get my attention?"

But the teasing playfulness vanishes from his face a second later when you suddenly stumble over your own feet, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea. You gasp loudly, but before you can fall, Sukuna is already in front of you. Catching you once again before you hit the ground.

"Careful, princess. Are you okay?"

His strong arms hold you up, his low voice that was so teasing a second ago now filled with genuine worry.

You hum weakly, seeing black spots dancing before your eyes as you practically slump into Sukuna's muscular arms, unable to stay upright by yourself.

"I... hate... running. Especially in the mornings. I don't think my blood circulation is made for this."

You turn your head, burying your face in Sukuna's broad chest, clinging tightly to him, hiding your face in his chest. You feel his strong arms tightening reassuringly around you, and you slump bonelessly against his tall, firm body.

Sukuna laughs softly, a low rumbling in his chest that you don't just hear but also feel against your cheek,

"Why didn't you tell me you don't like morning runs? I would have never asked you to join me if I knew."

"Because I thought it was really sweet of you to ask. And I wanted to spend more time with you."

Sukuna laughs again, hugging you even tighter to him as he rests his chin on your head.

"Yeah, well, I only want to take you on dates you actually can enjoy. Not ones that make you pass out."

You shake your head, laughing into Sukuna's chest,

"I guess this date failed. Sorry!"

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart. I will find a better idea. Hey, if I let go of you for a second, can you stand, or will you fall over?"

You lift your head, looking up at Sukuna's tattooed face, nodding slowly as you loosen your tight grip on his tanktop,

"Yeah... I can stand."

Sukuna watches you for a long moment as if he needs to make sure, but then he carefully takes a step back, slowly letting go of you. But only to turn around and bend down and point a long tattooed finger at his muscular back.

"Come on, princess, hop on. I'll carry you."

You don't even try to turn down his offer. You are too exhausted and too wobbly on your legs to even think about walking home by yourself. And, after all, Sukuna is strong.

You climb onto his broad back, grateful for his strong, large hands that wrap around your calves, helping you and giving you a feeling of safety as Sukuna straightens up to his proud 6'3" height.

You let out a relieved breath as he starts walking, carrying you piggyback seemingly without any problems. You slump against Sukuna's muscular back, hugging him tightly and wrapping your legs around him, feeling like some koala with the way you cling to him.

"Thank you, baby."

Sukuna snorts, followed by a low chuckle,

"You're welcome, princess. Just don't puke over my hair!"

You groan loudly, but it turns into a laugh when you reach out to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair playfully,

"Wouldn't that be a cute date?"

Sukuna carries you all the way back to his dorm and into his apartment, past his brother, who stands in the kitchen and grins at the two of you as he lifts a coffee mug in greeting.

"Interesting new morning workout, bro."

"Shut up, brat. The real workout will happen in the shower, so you better fuck off and give us some privacy."

Making you hide your face in Sukuna's broad back while the twins bicker with each other about their sex lives or lack of.

Sukuna really carries you into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind you, finally letting you carefully slide off his back. Only to corner you against the door with a flirty smirk on his handsome face and his large tattooed hands pulling your t-shirt up.

"I wasn't joking, you know. Be my workout partner in the shower."

His lips find yours, kissing you heatedly while you both tear at each other's workout clothes. And only a short moment later, you get swooped up again and carried into the shower, where Sukuna has you pushed up against the shower wall in no time at all, swallowing your moans with his lips while he fucks you with fast, deep thrusts.

Twenty minutes later, you stand next to Sukuna in front of the bathroom mirror, applying your skincare while stealing slightly flustered glances at your boyfriend, who just fucked your brains out even after carrying you across campus.

Sukuna doesn't look flustered at all but instead grins at you when he catches you staring in the mirror,

"I guess I made up for our failed morning-run-date, huh?"

You splutter helplessly, but Sukuna's grin just turns bigger. He grabs his cherry-scented hair gel, applying it meticulously, while he tells you in a much more serious voice,

"I promise you, I will take you on the best date, princess."

But before the two of you find time for a date, Saturday rolls around, which means ice hockey. The Tigers play at home, and so you and Nobara stroll to the arena to watch Sukuna's game. Of course, Nobara complains on the whole way, but you just grin to yourself, knowing that she would never let you down and will always drag her pretty ass off the couch to keep you company at your boyfriend's games.

She is in the middle of a rant about how stupid she finds hockey players when you receive a text message from one of said players. A smile spreads over your face as you read it. You jerk your chin towards Nobara and stop her monologue by telling her,

"Sukuna arranged for us to have special seats."

Nobara's eyes widen, and she lunges towards you, grabbing your hand to yank your phone towards her before you can stop her. Her eyebrows shoot to the sky as she reads Sukuna's message with the casual "Love you, baby" and your reply, which is equally lovey-dovey.

"The two of you are so disgustingly cute. It makes me want to puke!"

You huff, feeling your face get hot even as you start to argue with her, but Nobara shuts you down by laughing and linking her arm with yours, pulling you along into the already super crowded arena. She grins at you, yelling over the loud noises in the arena,

"At least your Kirby boy got us better seats! I hope we also get free drinks and snacks!"

"I don't think that's how it works, Nobara!"

But you can't stop smiling broadly as you make your way through the crowd. The new seats are really amazing. They are probably the best in the whole arena, with a perfect view of the rink and the snack stand only a few rows away.

The players enter the ice a few minutes later, and you feel the familiar adrenaline fill your veins. You have come to absolutely love the atmosphere in the hockey arena. The excitement, the loud cheers, the sound of the metal blades on the ice, and the hockey sticks meeting each other.

Sukuna enters the ice, and your eyes are instantly glued to him. His helmet is casually tugged under one arm as he lifts his head proudly. He looks so hot. Tall and broad with that sexy conviction written all over his tattooed face. Everyone can see how intent on winning he is. Ambitious and confident.

The whole arena chants his name, but his gaze immediately strays to you. A lazy, sexy smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face as he lifts a large hand in greeting.

You draw in a sharp breath, Sukuna's intense, deep gaze hitting you so hard somehow, making everything even more real at that moment. This is Sukuna's first game, that you watch since the two of you became a couple. This sexy guy on the ice isn't just your fuckbuddy anymore, not just the hot hockey player who somehow decided you are his lucky charm. Sukuna is your boyfriend!

A stupid smile lifts your lips. You feel light-headed all of a sudden as Sukuna's smirk softens into a smile, too. He winks at you, making a kissy face in your direction, completely unashamed about this very public display of affection.

A happy giggle escapes your broadly smiling lips as you beam at Sukuna. You mouth the words "Good luck!" and Sukuna smiles broadly at you, mouthing something back while pointing at you, and you think it means, "I will score a goal for you, baby."

You blow him a kiss, hearing Nobara next to you make a retching noise.

But you don't care about the groaning coming from Nobara as you sit down on your seat again, getting ready to watch your boyfriend's ice hockey game.

Sukuna is marvelous as always, leaving you starstruck with his fast and brutal play style. He's skating across the rink at neck-break speed, skilled and confident, like the King that he is. Yuuji and Todo are on his left and right, body-checking their opponents to keep them away from Sukuna. And Sukuna takes on the rest of the players who dare get in his way, slamming them into the boards or onto the ice with his full body weight, not letting anyone or anything stop him on his way to the goal.

When Sukuna scores the first time, the puck hits the net so hard it almost seems to tear, and the whole arena is on their feet, screaming and cheering, celebrating their star player. Sukuna pushes one hand in the air in a victorious gesture, his brother jumping onto his back, yanking Sukuna's helmet off to ruffle his pink hair, making Sukuna laugh, looking so genuinely happy that it makes your heart thump wildly.

You are in the stands clapping and cheering, smiling from ear to ear, when Sukuna's maroon gaze finds you, and he grins proudly at you. He says something again, and this time, you can read it unmistakenly off his lips,

"For you."

It sends the butterflies in your stomach fluttering crazily, and you laugh and lift your hands in a big heart, laughing even louder when Nobara elbows you,

"Oh, stop it! You are so embarrassing! I swear he looks so fucking stupid like that! And now you also join in. I cannot do this! I will get a sugar shock from all the disgusting sweetness!"

But you keep laughing and feel your heart race when Sukuna grins and winks at you, making another kissy face in your direction. He doesn't mind that the whole hockey arena sees what he is doing. Everyone can know that you are his, and he is yours. And you know 100% that anyone who dares make a rude comment about Sukuna being so soft for his girl will receive a brutal body check that sends them facefirst onto the ice or into the boards.

It's a thought that makes you smile even more broadly. You are Sukuna's official girlfriend. His number-one fan. His lucky charm. His girl.

You get your cute date a week later. The perfect date.

Sukuna sends you a text message while you are in class on Monday morning, casually informing you about his plans.

Sukuna 🏒👑❤️: Make sure to be free this Friday at 8 pm, princess. I'm taking you on a date. And I promise it doesn't involve running this time ;)

You: Where are we going?

Sukuna 🏒👑❤️: It's a surprise. But wear your best dress.

When you ask Sukuna later on about the location, he just smirks smugly at you and ruffles your hair, making you squeal and pat this hand away while he says,

"Don't even bother, baby. My lips are sealed. You'll find out on Friday."

So, on Friday evening, you pace up and down the living area of your apartment impatiently, wearing your best dress after spending an hour on your makeup, which Nobara even helped you with.

Sukuna's taking you to a restaurant, you are pretty sure about that. But you are low-key worried that you will be overdressed with the pastel pink cocktail dress with the chiffon sleeves and the glittery flowers sewn on the waistline. It's a dress you bought a few years ago for a wedding party.

But then Sukuna knocks on your door, and you yank it open impatiently, only to gasp when you see him. You were definitely right to wear your most fancy dress. Because your boyfriend is also dressed to the nines. And he looks hellishly attractive!

Sukuna is wearing a black suit that sits snugly on his tall and muscular body, accentuating his athletic figure perfectly. Combined with a dark red dress shirt that brings out his maroon eyes, a black tie, and some really nice black shoes. In his hands is a huge bouquet of red, pastel pink, and white roses that he pushes into your arms as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

You automatically take the flowers but are too busy staring at Sukuna. He looks so handsome that you can't stop yourself from letting your gaze slowly travel over his body. When you finally reach his tattooed face, you are greeted by Sukuna's broad grin.

"Like what you see, princess?"

"Yeah, you look really good, baby."

He grins broadly at you, raising an eyebrow cockingly as he shrugs,

"I always do."

"Oh, Kuna!"

You roll your eyes, smacking his broad shoulders playfully, and groan dramatically, which turns into a happy chuckle when you feel Sukuna sneak his strong arms around your waist and pull you to him.

You wrap one hand around Sukuna's tie to lightly tug on it as you get on your tiptoes to kiss him. You can feel his lips lift in a smile when he kisses you back, slow and teasingly, licking into your mouth in a way that makes you a bit dizzy.

But Sukuna pulls away again after a moment, only his large hand stays on the small of your back, caressing you lightly. His low voice is a velvety murmur,

"You look absolutely beautiful, princess. Clearly stealing the spotlight from me, and that is not something I say lightly."

He winks at you, making you burst out laughing happily as you finally take time to look at the flowers in your hand, bringing them to your nose to inhale their scent.

"The flowers are so pretty. Thank you so much!"

And as smug as Sukuna usually acts, you see his face turn into an almost flustered expression. To your surprise, your bad boy makes a gesture that you only knew from his twin brother so far. He averts his gaze, lifts his large hand, and scratches his neck, staring at a space slightly left to your face while he informs you,

"I wasn't satisfied with the bouquets that woman at the flower shop showed me, so I had her make one exactly how I wanted it for you. Pink is you, and red is me... and the white is for my Tigers hoodie that I wore when you slammed into me at our first meeting."

You are sure your heart just melted into a puddle. A little squeaky noise escapes your lips as you lunge at Sukuna, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. And he chuckles and asks,

"What?"

"Oh, nothing... I just think you are the best."

And you know he can feel your smile against his chest just like you can feel his smile when he leans down to breathe a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you win the lottery?"

You look incredulously at Sukuna as you stand in front of the fanciest restaurant in the whole region. Sukuna just grins at you, lifting one eyebrow playfully,

"Only the best is good enough for my girl."

"But..."

"Shhh. This is a special occasion, so let me spend a little money. I swear it's okay. I know someone who works here. He used to play hockey with me, and he gives me a discount."

You are sure that even with a discount, the meal is still too expensive for a college student, but you don't say it and instead just smile at Sukuna and thank him as you bump into his side.

The guy at the reception desk waves over a waiter, who leads you to your table for two. You feel your pulse race as you walk on Sukuna's arm, feeling as if you got teleported into a romance novel where the main character gets introduced to the fancy life at some Mafia prince's side or something.

The thought makes you laugh softly under your breath, and Sukuna only adds to that little fantasy, acting like a true gentleman. He pulls out your chair, helps you sit down, and then holds your hand atop the table, occasionally bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingers, giving you crazy butterflies with everything he does.

The food is incredible, and Sukuna is a charming conversation partner, who is funny and smart, just like you know him from your lunch breaks in the dining hall. But tonight feels different. Special. Almost magical. Both of you are dressed in your fanciest clothes, sitting in this exclusive restaurant, surrounded by an elegant and luxurious atmosphere, while your table is filled with the fanciest meal you have ever seen.

Sukuna really went all out. He truly meant it when he promised to take you on the best date.

The four-course meal he booked is delicious, and the wine that goes with it tastes amazing, even though you doubt you have the exquisite taste buds for actually being able to tell which wine is good and which isn't. You eat the delicious food, drink your wine, and toast to your newly updated relationship status, joking around and flirting playfully the whole time.

By the time your dessert arrives, you feel completely happy and satisfied, exhilarated by the luxurious meal and Sukuna's company. The waiter places a huge plate with various desserts in front of each of you, making you go, "Ooooh!" which brings a super pleased grin to Sukuna's face.

You both dig into your desserts, but you realize that Sukuna doesn't touch one of the variations at all. The one which you like the most. A knowing smile plays around his lips when he scoops some of it onto his spoon and offers it to you wordlessly.

You smile at Sukuna, whispering a thank you when he brings the spoon to your lips, and feeds you your favorite dessert. It's cute, loving, and even sexy, given how sensual the act of it is. Your heart beats even faster, making you feel so light-headed and happy that you can't stop smiling.

