#and the train line isn’t as long so

[caraphemera]

should i go thrifting this weekend 🤔

[readwritealldayallnight]

in case you missed it, little add on to this idea where Simon decides you’re his wife

When the Captain first overhears tidbits about how his Lieutenant is supposedly giving the newest recruits an especially hard time, he chuckles to himself, thinking that it isn’t anything they can’t handle, not if they’re going to make it in this line of work anyway

But then he catches the end of a conversation between two medics, complaining about how they’ve never had to tend to so many injuries from the rookies in training before, and he thinks maybe Ghost was having an off day at the time, needed to let off some steam, no real harm done in the end

Which is strange though, when one of his sergeants comes whining about how ‘LT’s gone right soft, pure gallus! One bonnie lass was all it took and he’s now got manners, ya ken! Absolutely braw sight I tell ya, Cupid’s arrow stickin’ out of his arse-’

Price wasn’t even entirely sure Simon knew how to use his cell phone, surprised to find him suddenly glued to the device, answering only for a specific chime, but always answering instantly when it went off

It isn’t all that long however, until Price walks into his office one day and finds Ghost already sat at his desk and waiting for him, wanting to know more about marital leave, and benefits for spouses, and how soon could the Captain become ordained because there’s a ceremony he’d like him to officiate soon if he wouldn’t mind-

You’re especially confused when the guard who checks your ID at the gate each morning tells you ‘Congratulations by the way, Mrs Riley’ as he hands you a new pass that- sure enough- has Riley written as your last name

Series masterlist

[spurbleu]

to me it’s an inherent truth that ghost is socially “ugly”

scars that are uneven and pucker skin because he had hastily sewn lacerations together. burn scars on his back and hands, with skin that wrinkles like haphazard gills across his abdomen. blonde hair gene that makes his eyelashes and eyebrows near invisible. a crooked, broken nose that hardly works unless he brings whatever smells right to his nostrils.

and it wasn’t a sob story. he’s wasn’t insecure because to him it really isn’t all that important. at the end of the day the body he’s been put in sleeps, eats, and kills. fucks good, if it feels like it. that’s all he’s ever needed.

it’s not until you come into the picture, domestically enough, that he does start to care.

starts small, like checking if there was anything in his teeth, or smoothing out that one hair that likes to plant itself over his forehead.

the trivial, small details that furrow in between his ironed apathy.

then, insecurity blooms. found where one scar begins and the next ends. he stops lingering at the mirror, and wears thicker clothes because “london’s fuckin’ freezin”. keeps his eyes trained ahead when you shop downtown, so he doesn’t catch a glimpse of himself next to you in the store windows.

doesn’t realize how bad it had gotten until you, who had picked up on his lack of subtly and libido, asked him to take a bath.

with you.

and suddenly he’s rendered a quiet, awkward bastard in your flat bathroom, that is much too small for him.

you run the water to a boil and put relaxing salts in while he strips. he sits down with his mouth in a firm line because what the fuck is he supposed to say when his bird massages shampoo into his hair and hums a song that isn’t his favorite but becomes one when she kisses his cheek while at the chorus.

watches with wavering interest as bubbles form from the soap and the water begins to cool. hasn’t said a word since you started the strange routine that makes him feel raw and vulnerable in a way that he characterizes as childish.

“you’re so handsome, si.”

you’re swiping lotion onto his face. he hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“what?”

you laugh and swipe a thumb under his crooked nose, over the cleft lip. fingers trace the scar that runs up his cheek.

you hold his ugly in your hands. and you find him…handsome. he’s seen a liar and you can’t be one for the life of you. it disturbs him, that whatever comes from you lips isn’t just a compliment, but an observation.

what a foreign thing, to be given someone’s truth so easily.

the room gets quiet aside from the foam whispers and sputter of water when his legs shift.

“I said,” you kiss him gently, “I think you’re handsome.”

the apathy to his appearance never returns. however, the harshness is retired for however long you continue to hold him.

he will be whatever you want him to, and if that means he’s handsome, then a good place to start is believing you when you tell him so.

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[pixie-felix]

a/n: inspired by @hyunjinx42 (specifically this), suggested by @arestoucries

-as you sink down on his c*ck after a long day of work- @hyunjinx42

Just a short little something something to try break feed the absolute chokehold Railway Chan has us all in. Inspired by @hyunjinx42, suggested by @arestoucries. As always, smut under the cut, minors dni.

Content warnings: breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, ancient vine references (just the one, let me know if you found, I made myself laugh and then I couldn't take it out). 1.9k

I accidentally posted this earlier today when I was still working on the draft 🤣 this is the complete version, so if you were disappointed earlier hopefully this will make up for it

T a k e a S e a t

You know exactly what Chan wants when he sits down in that chair. 

Tie loosened, hair mussed, eyes dark as he looks you over like a cat eyeing the most delicious bowl of cream.

“So, you were watching me all day.” 

“Of course I was watching you. It was your MV shoot.” You keep your voice light, but the intensity of his gaze is making you tingle all over. Not to mention the hint of the devil in his smile, quirking the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I was watching you too. Come here.” He beckons you over, that familiar come hither motion of his fingers sending a strong jolt of arousal to your belly and your mind straight into the gutter. 

It might just be because he's been playing a vampire all day but you feel powerless to resist him. Walking towards him, and that chair, like a woman hypnotised.

That devil's smirk spreads as you move into arms reach, shivering as he reaches out a hand to stroke your leg. Just the inch of bare skin, above your knee and below your skirt.

“Did you choose this outfit just for me, sweetheart?”

This outfit being a not-quite-knee-length pleated skirt, a silk shirt buttoned up to the neck, and what the fashion magazines might describe as a smart casual blazer. It's giving “slutty schoolgirl meets business casual.”

Had you chosen this outfit especially for Chan, knowing about his purity kink and the fact you'd be in his eye line but just-out-of-reach all day?

You bet Chan's sweet ass you did. 

And he knows it too, knows it in the way you shiver as he lightly runs those fingers, a barely there feather touch, up your leg. Under your skirt. Slowly, closer and closer to where all that want is bubbling in your gut.

“I thought so. Such a tease.” Under that playful tone there's something low, something dark. Something that makes itself known when scrapes his nails back down your thigh, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough that you know if you were to look there’ll be five red lines marking your flesh. Dragging his fingers away from where you want them, where you need them, taunting you with a smile that tells you he knows how your cunt is clenching over nothing.

“I wasn’t the only one watching you though, was I?” Marking. He’s fucking marking you. 

“Channie…” 

“That’s not my name.” 

“...Chris?”

“Not today sweetheart.”