Sukuna looks happy, too, and it makes your heart flutter. He must have really wanted to excel at this whole date thing and make this evening special. Because you are special to him.

You watch him eat, soon finding out which dessert is his fave, and safe it up for him, too, which leads to both of you playfully reaching across the table to feed each other the other's favorite dessert, laughing and joking around until both of your plates are empty.

Sukuna's large hand wraps lightly around your wrist, holding it as he lets you feed him the last spoon of the cherry chocolate pudding he liked the most. A small grin plays around his lips as he takes the spoon carefully into his mouth, and his maroon eyes look deeply into yours.

It makes you flustered somehow, feeling like a teenager on her first date, and you giggle nervously as you feel your face get hot. But you don't look away, too transfixed by how good Sukuna looks and by the warmth in his eyes when he looks at you.

"This is the best date I've ever had, Kuna."

His smirk is smug as hell when he replies with a,

"That was my goal."

At the same moment as you add,

"But you really didn't have to spend so much money on me! I would have also been happy with eating your home-cooked dinner."

Sukuna laughs softly, that low rumble that makes the hairs on your arms stand up and makes that delicious tingling feeling flow through your veins. His maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours, so serious despite his cocky attitude,

"This is our first real date, princess. I want it to be one you will never forget. Not my everyday cooking in my kitchen, not a stupid hockey party or a mediocre restaurant that you can just visit every day. I want it to be special."

You are sure Sukuna can see the little hearts in your eyes because that's how you feel. Overflowing with affection and love. No one ever put that much effort into being with you.

Just when you are about to get too emotional, Sukuna adds with a little smirk,

"And I definitely had to find something better than a morning run that almost made you puke."

You look into his eyes for a long moment, trying to control yourself, but you can't hold back and snort loudly, bursting out with laughter. Too loud for this solemn atmosphere. You press a hand over your mouth, but you can't stop, tears welling up in your eyes from how hard you are laughing. And Sukuna joins in, laughing the kind of laugh that he only allows you and his twin to see.

It earns the two of you some scandalized stares. The tables around you seem to be so calm and collected, so professional and restrained even at a private dinner, and your loud laughter is so completely opposite to that and carries through the whole room, making everyone look at you. But it makes you laugh even more, unable to stop, while you still look at Sukuna.

The guy at the table next to yours clears his throat loudly, catching Sukuna's attention, who cocks his head at the man while raising an eyebrow slowly,

"What? Are you allergic to fun?"

The man and his wife both inhale sharply, eyes widening, both opening their mouths but then closing them again without saying anything after taking a good look at Sukuna's tattooed face. And you hide your face in your hands as more loud laughter bubbles out of your mouth.

You feel exhilarated when you walk to Sukuna's car, a bubbly feeling in your chest and a smile on your face even as the chilly nightair hits your naked shoulders and makes you shiver. But Sukuna is perceptive as always, immediately taking off his suit jacket to drape it over your shoulders before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side to keep you warm.

You are sure anyone who walks past you can see how smitten you are. It's a wonderful feeling, the kind that makes you smile nonstop. Even more so when you reach Sukuna's car, and he holds open the door for you and closes it carefully behind you before he jogs casually around the car and gets into the driver seat with a dazzling smile on his tattooed face.

The drive back to campus takes about an hour. You spend most of it in comfortable silence and the occasional laugh when you remember the way the other guests reacted to your laughing fit. Sukuna lights a cigarette, smiling as he takes a deep drag and slowly exhales the smoke. He quickly turns up the heat, making sure you stay warm despite the open car window.

And you sigh happily as you snuggle into Sukuna's jacket and lean back in the comfy leather seat, reaching out to put one hand on Sukuna's muscular thigh, where it stays the whole drive home.

Sukuna parks in front of your dorm and walks you to your door, still the perfect gentleman. But before you can remark on it, he kisses you. A sweet, deep French kiss, where both of his tattooed hands cup your cheeks, and he tilts your head back to kiss you even deeper.

You feel weak in the knees, grateful for Sukuna's tall, strong body to lean against, sighing softly into the kiss, wishing it will never end.

When Sukuna pulls away, you reach out immediately and grab his tie, smiling at him as you let your gaze trail over him again. He really looks fine as hell. You tug on his tie, pulling him closer again, and tilt your head to grin up at him,

"Hey, where do you think you're going? Stay the night, baby. I want this date to last the whole rest of the day."

And Sukuna's eyes twinkle playfully as he grabs your chin and slowly leans down,

"I'm going nowhere. As long as you'll have me, I will always stay the night, princess."

SIGHHHHHHH 💗💗 That date with him would make me melt, too. I hope you enjoyed it!! The thought of Sukuna dressing super nice in a suit and tie is always very delicious to me.

Thank you so much for reading and for all the love! I hope you liked the new chapter. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

In Chapter 14, we will see our dear dormmate Nobara maybe becoming a bit softer for our hockey boyfie lol + Reader taking care of a pissed-off Sukuna, who lost a game ;) He needs us so bad 😘

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n

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honeyncherry · 14 hours ago

Text

we never tell - joe burrow

summary who could blame you? the night before thanksgiving was never meant to be innocent — especially not when the boy you’ve known forever looks at you like he’s already decided to ruin you

content 18+, smut, language, alcohol

The bar is loud. Too loud. Voices crash over each other, music shaking the walls, laughter splintering through the chaos. The air swirls with spilled beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A cocktail of regret already in the making. It all clings to you, settling within your skin.

The heat inside is nearly unbearable, a sharp contrast to the biting Ohio cold just beyond the fogged-up windows.

You push through the crowd, brushing past bodies pressed too close together, faces blurring under the neon glow. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. Ones you hoped you’d never see again.

Same bar, same people, same exhausting routine playing out like clockwork.

You don’t usually look forward to this night — this annual reunion of your hometown’s finest washed-up athletes, ex-prom queens, and guys who still bring up their glory days at state championships like they happened yesterday.

But it’s tradition.

And tradition says you show up, smile when people ask about the semester thus far, dodge questions about your major, sip overpriced drinks, and pretend you care about who got engaged or knocked up this year.

This is only your second Blackout Wednesday.

Sophomore year means you’re not a newbie anymore, but you’re not a regular either. You know the drill now. The way the bartenders barely glance at the fake IDs slid across the counter, even though they grew up with half the people using them.

You’ve watched guys you went to elementary school with order rounds of shots like they didn’t once throw up grape juice in the cafeteria. Girls who used to sneer at you in the hallways now drunkenly grabbing your hand in the bathroom, slurring about how much they "missed you soooo much."

It’s all fake. A well-rehearsed play where everyone pretends they aren’t counting down the minutes until they can escape this town again.

Still, you’re here.

Because what else is there to do?

You’re halfway through your first drink when you see Joe.

It shouldn’t be surprising, Thanksgiving means everyone comes home.

Home from his first year at LSU, taller and broader, shoulders filling out the long-sleeved black shirt stretched over his frame. He looks different, but not in a way that makes you stare, more in a way that makes you double-take.

You remember when he was deciding where to go after graduating OSU. The transfer talk had stretched through the beginnings of the year, the same names cycling through every conversation your brother and his friends had at the house. North Carolina? Nebraska? Alabama?

And then it happened:

Cincinnati.

Your head had perked up. Just slightly. Just enough for you to feel stupid about it later.

It wasn’t like it would’ve meant anything. It wasn’t like you would’ve seen him, not really. The University of Cincinnati was huge and you were wrapping up your freshman year. You weren’t sure why it even mattered. Why, for a brief second, the idea of your worlds overlapping for the first time beyond family ties, felt like something worth entertaining.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t a thought at all.

Because LSU happened.

And when his family held that small going-away gathering, there was no red and black in sight. No UC decorations, no Bearcat colors bleeding into the napkins or tablecloths. Just purple and gold. Bold, glaring, almost mocking.

You remember standing in front of the dessert table, staring at royal frosting of all things like it had personally insulted you.

Some nights, when the dorm was too quiet and your phone screen was the only light in the room, you’d find yourself typing his name into Google. Just once. Just to check.

Never interest. Never anything more.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

It wasn’t hard to keep up. LSU was making noise, and so was he. His name started popping up in articles, on Twitter, tucked into game recaps with words like poised and potential thrown around like confetti. You’d skim them, half-engaged, never needing to look too hard because if you didn’t see his name online, you’d hear it from your mom.

"Robin says Joe’s adjusting well down there…" she’d mention casually, somewhere between asking if you needed more laundry detergent and updating you on which neighbors had finally sold their house.

Sometimes, she’d go on. He really likes Baton Rouge… Jimmy says the coaches are impressed… Robin says they miss having him around.

But sometimes, she wouldn’t.

And when enough time passed without a mention, without hearing his name tucked neatly into conversation like it had always been, you’d find yourself searching again.

Just to know.

And then you’d close the tab, lock your phone, roll over in bed, and never think about it again.

Until now.

Because now, he’s here, standing in the middle of your hometown bar like he isn’t creeping into conversations, like his name isn’t slipping into headlines, like he isn’t the reason some guy at the other end of the counter is repping purple and gold instead of Bengals orange.

He’s different. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, you’re seeing him as something other than the annoying older boy who was always there, easy to roll your eyes at and even easier to ignore.

You look away.

It doesn’t matter.

Or at least, it shouldn’t.

But something lingers. The kind of awareness that prickles along your skin, that makes your fingers tense around your drink, that keeps your shoulders squared even as you force yourself to focus on something else.

He’s not looking at you.

Not that you can tell.

But you can feel him.

Somewhere past the crush of people near the bar, past the bodies leaning against sticky tabletops, past the haze of smoke and too-loud music and bad decisions waiting to happen: he’s there.

And maybe it’s just in your head, it could be nothing. Maybe it’s that he’s familiar, but not in the way he used to be.

Because you know the set of his shoulders, the way he pushes his hand through his hair when he’s thinking, the way his jaw tenses when he’s listening but not speaking.

You know him without knowing him.

And yet, the weight of his presence is pressing into you like a hand at the small of your back.

You huff and try to shake it off.

"Bathroom?" one of your friends says beside you, looping her arm through yours before you can respond.

You let her pull you along, weaving through the throng of people, past someone attempting to order another round, past a couple making out against the wall like they’ve forgotten they’re in public.

The bathroom is a war zone, as expected.

Girls pressed together in front of the mirrors, smudging eyeliner with unsteady hands, fixing lipstick that’s already faded from stolen kisses and mixed drinks. Strangers throwing compliments like candy: oh my god, your hair looks amazing and I love your dress, where’d you get it? whispered between girls who wouldn’t acknowledge each other outside of tonight.

You slip into a stall, locking the door, leaning against it for just a second.

The bass vibrates through the walls. The distant hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

And if you say it enough times, maybe you’ll believe it.

By the time you wash your hands and step back into the crowd, your drink is gone, condensation leaving a damp circle on the table where you left it. Your friends have drifted toward the dance floor, the blur of movement and music swallowing them whole.

You decide on another drink, pushing your way toward the bar and waiting your turn only for someone to shove past at the last second, slamming a twenty onto the counter and barking out their order over the noise.

Your eyes narrow. Brandon Wilkes.

Of course it’s him. Always cutting ahead, always acting like he was owed something. You roll your eyes and shoot him a glare, resisting the urge to call him out. Some things never change.

"Didn’t think I’d see you here."

The words slip through the noise — smooth like they belong there.

Your breath catches. A pause, just long enough for recognition to crawl up your spine.

Joe.

Closer than before, the sharp angles of his face softened by dim lighting, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they settle on yours.

You swallow, tilting your chin slightly. "Didn’t think I’d see you either."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Guess we’re all bound to make a few questionable decisions tonight."

You nod, shifting your weight onto your other foot. "Wouldn’t be Blackout Wednesday without a little regret."

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Regret, huh?"

"Regret," you confirm.

His eyes flicker down to your empty hand, then back up, considering. "What are you drinking?"

It’s not a question, more like a next move.

You hesitate for a second before giving him the answer.

Before you can even think about ordering yourself, Joe lifts a hand, barely even a motion, and the bartender is there in an instant. Of course.

You bite back a scoff as she leans in, all too eager, but Joe doesn’t so much as glance at her. Just gives your order, smooth and easy, like it was never up for debate.

And just like that, the bartender slides a fresh drink across the counter, and Joe beats you to it, picking it up before you can reach for it.

Your fingers brush when he hands it to you.

And it’s nothing.

But it’s also not.

You take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. "Trying to get me drunk, Burrow?"

His smirk deepens. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, quick, unconscious. He leans in just slightly, just enough to see if you’ll move. "Don’t think you need my help with that."

Your stomach flips and you hate that it does. You hate the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up. The way the bar suddenly feels too warm, the noise fading into something distant, like nothing else matters except the inches of space between you.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid.

It’s inevitable.

One drink turns into two.

Two turn into stolen glances, subtle but unmistakable. A slow, unraveling pull that neither of you acknowledge out loud.

The brush of his arm against yours, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of your sleeves. The way your conversations slip into something easier than they should be, like you’ve done this before, like you’ve always known how to hold a conversation between each other.

And then a touch.

A simple thing, really.

It’s subtle at first, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt like a passing thought, something fleeting and unintentional. But then he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand sticks, settling against your waist, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that feels effortless but also like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

He leans in, voice low, threading through the noise of the bar like it belongs there. His breath is warm against your skin, steady, even, completely at ease. The conversation around you dissolves into background static, something distant and irrelevant, because suddenly, this is the only thing you can focus on.

Your breath catches, you glance up, and that’s the moment everything shifts.

Because when you meet his gaze, when you catch the flicker of something dark, something hungry in his expression, you know.

And so does he.

All you can hear is the low thud of the bass and the shallow breath you take in when Joe shifts closer, when the heat of him presses into your side. His palm flexes just slightly, enough for you to feel it, enough to make your stomach tighten.

And then he leans in.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring the moment before it happens.

His breath is warm against your skin when he speaks, just for you. "You gonna stop me?"

You should.

You know you should.

You should think about what happens after this, about how easy it would be to fall into something that was never meant to be.

But you don’t.

Your body betrays you first, tilting toward him, your fingers brushing his forearm where it rests against the bar. His jaw tenses at the contact, his fingers curling tighter against you, his head tipping down just slightly, just enough for his lips to hover above yours.

His eyes flicker, searching yours, asking a question without saying a word.

And you answer by not moving away.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the gap. So easy to give in, to let this spiral into something neither of you can take back.

But then—

A sharp burst of laughter, too close, too jarring, snaps you back into reality. A body stumbles into Joe’s back, jostling both of you just enough to break the moment. The spell fractures, and you blink, breath catching in your throat as the bar crashes back into focus. It’s loud and crowded. Filled with too many people, too many eyes.

Joe’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the room. His fingers squeeze once more against your skin before he pulls back. "Come on," he murmurs, barely audible over the noise.

Your pulse pounds as he nods toward the door. You hesitate for less than a second before following behind him, glancing over your shoulder and realizing everyone is too busy to notice the two of you leaving together.

The air outside is crisp, sharp against your flushed skin, but it does nothing to cool you down. Joe walks ahead, his pace slow and measured like he’s thinking. Like he’s trying not to think.

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars left. You recognize his truck instantly, parked toward the back under a flickering street lamp and distant from the other cars.

He stops beside the driver’s side, one hand gripping the handle, the other resting against his side. He exhales, his breath visible in the air and his head tips back slightly before he looks at you.

It’s different out here.

No music to drown out your thoughts. No crowd to get lost in. Just the sound of the wind, the distant hum of traffic, the weight of his stare. The space between you feels bigger now, stretched thin by the cold and the quiet. More time to think. More time to overthink.

His gaze locks onto you like he’s seeing something he can’t turn away from and that makes his jaw shift, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to move, to close the last bit of space between you.

But then he does.

A step forward. Then another.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing your wrist first, barely there, before slowly sliding up the length of your arm. His palm finds your waist, the same way it had inside, only now there’s nothing stopping him.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead he dips his head, his nose brushing along your temple before his mouth finds your jaw. The first drag of his lips is barely a kiss, more of a test, a question traced against your skin to make sure this is real.

Like he needs you to know that this is happening.

"Tell me you want this."

The words come out against the soft skin beneath your ear. His lips linger, moving slowly, tracing a path down your jaw, stopping just at the corner of your mouth.

Your body answers before you do. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of his shirt, your breath hitching and head tilting slightly, giving him more. Giving into him.

"Tell me." His pulse hammers beneath your touch, a steady, thrumming beat against your palm as your hands slide higher, over his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck. Joe exhales sharply, the sound making it seem like he’s barely holding himself together.

You don’t answer him with words.

You tilt your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing into him until there’s nothing left but heat. Your lips part, hovering just close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours, can feel the way he’s waiting, hanging onto the moment like he needs it just as badly as you do.

And then, he gives in.

His mouth crashes against yours, a searing pull that steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers tighten at your waist, flexing like he’s making sure you don’t slip away, like letting go isn’t an option.

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Not when your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. Not when he groans against your lips, the sound low and raw, before his grip tightens, his other hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

He pulls you closer and closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the undeniable weight of whatever this is. His tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your back, your hips — all like he can’t decide where to touch you first, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of your body.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes search yours, "get in the truck."

You don’t hesitate. You climb into the backseat, the leather cold against your hands, but you barely notice. Joe follows, his movements quick and borderline impatient as he shuts the door behind him. The space is intimate, the windows already fogging up from the heat of your bodies.

Joe’s hands are on you again, laying you down gently while his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your top. His lips find yours once more, his kiss harder this time, more demanding. You can feel the need in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying to keep control.

But when your hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body through the fabric of his shirt, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His hands slither up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Do something about it," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening. Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling your jeans down, his hands rough but careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

A flicker of self-consciousness washes over you, but it disappears as quickly as the heat of his body sinks into you, settling himself between your legs. His hands caress your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. "Couldn’t stop looking at you all night,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. You lift up to capture his lips, nipping at him, unable to stop the way your hips instinctively arch to meet him. Your body moves on its own, desperate for more.

Joe’s breath hitches, his lips trailing a path of fire as they move lower, scattering kisses across your collarbone. His hands, calloused yet gentle, slide up your sides, pushing the fabric of your top higher until your skin is exposed to the chill of the truck’s interior. But you can’t feel the cold, not when his touch burns hotter than anything else.

“So soft,” he murmurs, his voice almost reverent as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. His touch is slower now, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. His lips follow, kissing a line down your sternum, his breath warm against your skin.

You shiver, your hands tangling in his hair and urging him closer. His name escapes your lips in a whisper, a sound that seems to ignite something deep within him. He groans, the vibration of it sending a jolt through you.

His eyes flick up to yours, and for a moment he just watches. His chest rises and falls with the same urgency that’s coursing through your veins, and then, without a word, he lowers his head again, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties.

Your back arches, a soft gasp escaping you as his hands move up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace and sliding them down. His touch is teasing as if he’s testing your limits.

When his lips finally meet the heat between your legs, you nearly cry out. His mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against you in a slow, skilled motion that has your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s relentless, his movements measured yet unwavering as though he’s determined to unravel you completely.

“Jesus—” he chokes out your name, his voice muffled against you. “Taste so good,” the vibrations of his words send a shiver up your spine. His hands grip your hips and hold you in place as his tongue circles that one sensitive spot, driving you closer to the brink with every flick, every stroke.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your core, but Joe doesn’t let up. His pace quickens, his tongue moving faster, more urgently, until you’re gasping for air, your hips bucking against him.

“Joe, I—I can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the pleasure crests, threatening to overwhelm you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hand trails up, fingertips skimming over your stomach, teasing, exploring, until he reaches the lace of your bra. There’s no hesitation, just an easy push of the cup, baring you to him. His thumb grazes over your nipple before he pinches, rolling it between his fingers, his grip firm, possessive.

The sensation sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as the sharp edge of pleasure tightens, unraveling the last threads of restraint. Your body tenses, a cry slipping from your lips as the wave builds, crests, and crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Joe doesn’t stop — not yet. His mouth still moves against you, coaxing out every last shudder, every last breathless moan. His hands hold you steady, his grip firm, grounding, as if he’s keeping you tethered to him while you fall apart.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten and he watches you — really watches you. For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? Regret?

But then it’s gone.

His gaze darkens, hands sliding up to frame your face, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles over your cheeks. Like he needs you to feel it, to feel him. To know he’s here.

And then he moves.

His body presses flush against yours, the heat of him searing through the layers still between you, his length hard and insistent against your thigh. The thought, the uncertainty, dissolves beneath the weight of him, beneath the way his mouth finds yours in another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sound that leaves you is nothing short of desperate. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, gripping, pulling, needing more.

Joe groans, the sound reverberating between you as his hips roll forward, grinding against you, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His breath shudders against your lips, his hands tightening where they hold you, like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need.

Joe hesitates, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His jaw tenses, his breath uneven, and then he nods, his fingers curling around the waistband of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the quiet of the truck, each metallic click sending another pulse of anticipation through you.

And then he’s there, guiding himself to you, his breath catching as he pushes inside.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you, inch by excruciating inch. He goes slow, like he’s savoring every second, his forehead pressing against yours when he finally sinks all the way in. His body shudders against you, “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, almost pained.

Your fingers twitch against his skin, needing more, needing to feel him. You reach for his shirt, bunching the fabric, pushing it up just enough to reveal the solid warmth of his stomach, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Your palms slide over him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the way his muscles tense under your touch.

He grunts at the contact, his body responding instantly. His hips shift, just slightly, but the movement is enough to have you whimpering, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, slow at first, dragging every thrust out like he wants to commit this to memory. But it doesn’t last, his control frays too quickly and soon, he’s driving into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs.

The sounds between you; his breath, ragged and uneven, the wet slap of skin against skin, the soft creak of leather beneath you, fill the small space, drowning out the world beyond the truck.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, every noise he makes only fuels the fire burning inside you. His hands roam, gripping, teasing, pushing you closer to the edge until it’s too much, until the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you might snap.

“Joe, I’m—” The words are barely out before he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that has your vision blurring, your body bowing into him, every thought dissolving into pure sensation.

He groans, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning rougher, more desperate, his breath hot against your skin. “C’mon,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

And you do.

Your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure overtakes you, crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling beneath him. The sound that escapes you is involuntary, raw, and it sets something off in him. Joe follows a second later, his hips stuttering, his movements turning jerky as he buries himself deep, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he comes.

For a moment, the only thing that exists is the sound of your heavy breathing, tangled together, filling the confined space of the truck. His forehead presses against yours, his body still trembling with the aftershocks, and for just a second, everything else fades.

But then his grip on you loosens. The heat of his hands disappears, replaced by the cool air settling in the space between you. Reality creeps back in, slow but certain.

Joe exhales, shifting back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of uneven breaths. He moves sluggishly, almost like he’s reluctant, lifting his hips just enough to drag his boxers and jeans back up. His fingers fumble with the button before securing it, and then he rakes a hand through his damp hair.

And just like that, the shift is instant.

The momentary haze shatters, and cold clarity rushes in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, your skin still tingling where his hands had been, but the weight of what just happened slams into you all at once.

You move fast, scrambling to pull your pants up, to fix your shirt, to smooth down the mess of your hair — to piece yourself back together before it all slips too far out of reach. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the fabric, your breath still uneven, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to leave.

Just for a second, your eyes lock with his. Joe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t try to stop you. He just watches with an unreadable expression and parted lips, like he might speak.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t wait for him to. Your fingers wrap around the door handle and you push it open, stepping out into the night. The air is sobering, biting against your skin, but it does nothing to take away the feel of him.

You don’t look back, because no amount of distance can undo what’s already been done.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow angst #joe burrow x you

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rafayelxsylusho · 2 days ago

Note

Not sure if you do requests! (I tried looking but I couldn't find anything so sorry in advance if you don't.)

I was wondering if you'd ever be willing to do a sylusxyouxrafayel piece! I think Rafayel and Sylus both have that delicious possessiveness to them that it would almost be like a competition but I'd imagine it make someone go a little crazy from how opposite of each other they appear.

Thanks!

Hi I do accept requests, it might take a bit of time for me to get to them but I try 😊.

This is how I picture it, I hope you like it!!

TW: Filthy smut

You opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains of an unfamiliar bedroom. A throbbing headache pulsed behind your temples as fragmented memories of the night before flashed through your mind, loud music, clinking glasses, the taste of alcohol on your tongue. And then, nothing.

You sat up abruptly, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the raised voices. The room spun slightly but you ignored the disorientation, focusing instead on the heated exchange between Sylus and Rafayel.

"...in danger if YOU were supposed to be taking care of her, not running around the city like some reckless fool!" Sylus shouted, his usually calm demeanor shattered.

Rafayel scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. "Oh, coming from the man who's been stalking her every move for years? At least I have the decency to be present when I say I'll protect her.

You blinked rapidly, rubbing your eyes and shaking your head as if to dispel the illusion. But no, Sylus and Rafayel remained, glaring at each other intensely, seemingly oblivious to your sudden awakening.

"Am I...am I dreaming?" you muttered under your breath, struggling to reconcile the fact that these two, who had never met each other to your knowledge, were now standing in the same room together and arguing about you.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool hardwood floor beneath your feet as you stumbled up on slightly unsteady legs. Your head throbbed and your mouth felt like cotton, remnants of the night before still lingering.

You felt strong arms grasp you before your knees could give out, pulling your limp body against a firm chest. The scent of cologne and something uniquely Sylus filled your nostrils as he held you close, his grip possessive and protective.

"Get your hands off of her," Sylus growled, his voice a low rumble in his chest that you could feel as much as hear. There was a warning in his tone, a clear message that he considered you his territory to defend. Rafayel, not one to back down from a challenge, tightened his own hold on you, his fingers splaying across your back as he pulled you more firmly against him. "I'm not letting go of her, not until I know she's okay," he retorted, his chin set stubbornly.

Their argument continued to escalate, voices rising as they stood there holding you between them. The last thing you registered before everything faded to black again was the feeling of their hands on your body, their chests pressed aginst your back and front, hearts beating with a matching intensity. Then, nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slowly regained consciousness again as you blinked open your heavy lids. Sylus and Rafayel were still there, their argument now a low, heated murmur but no less intense.

"...leave, Sylus," Rafayel was saying, his voice tight with barely contained anger

You tried to speak, your throat dry and scratchy. "W-what's going on...?" you croaked out, struggling to make sense of the situation. "Why are you both here? How do you even know each other?" Your words came out slurred and weak, your body still not fully under your control. You looked between the two men, seeing the way they eyed each other like rivals, the tension crackling in the air between them. The reality of your situation began to sink in, this was no dream. Somehow, some way, Sylus and Rafayel were both here, in the same room, arguing over you. And you were right in the middle of it. The realization sent a shiver down your spine, even as a fresh wave of dizziness threatened to pull you under again.

You looked around the unfamiliar room, your gaze landing back on Sylus and Rafayel. They stood frozen, eyes locked on you, expressions intense.

"Where am I?" you asked again, your voice slightly stronger this time. You needed answers, needed to understand how this bizarre situation had come to pass.

Rafayel was the first to speak, his brow furrowed in concern. "You're in a safe place, cutie. Don't worry, I've got you."

Sylus scoffed, "Not thanks to you" he retorted, his lips curling into a sneer.

Before they could launch into another argument, you interrupted, desperate for clarity. "Do you two...know each other?" you asked, looking between them in disbelief. "How is this even possible?"

Rafayel's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he glared at Sylus. "Yes, unfortunately we've known each other for years, Sylus here has been...keeping tabs on you.

Sylus's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Rafayel. "Fine," he bit out through gritted teeth. "Yes, it was mephisto that has been watching over you. Not that Rafayel here has been doing a very good job of it," he added with a scathing edge to his voice.

You stared at them both in disbelief, your mind reeling from their revelation. Without thinking, you pushed yourself up to standing, pointing an accusatory finger at each of them in turn.

"What makes either of you think I need your protection?" you demanded, your voice stronger now, tinged with anger and confusion. "I was having less trouble before I even met the both of you!" You couldn't believe the gall they had, arguing over you like some prize to be won when you had been managing just fine on your own until now. The realization that they had been secretly watching you left you feeling violated and furious. How dare they interfere without your knowledge or consent? Your heart raced as you waited for their response, determined to get to the bottom of this mess.