Oh. Oh. 

Oh boy.

“...Daddy?”

“Good girl.” His voice is all low and growly, and he tugs you forward by your knees until you’re standing astride his lap and hands are running up the backs of your thighs again, alternately stroking and scratching as he smiles up at you. 

“Do you even know what you do to me? What it’s like having to pretend you’re not mine. Having to watch guys like that following you all day, flirting with you, eyefucking you, and not being able to do a damn thing about it?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. Chan is jealous. You were training the director's new PA today, some guy who’s name you’ve already forgotten. And Chan is jealous. 

As if he isn’t the most gorgeous man on the planet, a professional wet dream, and your long term boyfriend who’s been dicking you down dumb for the last 4 years. 

And if he wants to talk about unfairness, let’s talk about work. Watching him film that scene today, in this very chair, where an orgy of dancers were writhing on him. In fucking handcuffs. And he was sitting there with that look on his face. Yes yes, work is work, and acting is acting, the hazards of dating an idol etc etc…

But watching your man sit with a crowd of strangers slithering on his lap, that special expression on his face you only see when you’re sinking down on his cock after a long day of work, in that goddamn chair…

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” The question is innocent, the look in Chris’ eyes is not. He's completely Chris now, all signs of sweet Chan gone, replaced by the hungry, almost feral creature that likes it when you call him daddy. “Are you thinking about all those dancers from earlier, sitting on me, touching on me…”

“Yes, Daddy…” you whisper, blush creeping across your ears. It's like he's staring right into your soul, reading your thoughts and revelling in how you put up no resistance. He can invade all your private places and you let him, you're an open book to him

“Did it drive you crazy?” His voice is a low whisper, heavy with lust and wanting. “Did you want to come and sit on my lap instead, come and claim what's yours?"

You're too turned out to speak, your voice a whimper rather than words. “Daddy… don't tease…”

He smiles slowly at you, reaching up your skirt and slowly dragging your panties down your thighs.

“Then come warm this cock my love. Daddy's been waiting all day.”

It's almost musical, the sound Chris makes as you sink down on his dick, somewhere delicious between a moan and a grunt. It's almost too much, the way he stretches you. You cling to his shoulders and hide your face in his neck as you whine, nipping at his neck as you desperately try to ground yourself.

“Mmm… so good…” Chris has his hands on your hips, guiding you until you're settled on his thighs, his cock fully sheathed inside you. “Such a good girl. So perfect for me.”

He's almost too big to fit, your pussy stuffed fuller than full, at it's absolute limit. Teetering on the cusp of what feels good and what doesn't.

He's mercifully gentle, running his hands up your back, stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles.

“You're doing so good, baby. Just relax, relax for me baby.” He hisses when you lean a little more forward, mewling into his neck into his neck and holding him tighter as the change in angle causes your pussy to spasm and stretch, barely able to bear it.

“I want.. I…”

“What do you want, babygirl?” Concern creeps into his turn, worried that maybe his dick is too big, maybe you’re not enjoying it. “Am I hurting you? We can stop if it's too much.” He presses kisses into your hair, brushing some out of your face as he tries to look you in the eyes.

“No Daddy… please don't stop. You feel… so good…” Chris sighs in relief, stroking your face tenderly. “Will you… will you…”

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

“I can't… I want…” You shake your hips lightly, barely moving but Chris' dick is stretching you so full it feels as intense as if he was pounding you out, hips snapping as he tried to fuck you through the mattress.

Chris makes a strangled sound, the drag of your velvety walls almost driving him to madness.

“What do you need, babygirl.” His voice is hoarse with the effort of holding still. “Just tell me. Tell me baby, please, you're driving me mad…”

“Daddy,” your voice is almost a sob, “Daddy, please… It feels so good. You feel so good, inside me…” Chris has to bite his lip to keep from swearing at how good you're making him feel. He loves is when you talk dirty.

“Baby, if you keep saying things like that…”

“Breed me, Daddy. Please. Please.” Chris presses a shaky, kiss to your lips, gentle and tender, trying to distract himself from how every single muscle in his body tenses up and he's pretty sure his balls just turned blue.

“You sure…” He has to be sure, has to check, before the last strip of his sanity is stripped away and he loses control.

“Please Daddy. Breed me. Claim me. Make me yours… please.”

“Okay baby, okay.” He starts moving, gently, rolling his hips slowly, tantalisingly, doing his best not to go too fast or too quickly. “Daddy’s gonna breed you, okay? You're so tight baby…”

He's not sure what's gonna explode first, his heart or his testicles.

It doesn't take long, every tiny thrust driving both of you closer to the edge,Chris closing his eyes and urgently trying to think of something unsexy. Socks with sandals. Being called “Bang Channie”.

That one weird nude Han accidentally sent him at Christmas. What the hell was he doing with all that BBQ sauce on his titties?

But not even deep philosophical musings on the strange behaviour of Han Jisung can distract Chris from how you've started to bounce on him, your pussy finally adjusted to his cock enough that you can ride him a little, thighs tight around his waist.

He almost loses it, when the little gasps and moans spilling from you get so loud he has to muffle them with his hand. No badly how much he wants everyone to hear how good he fucks you, you're still supposed to be keeping this a secret… Definitely not fucking on stage props quickly relocated to a nearby dressing room. Thank fuck the door locks.

But then you bite his hand, losing control of your sanity and bouncing on his dick like a rabbit, whining, so close to cumming but you just can't quite reach it by yourself.

The sting of your teeth on his fingers pushes Chris over, all restraint gone, hands snapping to your hips as he bucks up into you, holding you still so he can pound your pussy.

He feels you coming undone on him, your pussy spasming, clenching, sucking his dick in deeper until he could swear he's pressing against your cervix.

It's not until you collapse in his arms, shaking, trembling, that he finally gives in and lets himself cum. And he cums hard, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy twitch, milking his cock until he's got nothing left to give.

Balls empty, dick aching, cocksore and thighs shaking, Chris holds you close, his seed dribbling out as his cock starts to soften inside you. You both moan when it finally slips out completely, clinging to each other tightly as you both come down from your respective highs.

“I think… I think we might have ruined the chair, Channie.” You giggle as you look up at him, all blissed out and happy.

“Oops.” He shrugs, before leaning forward and brushing your noses together in an Eskimo kiss. “I guess we'll just have to smuggle it home.”

You rest your head on his chest, happy and sated. Eevelling and how quickly Chris can switch back to Channie, all cosy and cuddly and sweet.

“So…”

“So?” Chan is already starting to look sleepy, all fucked out and giddy. He tilts his head at you like a curious puppy, like he didn't just fuck you into th fifth dimension.