Rafayel stepped closer, his eyes softening as he circled around you. There was a change in his demeanor, a intensity in his gaze that made you feel both unnerved and strangely breathless.

"Why do you think you were doing okay before, cutie?" he asked, his voice lowering to a smooth, persuasive tone. "Luck? Or perhaps..." He paused, his fingers brushing lightly along your arm as he continued to walk around you. "...it was because of the protection we have been secretly providing you, even if you didn't know it."

His eyes met yours, and in them you saw a flicker of something raw and possessive. "You really think you could have lasted this long without someone watching your back?Without us?" There was a hint of vulnerability in his words, but also a underlying current of arrogance.

Sylus scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain as he spoke. "Don't give yourself too much credit, Rafayel. The fact that she ended up in danger last night is on you. If you had been doing your job properly, she never would have been in that situation." His eyes flashed with accusation as he glared at Rafayel, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Rafayel still didn't spare Sylus a glance, his intense gaze remaining fixed on you. "Well, cutie here said she was already home and going to sleep," he argued, his voice taking on a defensive edge. "I didn't know she was out partying with friends. I don't have some creepy mechanical crow stalking her every move, now do I?" There was a hint of bitterness in his tone, a jab at Sylus's invasive methods of protection.

You took a step back from both of them, your arms crossed tightly across your chest as you glared at Sylus and Rafayel in turn. Your eyes flashed with anger and frustration, your voice rising as you spoke.

"I really don't owe either one of you any explanations," you declared firmly. "And I don't need your so called protection, so stop." You felt a surge of independence and defiance, unwilling to be bossed around or controlled by either of them anymore. "I can take care of myself, and I don't appreciate being spied on or having my life interfered with like this." Your words were sharp and decisive, leaving no room for argument.

Sylus let out a low, rumbling chuckle at your defiant words, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and dark appreciation. "Feisty little kitten, aren't you?" he murmured, " or maybe a little dragon, all fire and fury, even when you're cornered." He took a step closer to you, his tall frame seeming to loom over you, his presence commanding and dominant. "And I think you do owe us an explanation," Sylus continued, his gaze intensifying as he searched your face. "We've both invested too much in keeping you safe to just walk away now." He reached out, his fingers brushing along your jawline, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his eyes. His hand remained under your chin, his thumb brushing back and forth as he held your gaze. His eyes bored into yours, intense and unyielding. "You can't deny it, can you? You've been playing us both, keeping me at arm's length even as you flirted shamelessly with Rafayel." His lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and something darker, more possessive.

"Don't think I haven't noticed," Sylus continued, his other hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you just a little bit closer. "Mephisto can see everything, little dragon. He can see the way you blush and smile at Rafayels clumsy attempts to win your favor."

He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice lowering to whisper. "Tell me, were you planning to keep us both dangling forever? Or did you intend to choose one of us eventually?" His eyes searched yours, looking for answers, for any hint of what you truly wanted. The air between you was charged with tension, Sylus's proximity making it hard to think straight.

"I...I wasn't!" you stammered out, flustered by Sylus's proximity and the intensity of his gaze. "I'm not playing with either of you." Your cheeks flushed hotly at the accusation, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could gather your thoughts to say more, Sylus interrupted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction

"Oh, I think you were," Sylus said, his voice still low and intense. "But perhaps Rafayel can enlighten us both." He tilted his head towards the other man, a smirk playing on his lips.

Rafayel stepped closer, crowding into your space on the other side. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening to pin you with a heated gaze. "I can smell your arousal, cutie," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "The same scent that clung to your skin when we went on our dates, when I held you close and whispered sweet nothings in your ear."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I...I don't know what you're talking about," you managed to say, but your voice lacked conviction. Your body trembled slightly as Rafayel's words echoed in your mind, the truth of them impossible to ignore. You were attracted to both of them in a way that both thrilled and terrified you, and they both knew it. The knowledge put you at a distinct disadvantage in this bizarre standoff.

Sylus leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke in a low, intense murmur. "How do I put this in simple terms, kitten?" His voice was a dark, velvety rumble, sending shivers down your spine. "You've been flirting with both of us, spending time with us, and right now..." His hand slid from your hip to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You could feel every hard inch of his body pressed against yours. "Instead of feeling unsafe or scared, you're feeling something else entirely, aren't you?" His other hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. "You're feeling turned on. Aroused. Desired. And we both know it."

Rafayel's eyes flashed with a mix of jealousy and indignation as he glared at Sylus. "Maybe she doesn't want you, Sylus," he retorted, "Maybe y/n only wants me." There was a desperate, almost frantic edge to his words, a man clinging to a fading hope.

Sylus laughed, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke to Rafayel. "If you had a mechanical crow watching over her every move, as I do, you would have seen the way she reacts to my touch." His hand slid lower on your back, his fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your rear. "You would have seen the way her breath hitches and her pulse races when I'm near. The way her eyes follow me when she thinks I'm not looking. So don't think so highly of yourself, Rafayel. She wants us both, whether she's willing to admit it or not."

His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement rushing through you. As much as you tried to deny it, you couldn't ignore the way your body responded to both of them. The way your heart raced and your skin prickled with goosebumps at their touch. You were caught between them, a pawn in their twisted game, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Some dark, hidden part of you reveled in their attention, their desire, even as your logical mind screamed at you to run.

As you turned around, to put some much needed distance between you and Sylus, you found yourself crashing against Rafayel's firm chest instead. His hands instinctively came up to steady you, one hand splaying across your lower back while the other cupped your jaw gently.

Rafayel gazed down at you, his eyes dark with emotion as they roamed over your face. They lingered on your lips for a long moment before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "Do you really want to go, y/n?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw, aching need that made your heart clench. It was clear that he didn't want you to leave, that the thought of you walking away twisted something deep inside him. His grip on you tightened slightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Behind you, Sylus let out a low, mocking laugh. "She's not going anywhere," he said confidently, his voice a dark rumble. "Are you, kitten?" His hand slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his hard chest. You could feel every contour of his muscular body pressed against you, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes.

You were trapped between them, your heart pounding wildly as you looked up at Rafayel. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of indecision, any flicker of doubt. He saw the way your breath caught in your throat, the flush that crept up your neck to stain your cheeks. And he knew, as surely as Sylus did, that despite your words, you didn't really want to go. Not when you had both of them, so close, so eager, so hungry for you. The air between the three of you was charged with a dark, electric tension, the promise of something dangerous and thrilling hanging heavily in the space between your bodies.

Sylus leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You don't want this? Then we'll move. But if you stay..." His hand slid possessively to your hip, "If you stay, you're ours. Both of us, in every way imaginable." His other hand came up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his burning gaze over your shoulder.

Rafayel's eyes flashed with a mix of triumph and dark promise as he looked down at you "You heard him, cutie," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Stay with us, and we'll give you everything you've ever wanted. Everything you never knew you needed." His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing the soft curve of your mouth.

Behind you, Sylus nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "We can give you the world. Power, pleasure, a love so intense it consumes you. You just have to say the word, and we're yours. Mind, body, and soul." His hand slid up from your hip to cup the swell of your breast, his thumb brushing over the peak of your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt.

A soft gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of Sylus's fingers grazing over the sensitive peak of your breast. Your body arched instinctively into his touch, craving more even as your mind reeled with the weight of their words.

When you turned your head to look up at Rafayel, his eyes were clouded with a mix of desire and desperation. His eyelids were hooded, his gaze heavy lidded as he stared down at you with a hunger that made your heart race. The air between you was electric, crackling with a tension that demanded release.

Acting on a primal instinct, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against Rafayel's in a kiss. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before fluttering shut, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he kissed you back with a fervor that stole your breath away.

His lips moved demandingly against yours, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you, to taste you, to consume you. One hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, while the other hand slid down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him.

Behind you, Sylus growled lowly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your breast as he watched Rafayel kiss you with a bruising intensity. "That's it, kitten," he purred darkly. "Give in to it. Give in to us."

Rafayel broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with a wild, almost manic look in his eyes. "Tell us you want this," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "Tell us you're ours, and we'll give you everything"

The kiss had only fueled the fire burning low in your belly, the ache between your thighs. You could feel the evidence of their desire pressed against you, hard and insistent and demanding. They were waiting for your answer, their bodies trembling with the effort of holding back, of giving you a chance to refuse.

You turned your head to the side, your lips finding Sylus's in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. It was different from Rafayel's kiss, darker, more demanding, more intense. Sylus kissed you like he was starving for it, like he wanted to devour you whole and consume every last piece of you.

As your lips met Sylus's, you felt Rafayel's knee press firmly between your legs, sliding up to brush against your most sensitive area through the fabric of your clothes. The sudden contact against your aching, clothed sex made you gasp, your body jolting with a surge of pleasure that quickly turned into a drawn out moan.

The sound of your pleasure echoed between the three of you as the kiss with Sylus broke, your chest heaving and your skin flushed. Sylus's eyes flashed as he heard your moan, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Listen to that sweet sound, the way you moan for us, kitten. You can't deny it anymore." His hands slid down to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes possessively as he pulled your hips back against his own. You could feel the thick, hard length of his arousal pressing your backside, leaving no doubt as to how much he wanted you.

“I bet I can get you off like this,” rafayel whispered, his voice teasing with an edge of promise. “Make you come without even putting my hands on you.”

He moved his leg, rocking it upward in a way that pressed perfectly against your clit. You whimpered loudly because, no doubt he could, but you didn’t want that.

“I want your hands on me,” you whispered. “Please"

Rafayel's eyes darkened with lust at your breathless plea, a smirk spreading across his face. "As you wish, cutie," he whispered "Tell me what you want, y/n , tell me how you want to feel my hands on you."

"Don't be shy, kitten," sylus said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "We can give you exactly what you need. All you have to do is ask."

One of Rafayel's hand slid slowly up your thigh under your skirt, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your skin prickled and tingled with anticipation as his touch crept higher and higher, inching towards the aching, empty space between your legs.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Is this where you want my hands, cutie? Right here?" His fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing and tormenting you.

You shook your head. “Higher.”

Rafayel looked at Sylus with a smirk, silently conveying a message between them. Sylus answered with a dark chuckle, his hand sliding up to the hem of your shirt.

"Of course, kitten," Sylus purred, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to stroke the bare skin of your stomach. "We want to touch you everywhere. To feel every inch of this exquisite body."

Rafayel's fingers crept higher, his touch now a mere whisper against your skin as he approached the edge of your panties. "Here?"

His eyes held a challenge, daring you to beg for it, to plead for his touch. Sylus's fingers slid up to the underside of your breast, his thumb brushing the bottom curve teasingly. They were close, so close to where you needed them, to where your body screamed for their touch.

You swallowed the embarrassment. “My…” you huffed at the words stuck in her throat. “My cunt.

Without warning, Rafayel slid his hand beneath the fabric of your panties, his fingers finding your slick, swollen folds. He groaned at the feel of your arousal, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening to pierce you with a hungry gaze.

"Fuuuuck," Rafayel breathed, his fingers stroking through your wetness, teasing your entrance. "You're fucking soaked, baby. Is this all for us?"

Behind you, Sylus growled approvingly, his hand cupping the full weight of your breast, kneading the soft flesh. "That's it, kitten. Tell us exactly what you want," he coaxed, his thumb and forefinger finding your nipple and pinching lightly.

Rafayel circled your clit with a feather light touch, not quite applying pressure, teasing you. His eyes, dark and hungry, watched your face intently, gauging your reactions to his touch. Sylus rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging on it gently as his other hand slid down to your hip, holding you in place. "Don't be shy now," his lips brushing your ear. "Tell Rafayel exactly how you want him to touch you. Be specific."

You gasped as Sylus's fingers unzipped your skirt, the sound of the zipper teeth parting echoing in the air. The skirt fluttered to the floor, leaving you clad in nothing but your damp thong. You could feel the cool air against your newly exposed skin, making you shiver.

Rafayel's eyes flicked down to your newly exposed thighs "Or maybe...you want me to rip these panties off and bury my face between your legs until you scream?"

Sylus chuckled, his hands making quick work of your shirt. Buttons went flying as he tore it open, baring your lacy bra to his hungry gaze. "Mmm, I like the way you think," his fingers deftly unhooking the clasp at the front. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching for his touch.

Rafayel's hands slid down your thighs, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation as he knelt before you. "Since you don't seem to have a preference, cutie," Rafayel murmured "I think I'll make the choice for you." He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he nuzzled into the apex of your thighs. Your thong was the only barrier left between you now, the damp fabric clinging to your swollen folds.

Sylus took the opportunity to press himself against your back, his muscular chest against your bare shoulder blades, his hips nestling your ass against his straining erection. "Let him taste you, kitten," Sylus said, his hands kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples. "I want to watch him devour your pretty little cunt until you're screaming"

Just as Sylus finished that sentence Rafayel leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your clothed slit, groaning at the taste of your arousal. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to lick and suck at your aching sex through the damp fabric, his nose nestling against your clit.

Sylus rolled and pinched your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He rocked his hips against you, his clothed cock sliding along the cleft of your ass, letting you feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you. Your head fell back against Sylus's shoulder, your fingers tangling in Rafayel's hair as you gasped and moaned, your body already writhing with pleasure.

Rafayel hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your thong and slowly peeled it down your thighs. He tossed it carelessly aside, leaving you bare and exposed before him. Sylus smirked, his eyes glinting with dark intent as he watched Rafayel admire your exposed sex. Without warning, he grabbed your thighs, his large hands easily encircling your legs just above the knees. "I think our dear Rafayel could use a little help"

You felt a tingle of Sylus's Evol power emanating from his hands, and suddenly, your thighs were lifted and positioned over Rafayel's shoulders. He grunted in surprise, quickly catching on and gripping your hips for support.

"Much better," Sylus said approvingly, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your inner thighs as Rafayel found himself face to face with your dripping, needy cunt. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot and heavy against your swollen folds. "Aren't you just the prettiest little thing." He leaned in, his tongue darting out to flick against your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. "Mmm, and you taste even better than you look," Rafayel purred, his voice a low, sinful rumble.