“...are you still gonna try tell me the song is about trains?"

Chan blinks, and you can see the cogs in mind turning as he tries to figure out what trains have to do with anything that just happened.

He flushes bright red when the penny drops, eyes going wide, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of a good comeback. In the end he just hides his face in your neck and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like a whiney “shut up”.

You laugh and snuggle down in his arms. He groans, knowing you're gonna tease him about trains once the post orgasm contentment passes.

That's what he gets for being a liar.

Okay, I'm just about happy with this one. This isn't even the No Thoughts/Hard Thoughts fic, but apparently I have breeding kinks on the brain. Oops. Hope you guys don't mind two in a row. In other news, Channie’s big dick problem is the subject of another fic. Yay size kink? Anyways, thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are so much appreciated and motivating and stuff, let's enjoy this highly educational science gif of Channie to end the post:

tagslist: @sthaay @arestoucries , @chrizzztopherbang, @avnche, @kemkem33, @mikaelless, @lvrgrl-xo, @eevenus , @furioussheepluminary , @sheerfreesia007 , @aasthamoon , @amazinglystay @delulustardust (I got my lists mixed up, I only post skz fics on this account so lemme know if you want me to take you off)

m.list

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long ���� i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[vifilms]

nsfw themes, eighteen+

gymrat!vi who frequents the gym every day except for sundays. giving into his wishes to be present for their weekly dinner. any other day? she’s getting her pump in. an absolute given in her world. pink-hued strands stick to her scalp as she pushes for a new personal record on the bench, especially when vi’s bulking. whenever she’s training, she’s so zoned in, nothing can distract — well — it used to be nothing. 

gymrat!vi who secretly enjoys nothing more than working out with jayce. accountability between two best friends turns into a friendly competition. nothing at stake except their egos. seeing who can outdo the other set after set. something to keep them both in line, fit, and violet enjoys the hit to jayce’s ego whenever she can push weight heavier than jayce.

gymrat!vi who isn’t oblivious to the attention thrown her way. with the heatwave of summertime, her muscles are on full display, defined biceps, toned thighs, and god her tattoos are basically a honey-trap. she would be a fucking liar if she acted disgusted by it, part of her likes it a little too much. but hey, everyone likes to be appreciated from time to time and vi is no exception. and she never really saw a problem with it until a one night stand who then not not so subtly stalked her every time she was in the gym, learning her schedule until she had no choice but to leave her favorite gym. silently, she made a vow to not fuck with girls she met at the gym. 

….well, until you. 

gymrat!vi who is a known regular. she knows all the girls at the front desk, flirts with many of them, but to her it’s as platonic as chatting up the barista who brews her dose of caffeine in the morning. it’s ingrained into her morning routine, simply just a part of who she is. so, when she sees you at the front desk she nearly has to do a double take. there’s not a hot chance in hell she’s seen you before — vi would have definitely remembered you.

gymrat!vi who becomes shy for the first time in her life, bringing her membership card up to the scanner and offering a small smile but when looks back you seem to take a second look, eyes locked into her powder-blue eyes. even if just for a moment, you’re veering into her thumping soul. vi can’t help but smile. she reminds herself, you’re just another pretty girl. you’re new, probably won’t even last long. yeah, that’s what vi’s going to let herself believe. it’s not like she’s thinking about your gorgeous lips when she bench presses, or thinking about your gorgeous  eyes taking her breath away — or when vi’s powerlifting she’s so not thinking about lifting you on top of her. 

“if you talk to her, she might actually know your name.”

“w-what, i-i’m not, sh—”

jayce raises his eyebrows at vi, shaking his head as his very questionable friend spots her as she moves the weight the fluidity, her movements only struggling to push through when she reaches the final set.

“she’s the gym owner’s daughter, he’s wanting her to take over the reins, old age and all.” jayce responds as violet places the bar on the rack, her set complete until she moves onto the next one. “your little theory of her not being around for long is kinda crushed. unless you want to find another gym….”

“that’s the whole point of me not talking to her, m’not finding a new gym again. that’s a promise. i can control myself.” 

jayce just laughs. fucking laughs.

“what’s so funny, bro?” vi pouts.

“that you genuinely believe you’re gonna be able to stop yourself and that you think you have a type….and she fits the bill.” 

“oh, fuck off.” vi grunts.  

dropping the fifty pound dumbbells by the bench, lifting up her shirt to wipe some of the sweat off her face only to find you on the other side of the gym, staring directly at her abs like her glistening sweaty skin like it’s a golden ticket to heaven.

“well…fuck.” 

gymrat!vi who notices your presence more and more in the coming weeks. this time not just behind the front counter. you’re with the personal trainers, helping new customers fill out paperwork, and this morning you go wherever vi goes, her eyes can’t seem to stop searching for your figure. especially with those tight leggings you always seem to wear, vi couldn’t stop looking at the fat of your ass if her life depended on it. she managed to squeak out more than a hi to you yesterday, but it’s as far as her pleasantries extend.

gymrat!vi who has her headphones placed on her head, her all black workout set; this time something more modest at her disposable. the black and cotton hoodie covers her head, flares of bright pink wisps shadow from the hood but her shorts reach mid thigh, the overworked muscles in her legs flexing as she lifts the weight. jayce isn’t with her today, which means she basically had to physically restrain herself from talking to you today. even if she can see you sneaking glances at her through her workout, eyeing her legs each time she’s on the leg press. greedy, hot, goddess — vi is so fucked. 

when she walked the following day, you said her name, violet. 

you know her name. 

it’s just the database, it’s the only reason. 

pull yourself together, idiot. 

gymrat!viwho is at the end of her workout, taking her final rest before she does her last set, but here you go again, gawking as you pretend to be readjusting the weight on the racks but you finally stop looking at her, trying to put the last weight, the one-hundred pound bell but you just can’t. even then, vi is trying not to smile with how adorable you look as you struggle. 

before making her way over to you, she slides the black pair of headphones on her tattooed neck, popping the hoodie, seeing if anyone else was going to help you — just her luck — there wasn’t a soul in her at midnight besides her….shocker. 

“stupid, piece of shit, would you just—” 

“need some help there, princess?” vi looks over at you from the workout beach she’s perched on, legs spread wide as her jaw juts out, eyes naturally gleaming with curiosity. 

“i should be able to. i can do this, right? yeah? i definitely can do this.” 

but it only sounds as if you’re trying to convince yourself. the weight of responsibility crushing your spirit by a singular dumbbell. you’re huffing and puffing. life and death here, and all because of a stupid, petty, weight. 

vi stands up, her height towering over your hunched finger. “pick it up with your legs. next time, make it’ll easier.” 

violet doesn’t really use her legs though. the beautifully strong woman kneels on the ground with you, her gloved hand picks the weight up with ease and places it back on the rack. 