"Fuck, kitten," Sylus groaned, watching Rafayel work. "The way he's devouring your cunt, you'd think he was starving for it. And judging by how wet you are, I'd say you've been craving his touch just as much."

Sylus's fingers dug into the meat of your thighs, holding you in place as Rafayel licked and lapped at your folds, savoring you.

Rafayel paused his ministrations, his lips glistening with your juices as he gazed up at you, his eyes burning with intense desire. He gripped your hips tighter, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh of your ass. "If these were my last moments on this earth," Rafayel murmured, his voice a low, fervent whisper, "there is no better way to go than with your legs wrapped tightly around my head and my tongue buried deep in this pretty little cunt."

Sylus chuckled, amused by Rafayel's words. "Do you hear that, kitten?" his fingers still gripping your thighs tightly. "Rafayel is already so pussydrunk, he's ready to worship it like it's the last thing in the world." As he spoke, Sylus used his Evol to keep your legs securely draped over Rafayel's shoulders, leaving you open and exposed to his eager mouth. His other hand came down to gently, but firmly, spread your pussy lips apart, revealing the glistening pink folds within.

Rafayel's eyes darkened with lust at the sight, his tongue darting out to teasingly circle your now fully exposed clit. Sylus pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure pain straight to your core. "Go on then, Rafayel," he encouraged him "Indulge yourself. Taste every drop of our girl's sweet nectar."

He leaned down to nip at your earlobe, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Be a good girl for him, kitten. Ride his face until you drench him in your cum. Show him what this pretty cunt can do." With that, Sylus gave your nipple a sharp tug, the slight discomfort only heightening the intense pleasure radiating from your core.

Unable to resist the overwhelming urge any longer, you began to grind your hips against Rafayel's face, riding his tongue with desperate need. Soft, needy whimpers spilled from your lips as you chased the pleasure he offered. Rafayel groaned in approval, the vibrations of his voice sending delicious shivers through your core as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling you harder against his mouth. He licked and suckled at your clit, his tongue delving deep into your entrance to taste your essence directly from the source.

Sylus continued his own sensual assault, rolling and pinching your nipples between his skilled fingers. He nipped at your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking a dark mark into your skin. "Fuck, I love seeing you like this. Completely lost in pleasure, putting on a show just for us."

"That's it, kitten, grind on his face, fuck yourself on his tongue. Use him for your pleasure until you're screaming our names and gushing all over him."

Rafayel plunged two long fingers deep into your dripping cunt, curling them just perfectly to hit that special spot inside you. The sudden, intense stimulation was too much, and you came undone with a scream of pure ecstasy.

"FUCKKK!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls as your body convulsed and shook. Your inner walls clamped down around Rafayel's fingers, rippling and fluttering as a wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Rafayel continued to pump his fingers in and out of your spasming sex, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, drawing out your intense orgasm for as long as possible. He groaned in satisfaction, the sound muffled by your thighs and your gushing arousal flooding his mouth.

As the final waves of your intense orgasm subsided, you felt the warmth of Sylus's Evol dissipating from your thighs. Slowly, your legs slipped from Rafayel's shoulders, and you found yourself standing once more, positioned between the two men. Rafayel sat back on his heels, his lips and chin glistening with your essence as he gazed up at you with a look of pure satisfaction. He licked his lips, savoring your taste. When he stood, you immediately reached for the hem of his shirt, a fierce hunger in your eyes as you began to tug it upwards. He raised his arms, allowing you to peel the it off his toned body, revealing the lean muscles and smooth pale skin beneath.

Without pausing, you attacked his pants next, your fingers making quick work of the button and zipper. You yanked them down his legs, along with his underwear, leaving him just as bare as you were.

Rafayel let out a soft chuckle, amused by your eager desperation. "Eager, aren't we?" he teased. His cock jutted out proudly from a nest of dark curls, long, thick and already leaking at the tip. The sight made your mouth water, and you found yourself licking your lips unconsciously.

Sylus's hands slid around your waist, his fingers splaying across your stomach possessively. You could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. You turned around to face Sylus, your eyes filled with the same desperate, lustful hunger you had shown Rafayel. Without a word, your hands reached for the buttons of Sylus's crisp black shirt, your fingers making quick work of the buttons.

He raised a brow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you strip him with such eager desperation. "We have an impatient, kitten" He didn't resist as you shoved his shirt off his broad shoulders, revealing the network of scars that lined his skin. His chest was a work of art, each muscle clearly defined, his abs a perfect six pack.

Your fingers drifted lower, undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs. Sylus stepped out of the pooled fabric, leaving him just as bare as you and Rafayel. His cock was a thing of beauty, thick and long, curving up towards his stomach. It was already rock hard, the head an angry red and leaking copiously. "Satisfied, kitten?" Sylus asked as he towered over you.

"Gorgeous isn't he?" Said rafayel behind you "But he's going to look even better with your perfect little pussy wrapped around his cock while you ride him." He gave Sylus a playful shove, urging him to sit back on the edge of the bed. As Sylus settled himself, his back against the headboard and his legs spread wide. "Go on, cutie," his eyes blazed with anticipation as he gestured to Sylus's impressive erection, standing tall and proud between his muscular thighs. "Climb on top and give us a show. Bounce on his cock until you're both screaming"

You climbed up onto the bed, straddling Sylus's muscular thighs as you gazed down at his cock, the thick, veiny length of him jutted out, so hard it seemed to throb with need. You couldn't help but doubt if he would fit inside you, your pussy clenching nervously at the thought.

Sylus smirked, sensing your hesitation. He reached out, his large hands gripping your hips possessively as he pulled you closer, the head of his cock catching against your dripping slit. "Don't worry, kitten, you can take it"

Just then, you felt Rafayel's presence behind you. His hands slid around your waist, his fingers splaying across your stomach as he pressed himself against your back.

"Shh, relax," Rafayel murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to feel amazing wrapped around him, cutie. His cock is going to fill you up perfectly." He nipped at your shoulder, soothing you with gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. "Just take a deep breath and sink down. I promise, you'll fit every inch of him. You're going to love every second of it."

As you started to sink down onto Sylus's cock, you felt your tight walls stretching around his thick girth. Inch after inch disappeared inside you, filling and stretching you in a way you had never experienced before. However, as you reached the halfway point, you suddenly stopped, your hips hovering just above Sylus's as a flicker of panic crossed your face. You clenched down around him, your inner muscles fluttering and quivering as they struggled to accommodate his size.

"I...I don't think I can go any lower," you gasped out, your voice strained with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. "You're too big, Sylus. I can't...I can't take all of you."

Behind you, Rafayel felt your stomach bulge slightly from the massive intrusion of Sylus's cock stretching your tight walls. He rubbed soothing circles over your taut belly, murmuring words of encouragement in your ear.

"Shh, just relax, cutie," Rafayel cooed, his hands kneading the flesh of your hips and stomach. "You can take this. Breathe through it."

He angled your hips slightly, tilting them in a way that allowed you to sink down a little further. At the same time, Sylus gripped your waist tighter, his hips surging up to meet yours.

The dual movement caused you to slide down Sylus's thick shaft, impaling yourself on every last inch of his cock. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you threw your head back with a loud moan.

"FUCK!" you cried out "Oh god, Sylus! You're so deep...so big...ahhh!" Your pussy clenched and spasmed around his throbbing member, trying desperately to adjust to the stretch. You could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulsing throb and twitch of his cock buried deep inside your core. Sylus groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as your scorching heat engulfed him completely.

Rafayel glanced at Sylus, a smug grin spreading across his face as he saw the look of pure bliss etched onto his features. Sylus's eyes were squeezed shut, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of the exquisite pleasure your tight, wet cunt was inflicting upon him.

"Wow, Sylus," Rafayel teased, "Not a word? I guess congratulations are in order, cutie. Your perfect little cunt has left our friend here completely speechless."

He punctuated his words with a roll of your hips, grinding you down against Sylus's pelvis and making you both groan at the intense sensation. Rafayel's hands slid up to your breasts, kneading and squeezing the soft mounds as he played with your nipples.

"How does she feel, Sylus?" Rafayel asked with a chuckle, knowing full well the other man was too lost in pleasure to form a coherent response. Sylus could only let out another groan in response, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing ragged as he fought to maintain his composure.

Rafayel just smirked, loving the way your body had rendered Sylus at your mercy. "That's it, cutie," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "You've got him right where you want him. Now let's see if we you can make him beg for more..."

You started to move, your hands braced against Sylus's broad, muscular chest for leverage. Slowly, you lifted your hips until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down with a low moan.

Up and down you went, finding a rhythm as you rode Sylus. Your inner walls clung to him, slick and tight, creating a delicious friction that made you both groan with each movement. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing and groping every curve. He palmed your ass, spreading your cheeks and pulling you down harder onto his cock. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, guiding your movements as you bounced on his lap.

"Fuck, just like that," Sylus said, voice strained with pleasure. "Ride my cock, kitten. Take every inch of it" Rafayel watched the erotic spectacle with hooded eyes, his own arousal growing at the sight of you lost in lust.

"That's it, cutie. I want to see you fuck him into oblivion."

As you continued to ride Sylus with increasing fervor, you felt Rafayel's hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh. Just as you were about to cry out from the intense pleasure, you felt one of his hands snake around your hip, his fingers finding your sensitive, throbbing clit. He began to circle the swollen nub, rubbing and teasing it with skilled, practiced motions. The added stimulation made your walls clamp down even harder around Sylus's cock.

"Ohhh, FUCK!" Sylus roared, his head slamming back against the headboard as your clenching pussy pushed him to the brink. "Your cunt...god, it's squeezing me so fucking tightly. Don't stop, kitten. Keep milking my cock just like that."

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding on for dear life as you rode him. His hips surged up to meet yours, slamming his cock into you with deep, powerful thrusts that made your tits bounce and jiggle with each impact.

You felt Rafayel hot breath fanning over your neck as he continued to stimulate your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, ride him harder, fuck him deeper. I want to see you milk his cock for every last drop of cum. Give him the best fuck of his life."

You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your body writhing and undulating as you rode Sylus's cock with wild enthusiasm. Your cries of ecstasy filled the room, mingling with Sylus's guttural groans and Rafayel's encouragement.

The final straw that sent you both hurtling over the edge was when Rafayel's hand slid down to Sylus's heavy balls. He massaged the sensitive balls, feeling them draw up tight as Sylus's orgasm approached. At the same time, Rafayel pinched your clit hard, the sharp sting of pain blending deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure. Your pussy clenched down viciously around Sylus's cock, gripping him as your orgasm crashed over you.

"FUCK! I'm...I'm going to cum!" Sylus screamed. His cock throbbed and pulsed inside you, growing even harder and bigger as his release neared. Your screams of rapture mingled with Sylus's cries, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room as you both hurtled towards your peaks. Sylus's hips jerked and stuttered, losing rhythm as he fucked up into you.

Rafayel jerked his hips forward, grinding your clit hard against Sylus's pelvis as he felt the other man's balls draw up tight. "Now, Sylus!" Rafayel commanded. "Cum for her! Fill her little cunt with your seed!" With a final, brutal thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming pussy. His cock erupted like a geyser, painting your insides white with thick, hot ropes of cum. Jet after jet of jizz pumped into you as Sylus moaned his release, his body shuddering and convulsing beneath you.

Your combined orgasms seemed to last an eternity, your bodies shaking and shuddering as you rode out the aftershocks. Finally, you collapsed against Sylus's sweat slicked chest, both of you panting and gasping for air.

"I bet people would pay a pretty penny to see their beloved leader reduced to such a debauched state. Sylus, the great and powerful, brought to his knees by Linkon's most beautiful hunter"

Sylus gasped sharply as your laugh made your inner muscles clench and ripple around his sensitive, softening cock. He gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to maintain control.

"Don't make her laugh, Rafayel," Sylus growled, his voice still strained from the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. "Every time she does, her perfect little cunt squeezes me. Fuck, I can feel every inch of my cock even now..."

He rolled his hips up slightly, grinding his pelvis against yours and making you both groan at the sensation. Your combined juices, a mix of your arousal and his release, leaked out around his shaft, dripping down onto his balls and the sheets below.

Rafayel let out a low, appreciative whistle as he drank in the erotic sight before him, his artist's eye savoring every detail. He could see Sylus's thick, pearly essence slowly seeping out around your stretched, puffy lips where you remained impaled on the other man's cock. The creamy fluid trickled down, staining the expensive sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, what a gorgeous sight," his voice heavy with lust. "The way his cum is leaking out of your perfect little pussy, it's absolutely exquisite."

"I could paint this moment, cutie. Capture the way Sylus's release is dripping out of your sexy, well-fucked cunt... it would be my magnum opus. A masterpiece dedicated to the sheer erotic beauty of your body and its effect on him." Rafayel's hand slid down, collecting some of the leaking essence on his fingers. He brought them to his lips, making a show of licking them clean, his tongue swirling around the digits to lap up every drop of your combined juices. "Mmm, and to think, I'd only be able to paint it once I'd thoroughly tasted every drop of your combined pleasure. For art, and for my own selfish indulgence, of course."

Sylus just groaned, his fingers kneading the globes of your ass as he listened to Rafayel's words. He knew he should feel some measure of outrage at the way the other man spoke of his lover. And yet, the way your body trembled and clenched around his cock with each filthy word only served to arouse him again. It seemed there was no end to the ways you could reduce him to a state of desperate, aching need.

Before Sylus could gather the strength to fuck you again, he sat up suddenly, his hands gripping your waist tightly. With a grunt, he slowly slipped his softening cock out of your dripping cunt. You felt every thick inch of him sliding out, a fresh gush of your mixed releases spilling out of your fluttering hole as he withdrew. Then lifted you up and placed you right in front of Rafayel, your back pressing against the other man's chest. You could feel the heat radiating off Rafayel's naked body, his skin warm and slightly damp with sweat from the erotic show he'd just witnessed.

At the same time, you felt Rafayel's hard, throbbing cock press firmly against the cleft of your ass. It nestled in the valley between your cheeks, the thick shaft pulsing with need, smearing your skin with his pre-cum. His hands slid around your waist, one coming to rest low on your belly while the other cupped your breast possessively. He rolled and plucked at your nipple, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers as he ground his hips against your ass.