“obviously, i know that.” 

violet hums before she offers a hand, helping you stand tall. “of course you do.” 

the sensation bubbling on her fingertips from touching your skin almost seems downright electric — and now vi feels like running ten miles in the other direction for the sole purpose of settling her heartbeat for just a moment. 

“anyways, yeah, sorry to disturb you.” 

“not a problem, princess. never going to say no to a pretty girl in distress.” 

the smile violet offers is adorable, the one she flashes the girls when she comes in for her late work out, from wherever she comes from. but the way she scratches the nape of her neck? that’s just for you. 

gymrat!vi who can’t stop thinking of you, despite her best efforts. constantly, she wonders if you’re seeing someone, but the way you watch her, vi suspects your single as can be. it isn’t until one friday night, just as she’s trying to leave, one of the front girls, rich and pompous, is trying to coax her into meeting her and some friends at the bar tonight. when she’s about to say no for a finale time, growing more uncomfortable by the second, you’ve come up to where she is and, well fuck, violet’s even more embarrassed that one of your employees is hitting on her right in front of you. 

“c’mon! jayce says you haven’t been out in ages. you deserve it, you’re always working out so much. if anyone deserves a treat, it’s you.” 

cursing out the little shit in her mind, she rolls her eyes, trying to contain herself from having an aneurysm. “little shit, divulging all my secrets.” 

sabrina laughs more than she should, tossing her purple hair over her shoulder. carefully, you hover, absentmindedly scrolling on your phone and violet wonders if you stay there for a reason. 

if she’s the reason you’re eavesdropping. 

“so….is that a yes?” 

violet sighs, she hates this. “maybe another time.” 

gymrat!vi who wonders what you thought of the entire time. quiet as a mouse, you hadn’t said a single word to her since you were there to witness the rejection of her employee they still couldn’t seem to just stop. this is what she wants. silence…..right? it’s what she keeps telling herself but now vi can’t stop trying to catch your attention, just an ounce of it is all she craves. today, you only spared her a glance before you talked to jayce. pathetically, she decides to do something to catch your attention, hip thrusts. 

gymrat!vi who looks up as you watch her pelvis lift the weight placed on her abdomen, pushing sturdy hips through the set as you keep sparing glances gawking at her porcelain skin exposed. she can tell you’re at least trying to pay attention to whatever jayce is saying but you’re interest loses focus when she grunts with one final thrust, the bar rolling away from her legs. 

“did you hear that?” vi rolls her eyes at the sound of his chipper voice. 

“what?” violet slips her headphones off, trying to even her labored breaths. not just jayce, but the both of you stand above vi as she tries to catch her breath. 

“i invited her to our brunch with mel on saturday.” 

“oh, is that this saturday?” 

oh, he really is playing fucking dirty. 

“is there a problem, vi?” 

little chicken shit is grinning, goddamn it. she takes another swing from her water bottle, hoping to god you’ll think it’s too forward, too weird, and you’ll just instantly decline. 

“not a problem.” vi grits her teeth as she speaks, jaw clenching as she knows this is surely to be a hole there will be no digging out from. 

or one she so desperately wants to fill.

rayray rants — UM IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS???? it's kinda different than what i normally post but i might turn it into a little hc series. anyways! hope you like and i have a very special vi post coming soon that i'm really excited about. but yeah! hopefully, i can continue this because vi working out is literally all i can think about. alright, um, see you next time ♡

[yeyinde]

(sighs dreamily) i loooove the way you write fucked up and gross simon. the size kink and somno drabbles have been living rent free in my mind for almost two weeks now. the recent stalker piece was also so deliciously terrifying, i actually had a dream/nightmare today that was a mixture of stalker!ghost and not-dog!soap 😭

are you planning on writing any more for either of those?

ahhh thank you!!!! this had me wondering how i could maybe blend the two and this happened.

stalking. HEAVILY implied noncon somno. size difference.

Simon decides your dog, your baby, needs a man in the house. and since you like to call yourself his 'mama,’ then it’s only right that he becomes the daddy both of you need.

Your dog does not like strangers.

He's a rescue and the sort of life he lived until now, until you, is mostly a mystery. You found him on a rainy day, panting under your awning - a gnarled mess of matted fur glued to bone. Too skinny to survive another winter. You took him in right away and gained his trust. His love. But whatever he had left to spare (lots, it seems) is strictly reserved for you. Everyone else is a threat, a worry. Even the vets he's known since you found him all those years ago still get the same wary glances, the same growls then they lean in too close to whisper something in your ear.

He's just—special. The sweetest thing ever when it's just you. Your baby. People joke—slightly nervous—that he treats you like his mother. Following you closely with his big, glossy eyes tilted up to stare at you. Loving. Cuddly. Rests his big head on your lap at night with a great, big sigh. Tired from a long, hard day of protecting his house from squirrels and the stray delivery driver.

But when it comes to others—anyone, really—he’s aggressive. Territorial. All the vets and trainers say that it's his breed. That he just needs to be trained. Exposure therapy. Behavioural. And it works for all of two weeks before he's back to his stubborn self. Snapping at anyone who gets too close to you.

You post warnings on your fence. Your front door. Take precautions when you walk him. Warn anyone who gets close that he doesn't like anyone. Full stop. No exceptions. And it works. Helps ease the stress. He still goes to therapy. To training lessons. But he's smart enough to trick them into thinking he's learning.

And it's fine. People can't get too close to you. To his house. His territory.

Or so you thought.

But he's been acting strange lately.

You caught him barking at something through the fence a few months ago; spittle flying from his muzzle as his lips peeled back, snarling and vicious. If the fence wasn't reinforced, you think he would have broken it down to get at whatever was behind it.

It continued like this for a few days. Each time you went to check and see what was there, all you find is littered cigarettes. The teenage son of your neighbour, you think. He likes to hide in the dense woods so his parents can't find him. You'll talk to him about it later. Ask if he can do it a little further away from the fence so he isn’t disturbing Baby. 

As the days grow, his growls and snarls diminish before stopping outright. In the interim, your unease grows.

It's small—at first. 

He wants to be outside more. Always whining at the back door, scratching at it with his paw. When you let him out, he runs right to that spot by the fence. Sits down, and just stares. When you go out to look, there's nothing there. Just a dark, sprawling coppice. Cigarettes on the ground. But something catches his attention. Keeps it. Holds it.

He leads you to that spot sometimes, too. Nudges you with his big, furry head to your thighs. Shepherding you to the fence, and then sits back, clearly preening. Proud.

"You're mama’s silly boy, aren't you?" you coo, scratching his ears. It must be the neighbour. Maybe a stray deer wandered by. You catch a flash through the tree line. Twin puddles of black peering through the tangled weeds. Your dog perks up, looking towards it. A deer, you think. A stray buck. You huff, patting his head. "Made a new friend, huh?"

But you can't shake the feeling that something else is out there. That something is staring at you.

Nothing, you tell yourself, fighting off a shiver. It's fine. Fine. He sneaks off at night sometimes. You hear him playing in the hallway. Wandering around the house. The tack-tack-tack of his nails against the hardwood as he walks back to your bedroom lulls you back to sleep. You feel the bed dip. Something warm against your back. You sigh, melting into the sheets—

There's nothing to worry about.

He'll protect you.

But the next morning, you find him locked outside. The patio door shut. The deck is dried from the sun, but his fur is wet. It rained last night. You drifted in and out to the patter of it on your window. The soothing weight of his body curling around you—

He must have gotten out in the morning. Rolled around in the grass. But when you put him in the tub later to scrub the rainwater off of his cost, his belly is dry.

It's nothing. He was in bed with you last night. It's fine. Fine. Everything is easy to explain away as coincidence. Nothing usual. The feeling of being watched. The missing food from your fridge. The creaks of the old house at night. Things shifting around—keys missing only to turn up somewhere else. Rodents chewing through your landline. 

The panties you shed, tossing into a corner before getting into the shower going missing—

They’re just—lost in the wash. You must have thrown the leftover food away when you cleaned earlier and forgot. The lingering scent of cigarettes. Smoke in your bed. The cloying scent of loam, humus. Fresh dirt. The stains on your bed. The strange smear in the gusset of your panties when you peel them apart.

Something thick, firm between your thighs—

Fine. You tell yourself. Everything is fine. At best, it's a gas leak. At worst—well.

Baby will protect you. 

Always. 

But the next day, he brings his favourite toy to the back door, asking to be let out, and this isn't—

It's not normal.

He's possessive over his toys. Keeps them on his daybed and refuses to let anyone touch them. Only you. He doesn't bring the. Outside, either.

But when you peer outside a few minutes later, the toy is lying by that spot near the fence. He's sitting down, tail wagging. Happy. Excited. It continues like this for the next few days. He brings his toys to the fence, coming in later, licking his lips. When you brush his teeth at night, you smell something gamey on his breath. Meaty. 

Getting out of bed a few hours later and playing in the hallway. Going to sleep with you at night, but somehow getting out in the early hours of the morning, waiting for you on the patio when you remember the huff of his breath over your neck less than an hour ago—

No. You're just—

Getting the time wrong. It's fine. He'll protect you. He doesn't like anyone but you.

You hear footsteps in the hallway at night next to the click-clack of his nails. When you jump out of bed to check, it's just him. Sitting by the back door, head craned over his shoulder when he heard you coming. His favourite toy is sitting on the ground in front of him. You fight a shiver. The feeling of eyes burning into you churns your stomach.

"I'm going crazy, sweetheart," you coo, but feel the threads of your sanity begin to snap one by one. "But you'll keep me safe, right?"

His tail wags. You pretend not to notice the gap in the patio door. Opened just a crack. You shut it, forcibly telling yourself to remember to close it next time and fight the memories of locking it before settling on the couch to watch old re-runs. You drag him back to bed, burrowing your head into his fur, listening to the thud-thud-thud of his heart in your ear. 

When you dream that night, it's of a big, scarred hand making its way between your thighs. A rasping, masculine voice in your ear commanding you to be good—

You wake up with your thighs sticky, wet. Your cunt pulsing. There's an ache there; a sting. It twinges when you move, tapering into a sore throb as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, woken up by the strange dream—fingers between your thighs, a head resting on your belly, calling you a good girl—and a noise.

A low murmur comes from the living room. You wince with the first several steps, forcing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. The wetness that drips down your leg, some of it already dried, sticking to your skin. It’s fine. You just had a—

A wet dream.

—everything is fine. Fine. Your heart lurches. Lodges in your throat. Each beat feels like a fist against your tissue trying to break down the prison of your flesh to flee. 

You slowly inch toward the hallway, the sound, making excuses for the fear that curdles in your belly. The itch in the back of your head that calls you stupid. Demands you go back to bed. To sleep. You’ll wake up in the morning to Baby slobbering over your chest, drooling as the time ticks away in a slow crawl towards his usual breakfast. 

It’s tempting. The sleep congealing in the corners of your eyes, weighing heavy—molasses-thick—over your sense of awareness: cobwebbed in that strange, uncanny realm of sleep and wakefulness; hypnagogia turning shadows on the walls into human shapes. The whisper of wind into the brassy drawl of a voice. 

Through it all, the prickle rears. Says something isn't right. Hasn't been right for a while now. It's fine. Everything is—

It doesn't make sense at first. Your brain tries to wrap around the images your eyes feed it. Untangling the dizzying sense of confusion that runs along your hindbrain like a jagged knife; grazing tissue, scraping over nerves. The picture comes together quickly. There's no misinterpreting the shapes.

A man is lounging on your couch. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. The remote is held in one hand as he lazily flicks through the channels on your television screen. The picture of ease. So relaxed, so comfortable in your space, that you begin to feel a little bit like an intruder. A voyeur peering between the curtains.

This feeling is reinforced when you peel your eyes away from the horrifying mask on the man's face—a black balaclava—and find your dog lounging beside him. Resting with his head over this stranger's thick thighs. His head perks up when you approach, tail wagging, but he doesn't get up from his spot. Content to bask in the half-hearted attention the man doles, a hand buried in his fur. Dragging over his ears. Down his back. Monotonous flicks of his thick wrist, nearly the same width as the barrel of a baseball bat.

And that just trembles down your spine in the worst way.

He's the same height as you are sitting down. Takes up two cushions on the couch with his absurd bulk. Massive, you think. And then it all rushes through you. The knife slips into your cognisance.

There's a man in your house. Petting your dog,

your dog who tries to bite the same vet he's had for years. Who trusts, who likes, no one but you—

You make a noise. Something strangled in the back of your throat. Muffed, unable to escape through the clot of your heart getting there first. It tangles around your pericardium and is too late to take back. To swallow down. 

It doesn’t matter, though. 

The man has been watching from the beginning. 

Dark eyes (a dark, black flash between the leaves—) drill into you. Staring. That familiar, unease feeling is back again, creeping up your spine. It's been him the whole time, you know. The thing behind the fence. Must be. The same brand of cigarettes you found on the opposite side is sitting on your coffee table, right beside his feet.