Sylus shifted position, lying on his stomach on the bed as he watched the two of you with a mix of satisfaction and renewed lust. He propped himself up on his elbows, his crimson eyes dark and intense as he gazed at your naked bodies.

You and Rafayel remained kneeling on the bed, your back pressed against his chest. You could his heart pounding, matching the frantic beating of your own as anticipation built between you both.

Suddenly, Sylus reached out and grabbed Rafayel's rigid cock. He gave it a few firm strokes, smearing the copious pre cum that leaked from the tip all along the thick shaft. When he lined up Rafayel's throbbing cock with your dripping entrance, a jolt of electricity seemed to course through your body. It was a thrilling mix of excitement, vulnerability and deep arousal to see Sylus's strong hand wrapped around Rafayel's cock, guiding it to penetrate you.

"Fuck, Sylus!" Rafayel gasped, his hips bucking reflexively at the sensation of Sylus's touch on his aching cock. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he tried to hold back from simply thrusting forward and burying himself inside you.

Sylus just smirked at Rafayel's reaction, his grip tightening slightly around the other man's thick shaft. He looked up at you both with a wicked glint in his eyes, enjoying the power he held in that moment.

"Go ahead, Rafayel, fuck her, claim her. Show me how much you want her, how badly you need to fill her up." With those words, Sylus pressed the swollen head of Rafayel's cock against your entrance, feeling it catch and then slowly sink into your soaked folds. The sensation made you both gasp, your head falling back against Rafayel's shoulder as your slick walls stretched and welcomed the thick intrusion.

Sylus watched with a mix of awe and lust-darkened eyes as you began to bounce on Rafayel's cock, your hips rising and falling in a sensual dance. The sight of your slick cunt swallowing up Rafayel's thick shaft over and over again was almost too much for him to bear.

"Goddamnit," Sylus swore under his breath. His eyes raked over your bouncing body, taking in the way your full breasts swayed with each movement, the hard points of your nipples just begging to be touched. He sat up on his knees and without warning, he leaned in and captured one of your bouncing nipples between his full, sensual lips. He suckled hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as he drew it into the wet heat of his mouth.

"Ohhh fuck!" you cried out, the dual stimulation of Rafayel's cock pounding into you and Sylus's mouth on your breast sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You reached back to tangle your fingers in Rafayel's short dark hair, holding him close as he pistoned his hips, driving his cock deeper and harder into your grasping cunt.

Sylus determined to mark you as his own, just as Rafayel was claiming you so roughly from behind, switched to your other breast, giving it the same treatment as he sucked hard, leaving dark hickeys blooming on your skin. His hand slid down to grope and knead the globe of your ass, holding you in place as Rafayel fucked into you. Rafayel panted harshly against your neck, his hips slapping against the globes of your ass with each powerful thrust. "God, your cunt feels incredible," he groaned, feeling your walls squeezing his cock. "So fucking tight and wet... "

As Sylus continued his assault now on your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark, claiming marks in his wake, you felt Rafayel's hot breath ghosting over your neck. His panting grew more ragged as he pistoned his hips with increasing fervor, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. In the heat of the moment, Rafayel's intense eyes locked with Sylus's dark, hungry gaze over your shoulder. For a charged second, they seemed to communicate something primal and possessive, a silent agreement passing between them. It was a look that spoke of a shared desire, a mutual hunger to lay claim to every inch of your body.

The air between them practically crackled with tension, the weight of their combined lust and desire threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel the power dynamic shifting, the balance of control tilting precariously as both men sought to assert their dominance over you in their own ways. And in a moment of dizzying desire, you grabbed both Sylus and Rafayel, pulling them in close. As you did, their faces turned towards each other, meeting in a messy, passionate kiss. It was a clash of lips and tongues, a tangle of hot breath and muffled moans. Sylus's hand slid up from your hip to grip the back of Rafayel's neck, holding him in place as he dominated the kiss. Rafayel responded just as fervently, his own hand fisting in Sylus's short white hair. And you were caught in the middle, your tongue darting out to dance and twine with both of theirs. It was a sensual, erotic dance of lips and limbs, the three of you writhing together in a tangle of sweat slicked skin and throbbing, aching need.

Throughout the messy, passionate kiss, Rafayel never ceased his relentless thrusting, his thick cock pounding into your dripping cunt. "She's close," Rafayel panted against your lips, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure. In an instant, Sylus pulled away from the messy three way kiss and shifted positions, moving back down to lie on his stomach between your spread thighs and without hesitation he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your dripping slit, tasting the heady mix of your arousal and Rafayel's pre cum. He groaned at the flavor, his grip tightening on your thighs as he held you in place, keeping you spread wide open for his hungry mouth.

Sylus focused his attention on your sensitive, throbbing clit, suckling and flicking the bud with skillful strokes of his tongue.

"Fuck, Sylus!" Rafayel grunted from behind you, his hips snapping harder, fucking into your fluttering walls as he felt your body tensing, climbing rapidly towards a shattering peak. "Don't stop, make her cum on your tongue while I fill her up!"

"I can't... it's too much," you whimpered, overwhelmed by the intense sensations assaulting your body from all sides. Your legs trembled and your toes curled as Sylus's skilled tongue pushed you to the brink of a massive climax. Rafayel just growled in your ear, his voice low and commanding. "You can. Give it to us. Cum on my cock, let go. I want to feel your sweet little cunt squeezing me as you come undone." Sylus doubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard into his mouth.

The dual stimulation was too intense to resist. Your back arched, pressing your breast into Rafayel's palm as he groped it roughly. A high, keening cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your walls clamped down viciously on Rafayel's cock, rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before. Clear fluid gushed from your spasming cunt dripping down onto Sylus's eagerly lapping tongue. Sylus just moaned in delight, lapping up your release pushing you to ride out the aftershocks of your intense climax. Behind you, Rafayel grunted and slammed into you one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt and coming with a guttural groan. You could feel his seed flooding your insides, painting your walls white as he filled you up just like he promised.

When Sylus sat back up, his chin and lips were glistening with your combined arousal. He gathered a generous amount of the slick fluid dripping from your cunt onto his long fingers. Turning to Rafayel, he commanded in a low, authoritative tone "Open your mouth, Rafayel. Taste what you've done to our girl."

As Rafayel complied, Sylus pushed his coated fingers past his lips, making him suck them clean. At the same time, Sylus turned to you, his dark eyes blazing into yours with lust and possessive hunger.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I want you to taste how fucking sexy you are" Unable to resist the commanding tone and the intense desire burning in Sylus's eyes, you parted your lips, allowing him to lean in and spit the mouthful of your mixed essence past your lips. The taste of your own arousal, blended with Sylus's and Rafayel's unique flavors, was overwhelming, you couldn't help but moan at the taste, your tongue darting out to lick your lips clean. The depravity of the act, of being fed your own cum by both of your lovers, sent a dark thrill rushing through you. You could feel Rafayel's softening cock still buried deep inside your fluttering cunt, as Sylus's fingers slid from Rafayel's mouth and he leaned in to capture your lips in a searing, filthy kiss.

As the intense sensations and emotions overwhelmed you, your body went limp, and you collapsed back against Rafayel's chest. He immediately wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you close as you both caught your breath.

"It's okay cutie," Rafayel murmured, pressing soft kisses to your temple and stroking your hair soothingly. "You did so well, taking us both like that. Such a good girl."

As he spoke, Sylus began to carefully extract Rafayel's softening cock from your dripping cunt. He gathered more of the mixed essence that leaked out in its wake, bringing his coated fingers to his mouth to lick them clean with a low, appreciative moan. Meanwhile, Rafayel shifted your limp, sated body to lie across the bed, his arms still wrapped protectively around you. He brushed your sweat dampened hair back from your face, his fingertips tracing the delicate lines of your features with a lover's tender touch.

Before the comforting darkness of sleep could claim you, you felt the gentle caress of a warm, damp cloth against your sensitive, overheated skin. Sylus was there, his touch tender and almost reverent as he began to clean the sweat and other evidence of your passionate encounter from your body.

He started at your neck, wiping away the lingering marks of his passion - the reddened skin and saliva where he had sucked and bitten in the throes of lust. The warm cloth felt soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sigh softly as Sylus took his time, meticulously cleaning every inch of your neck, collarbone, and the tops of your breasts.

As Sylus tended to you, Rafayel kept you nestled against him, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other hand continued to stroke your hair, occasionally brushing a few lingering kisses across your forehead and temple. Sylus's gentle ministrations and Rafayel's tender affections was almost too much, and you could feel yourself slipping towards a deep, well earned slumber.

Sylus worked his way down, wiping the sweat and other fluids from your stomach, hips, and thighs with the same thorough, almost worshipful focus. By the time he reached your most intimate area, your breathing had evened out and your body had gone pliant, ready to surrender to the promise of rest.

#love and deepspace #lnds #lads #lads smut #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lads x you #lnds x you #love and deepspace reader #lads sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel smut #rafayel x mc x sylus #love and deepspace rafayel

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moon-ttokki-x · 3 days ago

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hellooo, can i request a felix x fem!dating!reader where felix finds a used pregnancy test in the trash can, and freaks because it said positive and thought it was the readers? turns out its not, it was her friends, but he was super stressed and sad the he wasn’t told that ‘he was going to have a child’?(around comeback since that kinda fits in)

this was so cute :( writing sad felix almost broke my heart fr but we pushed through . . . here you goooo~

floral tea - lee felix x reader

pairing: lee felix reader

summary: when felix finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom bin, a few misunderstandings follow...

genre: sad confused felix, non-idol!au, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, piss (i promise it's one word lol i'm not sus like that), mentions of injury, blood, lots of tears from felix aww :(

a/n: divider by @g0ds-f4v-svp3rn0v4

skz masterlist

"Y/n, hey!"

You let out an excited squeal as you open the door, embracing Jiseo. It's been so long since you saw her; the last time you did, she was busy travelling for her career.

Her familiar warmth surrounds you like a fluffy blanket as you hug, and her sweet perfume lingers lightly in the summer air. No greater is the joy of meeting an old friend, and that too, completely on an unexpected whim.

"Come in," you say almost shakily from joy, cheeks flushed from the surprise.

She laughs and steps in. You switch on the kettle and sit down to talk with her as steam fills the kitchen. You sit and talk for what feels like hours, reminiscing and gossiping about almost everything. It's so good to see her again, and as a surprise, too...

You're just about to gratefully verbalize this to her when she places a hand over yours, leaning in a little.

"By the way, um, I kinda have something to tell you," she says, a little nervously, but still smiling.

You grin. "What is it?"

Jiseo laughs, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind it. "I, um- Y/n, I think I might be pregnant."

You spit out a mouthful of tea, spluttering ungracefully and splashing the table in floral essence. "What?!"

She nods, unfazed by your rather disgusting reaction. "Yeah, it- kinda just happened, you know?"

You lean forward, almost knocking over your mug, eyes so wide you're sure you look like an owl. "Do you know for sure?"

She shakes her head a little bashfully. "I don't really know... I just came here to you, because if I was going to find out, I wanted you to be with me... s-something like that anyway..."

You can't help the warm bubble that sits in your chest; Jiseo has always been so direct yet so shy at the same time. Her sentiment makes your cheeks tinge with colour as you squeeze her hand. She's probably terrified, poor thing.

"I have pregnancy tests upstairs, if you want to use one," you say, smiling gently. Her hands are clammy.

She exhales shakily. "W-would that be okay? Like, not an invasion of privacy, or-"

"Jiseo," you interrupt, chuckling. "It's okay. I promise, whether it's positive or not, I'll always be here for you. Now, go piss on that stick."

She laughs and gets up.

You carefully brew another cup of tea as a smile ghosts the corners of your mouth. Inhaling the scent of your second cup of goodness, you sit down in your previous spot and let your fingers skate over the smooth wooden table.

You can't believe Jiseo is pregnant. You couldn't be happier for her.

She left around an hour ago, after around two hours of excited screaming, cheering, and tears from the both of you. She had been terrified, but you spent so long reassuring her, and she'd gone home after disposing of the pregnancy test, in order to catch her breath before her lover came home. You wonder how they would react; they're a good person, and you hope that Jiseo feels supported and cared for throughout the whole process. You have no doubt that her and her partner are probably jumping for joy in the comfort of their own little home right now, and it makes you smile further.

You can faintly hear Felix coming through the front door now; there's the familiar, faint thuds as he kicks off his shoes and puts them to the side.

He comes into the kitchen, sunlight spilling across his frame, and you tilt your head to kiss him as he leans down to you in your chair.

"Hey, sunshine," he murmurs, stroking your hair.

"Hi. How was your day, hmm?"

He sighs and tugs off his tie. "Yeah, busy. Not too bad, though. I'm gonna get changed and then we can make dinner together?"

You nod and smile.

There's a brief moment of silence as Felix shuffles upstairs, his footsteps receding as he shuts the bathroom door. You sit and stare placidly out the window, absentmindedly sipping the cooling tea and absorbing the fading warmth of the mug.

All is quiet.

That is, until a blonde-haired tornado falls down the stairs and stumbles over to you, shirt askew and hair ruffled. You jump with a start and turn to him, about to ask what the matter is, but you're caught up short when you notice the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Love," he gasps, a borderline sob almost escaping. "What is this?"

He holds up a short, white stick and you squint, realising what it is.

Jiseo's pregnancy test.

She must have thrown it away afterwards in the bathroom bin.

You get up, holding out your hands, trying to calm Felix down and explain. "Sunshine, I-"

"No," he gasps. "No, you knew and you didn't tell me? You just threw the fucking test away- love, are you serious? Why would you do this? You didn't even think to call me when you found out you were gonna have a child? Our child?"

"Felix-"

The tears actually spill out of his eyes then, and a guilty look sets itself uncomfortably across his face. "But I swear, we were so careful- How could this happen, I didn't even know because you didn't even think to tell me you were going to eventually fucking give birth-"

"Felix!" You cry. "It's not mine, okay? Calm down."

He stops short, stuttering, tears still streaming down his cheeks in shock and distress. "What?"

You almost laugh, but then remember it might upset him further. He's still confused, after all, and he splutters further.