His chest expands with his inhale. You smell stale smoke. Something wild. The scent of the forest after a summer's rain shower.

"Finally up, are you? Thought you were gonna sleep all day." His voice is deep. Brassy. The growling roll of an approaching thundercloud. You shiver. Jerk back, but—

Baby growls.

He's never done that before. Never barked. Never snarled. Never nipped.

But right now, his teeth peel back, muzzle wrinkling as he lifts his lips. And you know it's playful. Seen this look on his face when you throw the ball across the yard. It's just him being his silly self. He won't attack you. Won't maul you. 

The man lifts his hand and your dog limbers up. Shakes. He jumps off the couch and trots toward you. Nothing is threatening in the way he moves. It's the same lumbering gait, the same happy wag to his tail, but he moves himself around you. Stands between you and the only escape.

"Baby—?"

"Taught 'im a few tricks," the man drawls conversationally—like he wasn't a stranger in your house. "Got a good boy on your 'ands. Jus' needed a bit o'trainin'—”

He snaps his fingers and Baby moves. Bumps his head into the back of your thighs. Pushing you. Nudging you toward the man. It’s so horrifying familiar that you find yourself moving without a thought. Following along. 

"He jus' needed a man in the house, didn't he? A father figure—" 

You're going to be sick. Think you would have been already if your heart wasn't lodged tight in your throat, keeping everything down. 

The man lifts his hand. Curls his fingers. 

"C'mon, mommy," he taunts, voice a derisive roll. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. It's movie night tonight."

Baby pushes you forward happily, tail wagging, wagging—

Happier than you’ve ever seen him as this stranger reaches out, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You think about fighting immediately, struggling to get out of his hold, but he moves back and the unmistakable, blunt press of a gun sends shivers rolling down your spine. You still instantly. Back drawing tight. Fear is a wet, hot pulse behind your ribs. 

“Don’t fight it, birdie—” You feel the warm, damp press of his mask against the shell of your ear. The ridges of his lips move beneath the fabric as he speaks. 

You hear him inhale, drawing in the scent of your shampoo—your fear: an oily thick miasma pooling behind your ears, against your nape—and feel tears pool against your lashline when a surge of familiarity wells up at the solid, firm weight of his chest against your spine. His thigh slips between yours, spreading them wide over the arch of his muscle. Limp, dizzy, you fall back into his chest when he pulls you in, slotting a burly arm over your ribcage. Locked in tight. A shackle. 

“Ain’t go’ nothin’ t’worry about,” he continues, hips shifting. Moving. And—

It’s a not gun. You know it isn’t. When you whimper, it throbs—

There’s the echo of a groan in his voice when he huffs, lips pursing into a kiss. “Nothin’ at all. C’mon, Baby—” 

And Baby obeys eagerly, jumping up on the couch beside him. His snout is warm, wet, when he presses it to your arm, sniffing. Please, you think, staring into his eyes as tears swell, pooling down your cheeks. Please—

But the man lifts his arm, and Baby circles the cushion before falling against his side with a deep, content sigh. Hope is snuffed out of your chest in an instant. The man’s hand falls to his head, rubbing his skull affectionately. 

“Good boy.” Baby perks. His happiness is a palpable thing that swells around you as he melts, eyes slipping closed. “Gonna be a good boy while mum an’ dad spend some time together, ain't you, boy?”

His arm tightens around your waist. Chin notches over your shoulder as he shifts back, legs kicking out to spread your thighs further apart.

"Now," he drawls, hand sliding down to the mess between your thighs. You shiver against him, toying with the idea of running, fleeing—but he must know. Senses it, maybe. He lifts his hips, pressing the gun into your spine. A threat. A warning. But with the way he swallows you up—broad chest closing in on you, trapping you on all sides—you know it's futile.

He has you.

Your submission makes him purr.

"Baby's sleepin', so now let daddy take care'o mommy—"

[sweetnothingtm]

part ii of biker!simon, based off of this video! ☆

at first, you think dating biker!simon is a bad idea.

your neighbors hate him, a new complaint filed every time simon rolls up to your apartment in the middle of the night and revs the engine. he said something like he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and how he likes seeing you flustered.

but biker!simon starts showing up everywhere, casually leaning against the bike with his arms crossed in front of him. you always greet him with a smile, planting a kiss on his helmet as he reaches for your waist. he would complain about getting pulled over for the third time, and you joke that seeing you must be getting expensive for him, huh?

but he shrugs, saying something about how he’d die a happy man if he kept getting to spoil a sweet thing like you rotten.

he takes you on long drives, weaving between lanes of traffic and letting you absently talk about anything that’s on your mind. and when he tells you that he couldn’t hear a bloody thing, you roll your eyes and say something like he just wants you to sit there and look pretty for him - but he’s got a smirk plastered across his face when he says yup, that’s what good girls like you are made for.

you have a habit to play with his belt when he rides, feigning innocence when he glances back to you with dark eyes. he asks do you really wanna get there on time? and you’re biting back the smile as he pulls to the nearest exit, tugging off the helmet to give you a wicked grin. he says something along the lines about needing to make a detour, and you’re going to be late, but that’s alright, yeah?

when you ask him teach you how to ride for the first time, you’re shyly planting kisses across his balaclava with a little smile on your face. his eyes are trained on your features, sharp and focused as you whisper gently in his ear with your arms wrapped around his neck.

biker!simon would plant his hands on your waist, grabbing at the skin and groaning to himself. he’d ask do you really wanna learn how to ride? - and you’d look at him with eager eyes, playing with the ends of his hair as you hummed a yes, please.

biker!simon would pull you firmly into his lap, biting and nipping at your neck as he whispered something about how - if you really wanna learn, you should practice on me first.

pretty soon you’re starting to wait for the sound of his engine, giddy with excitement whenever he runs a hand up your thigh and gently squeezes. you tell him that he can always stay the night, isn’t it too dark out to ride? you don’t want him to get pulled over again, right?

so he starts leaving his boots at the foot of your bed. biker!simon calls you when every time he gets another ticket, grumbling over the line about how he didn’t do anything stupid, just a bit of speeding - he didn’t want you to wait, and he’ll be there real soon, so don’t get too comfortable, okay? you joke that it’s just nice to have free rides, but he’s got his head tilted back as he laughs, saying that you’re just being coy - c’mon, admit that you kinda like having him around.

he bought you a helmet that matches his own, placing it snuggly on your head before your first drive. biker!simon would knock his helmet against yours, whispering sweet praises about how you look bloody good, sweetheart. talking about the fact that you’re just so brave, huh? what a good girl you are, guiding you onto the bike as he sits behind you.

and you’re so nervous, taking glances at him from behind your shoulder as he gently instructs you what to do. he’s got a hand on your waist that squeezes when he tries to get your attention. he’s telling you that you don’t need to worry about a thing, since he’s here to keep you safe, yeah?

he’d gently turning the engine over, letting the bike hum to life as you take in a breath and relax against his touch. one tap for slow, he’d say to you, patting your thigh gently, and two taps for speed up. you can do that, right sweetheart?

he whispers into your ear the whole ride, coaxing out that nervous energy until you’re running on pure adrenaline. biker!simon says something like you’re doing so good, huh? you take it like a natural - how come you’re acting so shy?

and afterwards you’re parked on the side of the road, wrapped up in his arms as he tugs you closer and hums in satisfaction. he asks you how it was, pulling up the visor to your helmet so you see two dark eyes lit up with affection. and you shrug your shoulder, saying something about how you’re not really sure what all the fuss is about, talking about the fact that now you can do it all by yourself. at that, he laughs and says see - it wasn’t so bad, huh sweetheart? but let’s save the riding for home, yeah?

dating simon couldn’t be all that bad, right?

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: GRAVITY

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content (lowkey crazy)

word count: 15.6k

A/N: This is lowkey crazy. It wasn’t supposed to be this long but I wanted to follow their prompt fully because they included so many details🥹. This is for whoever asked me to write them in a homoerotic friendship with jealous girlfriends and hella tension. I hope I brought your vision to life 🫶🏼. Also the sexual content is a little crazy just a heads up ✨ it’s what they asked for 😀 Them love reacts better be long because this was rough

—————————————————————————

The first time Paige met Azzi, it was like something in the universe clicked into place. It wasn’t anything dramatic—no lightning bolts or instant sparks between them—but there was a certain ease between them that Paige couldn’t ignore. It was during a Team USA training camp, and while most of the other girls were politely navigating introductions, Paige, in true Paige fashion, latched onto Azzi like they’d known each other forever.

“Alright I guess I’m stuck with you,” Azzi had said after Paige had followed her to nearly every drill, every water break, and even halfway to the locker room. There was a teasing edge to her voice, but the corners of her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. A real smile. Not the polite kind she gave to everyone else, but something softer, something that would eventually become just for Paige.

Paige, of course, had grinned wide, completely unbothered by the jab. “Don’t worry you’ll get used to it,” she’d said with a shrug, already acting like they were inseparable. And, as it turned out, they were.

From that moment on, they’d been each other’s shadow. Azzi liked to pretend Paige’s constant attention annoyed her, always throwing in a sarcastic comment or rolling her eyes when Paige got particularly clingy. But anyone who knew Azzi well enough could see the way her expression softened whenever Paige was near. She didn’t just tolerate Paige; she thrived with her around.

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper, more complicated in ways neither of them could have predicted. It wasn’t just the jokes and playful shoves or the way Paige always knew how to make Azzi laugh, even on her worst days. It was the way they existed in each other’s space so naturally, so effortlessly, that it almost felt like breathing and breathing got a little harder when the other one wasn’t around.

At first, the lines they crossed were small, so subtle they could almost pretend they weren’t there. Azzi’s hand lingering a second too long on Paige’s shoulder during a team huddle. The way Paige’s voice softened when she spoke to Azzi, even when she was in full-on competitive mode or yelling two seconds before. Then there were the private moments—stolen late-night conversations where the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them and whatever unspoken thing pulsed between them.

Neither of them addressed it. Why would they? What they had felt perfect as it was. They leaned into it, basked in it, even as it made their exes irritable or filled with discomfort.

“How can you not see it?” one of Paige’s exes demanded once, her voice rising with frustration in the middle of Paige’s room. “The way you two look at each other—it’s like I don’t even exist when she’s around!” Paige had shrugged off the accusation, the same way she always did. She wasn’t about to dissect her relationship with Azzi for anyone, least of all someone who clearly didn’t get it.

Azzi had similar run-ins with her own girlfriends. One had even gone as far as to call Paige a “third wheel,” which made Azzi laugh harder than it probably should have at the idea of Paige being the one who was the third wheel. “Look if you’re insecure,” she’d said coolly, “then maybe this isn’t going to work.” It hadn’t.

Through all the breakups and messy accusations, Paige and Azzi never changed. They stayed in their little bubble, handsy and playful and just a little too intense, but never quite crossing the line. It was safer that way, they told themselves multiple times. Safer to stay in the gray area, where nothing could go wrong and everything stayed perfect.

Except, now, they were older, so things were starting to feel different. Heavier. The looks lasted way too long. The touches lingered with a heat that left both of them feeling uncomfortable.

Now, as juniors at UConn, Paige and Azzi had built something unshakable—at least, unshakable to them. Paige, a red-shirt junior after tearing her ACL the year before, had made her way back to the court with Azzi as her biggest supporter every step of the way. They had been through it all together: the grueling practices, the late-night study sessions, the euphoric wins, the heartbreaking injuries, they have spent almost every memorable moment of their lives by one anothers side. Yet, for some reason neither could articulate—or maybe they just didn’t want to—they refused to fully cross the line and be together.

Which left them here: two college athletes in their 20s, in the best shape of their lives, with years of unresolved tension simmering between them. It was almost comical when Paige thought about it. How many times had she walked into Azzi’s dorm, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to be able to do what she wanted.

Living just a few doors down from each other didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse. Proximity was its own kind of torture. Paige would find herself drunkenly walking past Azzi’s room after a night out clenching her jaw at the thought of knocking.

Whenever the two of them were in the same room, everyone else might as well not exist. It was a phenomenon their teammates had long since grown used to, though it still sparked the occasional teasing when one of them was being unreasonably jealous. At parties, team meetings, or even casual hangouts, Paige and Azzi had this way of orbiting each other. Sometimes it was as simple as the way Paige would lean in close when Azzi spoke, her eyes fixed on Azzi’s lips the entire time. Other times, it was the way Azzi’s hand would find Paige’s arm, her fingers wrapping around her bicep as if it was her right to do so.

Their teammates noticed. Their friends noticed. And, of course, their girlfriends noticed.

It was a source of constant arguments for both of them. Paige’s girlfriend, frustrated and teetering on the edge of insecurity, had confronted her more than once. “Why do you even need me if you have her?” she’d snapped during one particularly heated fight. Paige had stared at her, dumbfounded, because what was she supposed to say? What did she expect her to say? That she didn’t need Azzi? That she could go a day without thinking about her, texting her, missing her when she wasn’t around?