"W-what do you mean, it's not yours? Do you realise how bad that sounds? Wait, do you mean that the child isn't yours, or the test-"

"For goodness' sake, Felix, the test isn't mine," you say, exasperated as you tug him into a chair with some difficulty. His shirt slips off his collarbone, revealing the freckled, sun-kissed skin underneath. "One of my old friends showed up earlier and she took the test, because she had a hunch she might be pregnant. She must have thrown it away before leaving.."

He's silent for a moment, processing, and then he bursts into tears, upon which you just stare at him, utterly confused. Taking him into a hug, you let him rest his head against your stomach.

It's almost like he just got the news that he's pregnant, you think wryly. This is exactly how Jiseo reacted.

"Lix, honey," you say, a little softer. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," his muffled voice comes from your stomach. You can faintly feel tears soaking the fabric of your top. "I was so stressed, I thought we were gonna have a child, and around comeback season too, I was so scared trying to figure out how we were gonna manage it all-"

You shush and coo at him gently, stroking his ruffled hair, askew in all directions. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He shakes his head, his voice sounding faraway from where he's plowed his face into your middle. "I was worried for you too..."

You fight the warm feeling rising in your chest at his sincerity. He's never afraid to tell you how he feels, your Felix. You do feel bad for not realising Jiseo threw her test away and resultingly scaring the shit out of your lover, but you're glad that he cares enough to be upset about it.

Even if he was wrong.

You let your gaze wander down to where his hair is mussed against your shirt, and you can't help but notice the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around your waist, like he's afraid you'll float away if he lets go. You notice a small gash on his arm, the crimson startling against his pale, freckled skin.

You hum as he lifts his face, tear-streaked and swollen. "What'd you do to your arm?"

He sniffs. "I hit it on the doorway when I came down the stairs... I didn't even feel it."

You sigh, stroking the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck. "What am I gonna do with you, hmm?"

"Love me."

You chuckle. "Let's get you patched up."

a/n: listening to zero o'clock by bts while writing this and why does it fit so well . . . ttokki is sad now

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aspenmissing · 1 day ago

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I'm so happy your requests are open again!! But I'm glad you closed them for a while since you get so many and write so much for each one.❤️❤️

Could I, pretty please with a cherry on top, request arcane characters (specifically viktor, jayce and steb, if you write for him if not that's ok) with a reader that's usually well spoken and composed, think before they act kind of person. But once they're comfortable and let their guard down, they start stuttering and stumbling over their words because their mind is quicker than their mouth, and they keep getting frustrated because they can't say what they want. Kind of like an autistic person automatically unmasking when they're around someone that makes them feel safe, but they weren't planning on unmasking so they're frustrating with themselves.

Hopefully, I managed to explain what I mean😅, please do take your time. You can write it whenever.❤️❤️

~🍒

ᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ? || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5306 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ! ʏᴏᴜ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛʟʏ! ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ꜱᴛᴜᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ! ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ!

JAYCE

Piltover adored control. It thrived on meticulous planning, on rules and order, on minds that could bend chaos into something neat and palatable. You had spent your entire life mastering that balance, shaping yourself into something sharp-edged and refined, a presence that commanded respect in every room you entered.

You had learned early that precision was power. People listened when you spoke, when every word was deliberate, calculated, and polished to perfection. You were the kind of person who could dismantle an argument before it was fully formed, who could read a room and adjust accordingly, who never let emotions cloud reason.

And then there was Jayce.

Jayce Talis, all boundless enthusiasm and effortless charm, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions lead him before logic ever caught up. He was brilliant, yes, but he was also reckless, a man of impulse and grand gestures. You should have found him insufferable.

Instead, you trusted him.

That was your first mistake.

And now, you were paying for it.

"Y/N?"

Jayce’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, low and filled with something dangerously close to concern. You blinked, refocusing, only to find him watching you intently. His head was tilted slightly, brows drawn together, his lips pressed into a soft frown.

"You okay?"

No. No, you were not okay.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as heat pricked at the back of your neck. Your mind was still racing, but your mouth had completely betrayed you.

You had been explaining something—a theory, something important, something that had been circling your brain all day like a restless storm. The words had been there, clear and coherent in your mind, but the moment you had let them out, they had tangled, tripped, collapsed into a jumbled mess of half-formed sentences and stammered syllables.

Jayce had been patient. He hadn't interrupted, hadn't tried to fill in the gaps. He had just waited, listening, giving you the space to get the words out.

But you hadn't been able to.

Your stomach twisted. You were used to control, to confidence, to certainty. But now—now your tongue felt heavy, your thoughts moved faster than your mouth, and the more you tried to push the words out, the more they refused to cooperate.

Why now?

Why him?

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding against your throat. You had spent years perfecting this—honing your speech into something unshakable. And yet, in the presence of Jayce fucking Talis, your brain had apparently decided to throw itself off a cliff.

“I— I was t-trying to say—” The words broke, stumbled over themselves, catching on your tongue like jagged stones. Your breath hitched. Your hands twitched. You could feel the frustration rising, tightening in your chest like a vice. “It’s— it’s not— ugh! It’s in my head, I j-just can’t—”

Your jaw snapped shut, teeth clenching hard enough to ache. The silence that followed was deafening.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You couldn't even look at him.

Jayce didn’t fill the silence.

He didn’t push, didn’t try to smooth over your faltering words, didn’t do anything except stand there, watching you with an expression that was far too soft.

That, more than anything, made something in you crack wide open.

“I’m s-sorry,” you muttered finally, jaw tight, frustration burning beneath your skin like wildfire. “I d-don’t— I d-don’t usually—”

Jayce smiled. Not the politician’s smile, not the confident smirk he wore for the world. This was different. Smaller. Softer. Real.

“I know,” he said simply.

You froze.

Your eyes snapped up to his, searching—for what? Mockery? Pity? Some kind of forced reassurance? Something that would justify the knot of shame twisting in your gut?

But there was none.

Jayce just knew.

The realization hit like a punch to the ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs.

How long had he noticed? Had he always known? You had spent your entire life perfecting the mask, ensuring every word was polished before it ever left your lips. But somehow, without even trying, Jayce had seen through it.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. "I mean, I figured. You’re always so careful with your words, but sometimes, when you get comfortable, you just... go."

His smile widened, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "It’s kinda cute."

Your brain completely short-circuited.

Cute?

You could have handled pity. Could have handled irritation or even indifference. But this? This stupid, easy, genuine affection?

Your stomach flipped violently. Heat crawled up your neck. You stared at him, wide-eyed, caught between mortification and something you didn’t quite have a name for.

Jayce shifted, suddenly uncertain. “Not that it’s bad! Or— or weird, or anything. It’s just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I just mean, you don’t have to force it with me. However you talk, however you think—I want to hear it.”

Your throat tightened.

You had spent years forcing it, shaping yourself into something the world could understand, something presentable. You had never expected to find someone who didn’t mind the unfiltered version of you—who actually liked it.

The thought was terrifying.

The thought was freeing.

Your hands twitched again, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration. Slowly, cautiously, you let yourself breathe.

Jayce grinned. "There it is."

You scowled, heat creeping up your neck. "Sh-shut up."

Jayce laughed, bright and easy, like you hadn’t just had a full-on existential crisis in front of him.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to rehearse what came next.

Maybe—just maybe—some things didn’t need perfect words.

Maybe you didn’t need them.

Not with him.

VIKTOR

The laboratory was quiet, save for the gentle hum of machinery and the rhythmic tapping of Viktor’s cane against the floor. The scent of parchment, metal, and something faintly ozone-like filled the air, the ever-present signs of scientific discovery in motion. Y/N sat perched on a stool beside one of his many workbenches, her hands moving animatedly as she tried—emphasis on tried—to explain a theory she had been mulling over for weeks.

Usually, she was composed, articulate, the kind of person who measured each word before releasing it into the world. A person who never spoke without intention. A person whose thoughts were always carefully curated before they left her lips.

But that version of her had been left behind the moment she grew comfortable in Viktor’s presence.

Now, words tumbled from her lips in an erratic cascade, her thoughts outrunning her tongue like a stampede she had no hope of controlling.

“So—so, if you, um, if you factor in the—the—ugh, the—okay, okay, wait—if you consider the way—ugh, no, that’s not—” She groaned, gripping her hair in frustration as she tried to catch up with herself. “Okay, what I’m trying to say is that—oh, never mind.” She threw her hands in the air and slumped forward, practically melting onto the workbench.

Viktor chuckled softly, the sound warm and indulgent, like he was enjoying a particularly amusing scientific observation. “You were doing quite well. Please, continue.”

Y/N shot him a glare, though there was no real heat behind it, only the kind of irritation reserved for someone she trusted not to judge her. “I was not doing well.”

“On the contrary,” he said, leaning slightly against his cane, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “I quite enjoy watching you speak when you are truly invested. It is… animated.”

She let out a dramatic groan and buried her face in her hands. “It’s infuriating is what it is. My brain is working faster than my mouth can keep up, and now I sound like an idiot.”

He hummed, a small, knowing smirk playing at his lips. “Ah, but I think it is quite endearing.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His smirk widened, and he tapped his cane lightly against the floor. “Just a little.”

Her groan was muffled against her palms, and Viktor chuckled again, watching her with the same quiet, unshaken patience he always had. She never had to apologize for her words with him, never had to fear looking foolish. He listened, even when she made no sense, even when she grew frustrated with herself. And worst of all, she knew he wasn’t just humouring her—he actually liked watching her get lost in her own excitement.

“Would it help,” he mused, “if I attempted to guess what you are trying to say?”

She peeked at him again, skepticism written all over her face. “…What, like a game?”

“Of sorts.” He tilted his head, his grin taking on a teasing edge. “Let us see if I can translate your brilliance before you become too flustered.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips now. “Alright, genius, give it a try.”

Viktor straightened, adopting a faux-serious expression. “You were trying to explain a new variable in your experiment, something that has been overlooked in traditional calculations. However, the implications are complex, and you are frustrated because you want to articulate the exact significance without losing momentum.”

Y/N blinked at him. Then blinked again.

“…Damn it,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “That was almost exactly what I was trying to say.”

Viktor’s grin turned victorious. “I will take that as a win.”

She huffed but couldn’t stop the warmth from creeping up her neck. Despite her frustration, there was something undeniably comforting about the way Viktor simply listened, the way he never seemed annoyed by her occasional verbal trainwrecks. If anything, he found them charming.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t mind that so much.

JAYVIK

The Piltover gala was as extravagant as ever—glittering chandeliers, golden champagne, and an overwhelming crowd of scholars, council members, and socialites who seemed more interested in flaunting their wealth than discussing anything of substance. You had attended these events countless times before, always maintaining your polished demeanor. Your words were measured, your posture poised, and your mask of composure carefully crafted.

At least, until you got comfortable.

The night had started smoothly. You moved through the crowd effortlessly, engaging in discussions on politics, technology, and academia with the same ease as a seasoned diplomat. It wasn’t that you were pretending to be someone you weren’t—you were intelligent, well-spoken, and composed. It was just that keeping your thoughts neatly packaged and your speech precise required effort.

And then, a group of scholars approached, intrigued by your involvement in the latest Hextech advancements. The conversation drifted toward the complexities of stabilizing arcane energy in compact devices—an area of research that you had poured your heart and soul into. Excitement sparked in your chest. You leaned in slightly, eager to share your thoughts.

That was when everything began to fall apart.

“Well, uh, s-so, the—the thing about Hextech, right, is that it’s—um, it’s volatile, but not—uh—ugh, no, I mean—so, like, if you—okay, okay, let me—” You gestured wildly with your hands, words tripping over themselves in a desperate attempt to keep up with your thoughts.

The scholars exchanged puzzled glances. One man furrowed his brows. “I’m… sorry, what exactly are you saying?”

Embarrassment hit you like a freight train. Your stomach twisted, and frustration burned at the back of your throat. You knew the answer. It was so clear in your head. But the words wouldn’t come out the way you wanted them to.

And then—

“She means,” Viktor’s voice cut through the awkward silence, smooth as silk, “that the instability of raw energy makes miniaturization particularly challenging. The frequency shifts unpredictably, which is why traditional containment methods fail.”

You blinked as he appeared beside you, leaning lightly on his cane. His amber eyes held amusement, but his tone carried an unmistakable warmth, as if he found your struggle endearing rather than embarrassing.

“Exactly,” Jayce added, stepping up on your other side. Ever the charismatic presence, he offered the group an easy grin, effortlessly slipping into the conversation. “That’s why we’ve been experimenting with precision-tuned matrices. We’re trying to stabilize the fluctuations instead of suppressing them.”

Relief flooded your system. The scholars’ expressions shifted from confusion to comprehension, nodding along as Jayce and Viktor elaborated on your idea with the same excitement you had intended to convey.

Your shoulders relaxed slightly, but the residual embarrassment still prickled at the edges of your composure. You turned your face toward Viktor and Jayce, lowering your voice so only they could hear.

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling warm and a little sheepish.

Viktor’s lips curled into a smirk. “No need to thank us, můj drahý,” he murmured, his voice teasing but undeniably fond. “It’s rather charming, watching you get flustered.” (My Dear)

Jayce chuckled, reaching over to brush a thumb across your cheek in an affectionate gesture. “Yeah, you should let loose more often,” he mused, his grin widening. “You’re kinda cute when your brain short-circuits.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “I hate you both.”

Viktor tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming mischievously. “Oh? Then perhaps we should let you fend for yourself next time?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his in horror. “Don’t you dare.”

Jayce laughed, sliding a warm, strong arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Relax,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got you.”

Viktor let out a soft chuckle before reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a gentle squeeze. “Always.”

With them beside you, the night didn’t seem so unbearable anymore.

VANDER

Vander always admired the way you carried yourself. Composed, measured, deliberate. A mind as sharp as a dagger, words chosen like the perfect hand in a game of cards. It was part of what drew him to you. In a place like Zaun, where chaos ruled and emotions ran hot, you were a steady presence—unflappable, always thinking before speaking, always in control.

That was, of course, until you let your guard down.

He’d noticed it the first time you'd lingered in the bar after hours, long after the usual crowd had stumbled home. A few drinks in, boots kicked up, letting yourself relax for once—and suddenly, words tangled on your tongue, tripping over themselves in their rush to be spoken. You’d furrowed your brows, lips pressing together in frustration, trying to force them into order. It had been endearing, to say the least.

And, apparently, the kids had noticed too.

Now it was a game.

"Come on, just one little ramble," Vi grinned, perched on the counter of The Last Drop, arms crossed with a knowing look. "Tell us about, I dunno, the history of Piltover’s trade routes or something."

You shot her a glare, but it lacked any real heat. "I—That’s not—"

"Or maybe about how different alchemical components react to heat," Mylo chimed in, a wicked smirk on his face.

Claggor, the more merciful of the bunch, just shook his head, though even he was biting back a chuckle.

You inhaled deeply, steeling yourself. "I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t—"

"You sure? You’re already hesitating." Vi dangled her legs over the edge of the counter. "Bet you can’t explain somethin’ real fast without trippin’ over yourself."

You narrowed your eyes. "I—"

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. You had the words in your head—so many of them—but as soon as you tried to get them out, they jammed up in your throat, stumbling over each other like a pileup in the middle of the bridge.

Your jaw clenched.

Vander chuckled from his spot behind the bar, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that amused, knowing smile.

"Don’t encourage them," you huffed, turning to him with exasperation. "They—They’re doing this on purpose!"

"Oh, I know." His grin deepened. "But I gotta admit, it’s kinda adorable."

Your face burned. "It’s—it’s not adorable, it’s—frustrating!" Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to string together a proper retort, but the words kept getting away from you. "Infuriating!"

Vi and Mylo were grinning ear to ear, fully enjoying the spectacle.

Vander, on the other hand, just walked over, resting a heavy, warm hand on your shoulder. His touch was grounding, like solid stone beneath unsteady feet. "Take your time, love," he murmured, voice low and warm, meant just for you. "Ain’t a race."

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment, letting his presence settle you.

The kids, of course, weren’t satisfied with that.

"You should’ve seen her the other day," Vi snickered. "She was tryin’ to tell Benzo about some new Piltie security measures and nearly short-circuited. Just—" she waved her hands dramatically— "total breakdown."

You groaned. "Vi."

"And you get all fidgety, too," Mylo added, grinning. "Like your hands try to talk for you when your mouth can’t keep up."

"Probably ‘cause she’s gotta keep up with that big ol’ brain of hers," Claggor said, nudging you gently. "Nothing wrong with that."

That earned him a little glare from Mylo, but you—despite your frustration—sighed and relaxed slightly.

Vander gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting his hand fall away. "You don’t gotta be perfect all the time," he murmured. "We like you just fine the way you are—even when you trip over yourself."

You huffed. "You say that, but—"

"But nothin’," he interrupted, tipping his head slightly. "Ain’t gotta have every word come out polished. Sometimes the best ones don’t."

You glanced at him, and despite yourself, your heart softened. Damn him and his easy way of making you feel seen.

Vi, of course, ruined the moment.

"Bet if Vander asked you somethin’ real nice, you’d really start stuttering," she teased.

Your stomach flipped. "I—That’s—"

And, as expected, the words tangled up all over again.

Vander laughed, and this time, even you couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing a hand over your face in resignation.

The kids cheered in victory.

SILCO

Silco had always admired your composure.

In a world teeming with chaos and deception, you were a rare creature—one who wielded words like a scalpel, precise and measured. Whether negotiating with smugglers or diffusing tension in The Last Drop, your speech was always deliberate, your tone unwavering. It was something that set you apart, something that made you invaluable.

And then there were moments like these.

Moments when your guard slipped. When the walls you so carefully constructed crumbled, not from fear or anger, but from something far more dangerous—comfort.

Sitting across from him in his office, with a tumbler of whiskey half-forgotten at your side, you were completely at ease. It was a rare sight, one he relished. The tension that usually sat in your shoulders had eased, and for once, you weren’t calculating your every word before speaking.

Which meant—

“I j-just—ugh, no, wait, I—wh—wha—”

Silco watched with a bemused smirk as you stumbled over your words, frustration flickering across your face as your mind outpaced your tongue. Your fingers curled into your lap, gripping at fabric as if that might help slow your thoughts down enough to articulate them properly.

A lesser man might have laughed. Might have teased you for the stammer that had replaced your usual eloquence. But Silco was not a lesser man.

Instead, he simply raised a brow. “Having trouble, my dear?”

Your lips pressed into a firm line, cheeks heating in frustration. “I—I know what I want to s-say, it just—” You huffed sharply, shaking your head. “It won’t come out right.”

Silco hummed, swirling his whiskey before taking a slow sip. He let the silence settle, his gaze steady, patient. “I don’t mind.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, uncertain. “Y-you don’t?”

“If I wanted idle chatter, I wouldn’t have chosen you.” He leaned forward, placing his glass down with a soft clink. “Your words have always mattered. Stammer or not.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Silco never wasted words, and he certainly never offered empty reassurances.

Something in your chest warmed.

But of course, peace never lasted long in Zaun.

The room was dimly lit, thick with the scent of smoke and whiskey. Shadows clung to the corners, pooling in the cracks of the old wooden walls. A lantern flickered overhead, its dull glow barely penetrating the haze. The air was heavy, tense with the weight of yet another exhausting supplier meeting—one of many that drained your patience. You preferred efficiency, precision, but men like Varn made that impossible.

Varn was one of Silco’s smugglers, a man who carried himself with the kind of arrogance only emboldened by ignorance. He had been droning on about the Enforcers, about how difficult it had become to slip shipments past their patrols. Complaints, excuses—never solutions. You listened, expression unreadable, even as irritation prickled at your composure.

Still, you remained poised. Even as frustration coiled tight in your chest, even as your thoughts outran your tongue, snagging your words before they could fully take shape.

“The—Th-the next s-shipment will—” You clenched your jaw, closing your eyes for half a second. Breathe. Focus. Try again.

“It will arrive t-tomorrow. Docks. Late.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Varn scoffed. He leaned back in his chair, his smirk carved deep with mockery. “Didn’t realize Silco was hiring broken records now.” He tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythmic pattern. “Maybe if we give you a minute, you’ll get through the whole sentence, yeah?”

The words hit like a slap.

Not because they were the worst you had ever heard. Not because they were new. But because he said them here.

In Silco’s domain.

The air shifted.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. It slithered between the bodies at the table, curling around throats like an unseen noose. The temperature hadn’t changed, yet a cold dread settled in your stomach.

Because Silco was watching him now.

He had not moved, had not even spoken. But the weight of his gaze was enough to send a chill down your spine. His fingers traced the rim of his glass in slow, deliberate circles, the rhythmic motion a stark contrast to the simmering menace behind his mismatched eyes.

Varn, still oblivious to the razor-thin ice he had stepped onto, chuckled. He expected others to join in.

No one did.

Silco’s voice cut through the silence like a blade slipping through silk.

“Broken record?”

Varn hesitated, his bravado flickering. “I—I only meant—”

Silco stood.

It was an unhurried motion, almost lazy, yet it sent a ripple of unease through the room. He didn’t need to rush. The sheer gravity of his presence filled the space, a silent warning wrapped in elegance.

“You talk too much, Varn.” His tone was smooth, deceptively calm. “And yet, somehow, you still say nothing of value.”

Varn swallowed. The confidence that had bloomed so easily in his voice a moment ago had withered under Silco’s scrutiny. “I didn’t mean any offense, boss.”

Silco exhaled slowly, tilting his head as though examining a specimen under glass. “Ah, but that’s the problem, isn’t it?” He took a measured step forward. “You didn’t think.” Another step. “Didn’t stop to consider the weight of your words.”

Varn flinched as Silco came to a halt beside him, his hand resting lightly on the back of the chair, fingers idly drumming against the wood.

“You see,” Silco murmured, leaning down so his lips hovered near Varn’s ear, “I detest people who waste my time.”

The room was still. Deathly still.

“Do you know why I keep her by my side, Varn?” His voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it sliced through the air with precision.

Varn’s breath hitched.

Silco let the question linger, then turned his gaze toward you. Something flickered in his expression—something softer, something almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless.

“Because every word she says matters,” he continued, voice smooth as glass. “She does not waste them on arrogance, nor on fools.”

The message was clear.

Varn was a fool.

And Silco had no use for fools.

Without hesitation, Silco retrieved the knife from his coat pocket. He did not flourish it, did not draw attention to it. He didn’t need to. The soft glint of steel against the dim light spoke loudly enough.

Varn stiffened as the cold tip pressed just under his chin, tilting his head up ever so slightly. His pulse jumped beneath the blade’s edge.

“If you ever speak of her that way again,” Silco murmured, voice silk over steel, “I’ll make sure the only sounds you’re capable of are whimpers.”

Varn’s breath stuttered. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, as if fighting the urge to tremble.

Silco leaned in closer. “And those who whimper in my presence,” he mused, almost thoughtful, “don’t last long.”

A moment stretched—sickening, suffocating.

Then, just as smoothly as it had appeared, the knife vanished. Silco straightened, slipping it away with practiced ease.

“Get out,” he said coolly.

Varn bolted.

The door slammed behind him, leaving nothing but the distant echoes of his hurried footsteps. The silence that followed was deafening, your own heartbeat the only sound pounding in your ears.

Silco settled back into his chair as though nothing had happened, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a measured sip.

He glanced at you, an amused glint dancing in his gaze. “Something on your mind?”

You swallowed, still processing what had just transpired. “I think...” You inhaled sharply, pressing your lips together before continuing again. “You just scared the stutter out of me.”

Silco smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in something almost affectionate. “A pity.” He leaned back, exhaling contentedly. “I was rather fond of it.”

Your cheeks burned, though this time, frustration had nothing to do with it.

STEB

The cobblestone streets of Piltover stretched ahead, glistening under the dim glow of the hextech lamps. The city was quiet at this hour, a far cry from the usual midday bustle of merchants, students, and enforcers barking orders at troublemakers. Now, only the occasional carriage rattled over the stones, the faint hum of distant machinery threading through the silence.

A quiet evening patrol—just another night of keeping order.

Y/N walked beside Steb, hands tucked neatly behind her back, each step measured, uniform pristine. Composure was something she valued, something she cultivated. Every action was deliberate. Every word carefully chosen. In a city like Piltover, where reputation carried more weight than gold, she refused to be anything less than precise.

But somewhere along the way, she had grown comfortable.

And comfort, she was learning, came with its own set of problems.

Because comfort made her talk.

And once she started talking, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“…and it’s just, you know, ridiculous that the new regulations say we need approval for every hextech enhancement when—no, actually, it’s not ridiculous, I get the safety measures, but—I mean, does it really make sense to lump minor repairs in with full-scale augmentations? Like, say you have a gauntlet with a minor power fluctuation—”

Her words tripped over each other like a pile of toppled playing cards. She exhaled sharply, trying to recalibrate, but the second she opened her mouth again—

“—and, and it’s like, I get it, okay, regulation is important, but if we’re—ugh, damn it—if we’re patrolling and need—ugh—if we need to—gah—words!”

She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples as if she could physically force her brain and mouth to work together.

Steb, who had been walking beside her in comfortable silence, turned his head slightly.

His eyes flickered over her face, unreadable, calm. He had the kind of quiet presence that never demanded space but occupied it effortlessly. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was never more than necessary. A sharp contrast to her current mess.

Y/N let out a defeated sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “I swear I’m not an idiot.”

A pause. Then—

“…It’s okay.”

Two words. Simple. Steady. But there was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t just an automatic reassurance, like he meant it.

When she finally forced herself to look at him, he was already gazing ahead, his usual neutral expression softened by the faintest curl of a smile. Not mocking. Not pitying. Just… there. Steady.

And that was somehow worse.

Her heart lurched painfully in her chest, and she hastily turned her face away, rubbing at her temple as if that could chase away the heat creeping up her neck.

“…Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. “I know.”

They kept walking.

She tried to keep her mouth shut. She really did. But silence felt so much heavier now. And despite her frustration, despite the way her brain constantly outran her mouth, she didn’t mind talking to Steb. It wasn’t like talking to anyone else—there was no pressure to fill the quiet, no expectation of a response.

So before she could stop herself—before she could consider if it was wise—her lips parted again.

“Y-you—” She winced at the stumble, frustration already bubbling up again. “Ugh, damn it—you never talk much, huh?”

Steb didn’t react right away. He simply existed beside her, steps never faltering, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Then, after a long beat—

“…No.”

Y/N huffed out a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah, I, uh—I noticed.”

Silence stretched between them once more, but this time, it was lighter.

She fiddled with the cuff of her uniform sleeve, suddenly hyperaware of how unraveled she sounded. How her tongue kept tripping over itself. She never did this with anyone else.

Just him.

Why just him?

“You, uh…” She swallowed. “You ever get frustrated when you do talk?”

He didn’t answer right away, but she could feel him considering it.

Finally—

“…No.”

She blinked up at him.

His eyes, though still their usual blank, unreadable dark, held a flicker of quiet amusement.

“Oh, well, good for you, then,” she grumbled, dragging a hand down her face. “Meanwhile, I sound like I got into a bar fight with the alphabet.”

Steb exhaled—a sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle but was close enough.

She turned to glare at him. “You think that’s funny, don’t you?”

A pause. Then, a small nod.

“…You’re the worst,” she muttered, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

They kept walking.

The city was quiet, but her mind wasn’t. It was racing—jumping from one thought to another, desperate to form a coherent sentence before it got tangled up again.

Instead, what slipped out was—

“We make a good team, huh?”

Steb glanced at her, tilting his head slightly in silent question.

“I mean—” She waved vaguely between them. “Someone who talks too much, someone who barely talks at all. Kinda funny, don’t you think?”

Another long pause. His expression didn’t change, but she could tell he was thinking about it.

Then, in that same steady, measured voice—

“…Yeah.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the tension in her chest easing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Steb didn’t say anything, but his lips twitched—just a fraction, just enough for her to know it was there.

She decided she liked it.

And though she still stumbled over her words, still fought with her own tongue, she didn’t feel so bad about it anymore.

Request Answer Continue: My dear Cherry, I hope you enjoyed the Steb! And no need to apologise! I am willing to write for characters one off! And from what I've read about Steb, he may or may not talk, so I went with the headcanon where he does talk, but barely. So I do hope it's alright! <3

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #steb x reader

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