“You’re overreacting,” Paige said, her voice clipped. “Azzi’s my best friend. I’m not about to change how I am with her because you don’t like it.”

Azzi’s girlfriend expressed similar frustrations, accusing her of being “too close” to Paige, of crossing lines that no one else seemed to get away with. Azzi had brushed it off just as easily as Paige had, if not easier. “If you can’t handle me having a best friend, then maybe I’m not the type of girl you’re looking for,” she’d said coolly, shutting the conversation down before it could spiral.

And so the cycle continued. Arguments, tension, half-hearted apologies, and a refusal to change. Because the truth was, Paige and Azzi didn’t see anything wrong with the way they were. To them, it was just how they worked. How they had always worked. They weren’t going to apologize for it.

But deep down, they both knew it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t simple at all really. They were completely in love with one another.

For now, though, they kept pretending. Pretending that their girlfriends’ constant jealousy didn’t irritate them. Pretending that their late-night conversations and far too intimate inanimate behavior was completely innocent. Pretending that they weren’t both standing on the edge of a bridge waiting for something inevitable to plunge them into freezing water.

Because once they jumped, there would be no going back, no pretending it didn’t exist anymore. And maybe—just maybe—that’s exactly what they were afraid of.

The dorm common room was lively with chatter and the soft clinking of LEGO pieces filling the air as KK, Ice, and Jana sat at the table, deeply engrossed in their latest construction project. Paige, however, was sprawled on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on her phone. Her girlfriend, Kehlani, sat beside her, the two of them technically together but clearly existing in separate worlds at the moment. Kehlani had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get Paige’s attention for the last 15 minutes, only to give up and return to her own phone in silent frustration when Paige was incessant that she was doing something important.

The atmosphere shifted the moment Azzi walked in. Dressed in her usual athletic wear and exuding her effortless confidence, she greeted the group at the table saying casually, “What are y’all building now?” KK mumbled something about a Star Wars set, but Azzi was already moving past them, her attention zeroing in on the couch—and on Paige.

“Hey,” Azzi said with a grin, walking straight up to them as if Kehlani wasn’t even there. Without hesitation, she plopped down on the couch, her movements familiar. In one smooth motion, she grabbed Paige’s knee, parting them just enough to slide her own legs in between, draping them comfortably across Paige’s lap.

Kehlani looked up from her phone, her eyebrows furrowing as she watched the scene unfold. But she didn’t say anything. This was tame compared to some of the things she’s witnessed.

Paige, on the other hand, chuckled softly, locking her phone and setting it aside. “Hello to you too,” she said, her tone teasing.

Azzi grinned, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “I missed you,” she said casually, her eyes locking with Paige’s. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Paige’s focus was now fully on Azzi, something Kehlani had been desperately trying to achieve. “You’re the one who’s been busy,” Paige shot back with a playful smirk, her hand sliding over Azzi’s leg as she adjusted it, pulling it more securely into her lap. The movement was instinctive, practiced—like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Kehlani’s grip on her phone tightened. She glanced between them, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Do you need me to move over?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

Paige blinked, as if remembering for the first time that Kehlani was even there. “Huh? Nah, you’re fine,” she said quickly, brushing off the question. Her hand, however, didn’t move from Azzi’s leg.

Azzi leaned her head back against the couch, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re being dramatic, Paige,” she teased, ignoring Kehlani entirely and going back to their original conversation. “I wasn’t even that busy today.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Paige quipped, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on Azzi’s shin.

From the table, Ice shot KK a knowing look, raising an eyebrow as if to say here we go again. KK stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the LEGO set. They’d seen this dynamic play out too many times to be surprised anymore.

Kehlani, however, was visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and staring at the two of them like she was waiting for something—anything—to break the tension. But nothing ever did. Everyone knew this was just how they were. What no one could quite figure out, though, was why either of their “girlfriends” put up with it.

It wasn’t like Paige or Azzi had ever pretended their relationships were sacred. In fact, both had made it crystal clear on more than one occasion that they wouldn’t hesitate to walk away and that this was just something casual for when they were in season. “If you don’t like how we are, we can end it,” Paige had once said, almost nonchalantly, during a heated argument. Azzi wasn’t any different, offering Kali a similar, “You really don’t have to stay.”

But for whatever reason—whether it was the allure of dating two of UConn’s biggest stars or simply the hope that things might change—Kehlani and Kali stayed around. They endured. They tolerated. Even when moments like this made it painfully clear they were never going to be anything more than someone to turn to here and there when the tension became too uncomfortable to sit with.

Paige licked her lips absently, lifting her hips slightly to adjust Azzi’s legs again, which were still draped over her lap like they belonged there. Her hand gave an idle squeeze to Azzi’s calf before she glanced up. “You busy tonight?” she asked casually, her attention fixed entirely on Azzi.

Azzi tilted her head, her brown eyes drifting down to Paige’s hand on her leg. “Why?” she asked, her voice laced with flirtation.

Paige smirked. “Whatchu mean ‘why?’” she shot back, leaning into the word with a playful edge.

“Why are you asking me if I’m busy tonight?” Azzi pressed, a smile on her face, clearly enjoying the banter.

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning back against the couch. “I’m tryna come over,” she said simply. “Maybe watch a movie or something.”

Azzi chuckled softly, like she knew exactly where this was going. “You fall asleep every time,” she pointed out, her gaze flicking back up to Paige’s.

“Probably because you always pick boring-ass movies,” Paige said, a huge smile on her face.

Azzi’s laughter followed quickly. “You picked the last movie,” she countered, her voice full of mock indignation.

Their back-and-forth was so effortless, so locked into their own little world, that it took Kehlani a moment to realize they’d completely forgotten she was even sitting there. But she hadn’t forgotten. Not for a second.

“What if I want to hang out with Paige tonight?” Kehlani interjected suddenly, her voice cutting through the conversation.

Azzi froze, but only for a moment, her expression unreadable as she leaned back and waited for Paige’s response. She didn’t need to say anything—she already knew Paige would.

Paige turned her head, finally acknowledging Kehlani for the first time since Azzi had walked in. “Come on,” she said, her tone light, almost dismissive. “You been with me all day.”

Paige turned her head, finally acknowledging Kehlani for the first time fully since Azzi had walked in. “Come on,” she said, her tone light, almost dismissive. “You’ve been with me all day. We can just hang out tomorrow.”

Kehlani’s mouth opened slightly, her brow furrowing as she processed the casualness of it all—the way Paige said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

Kehlani’s voice was sharper now, her frustration rising. “What if I don’t want to hang out tomorrow?”

Paige shrugged, unfazed. “Then we’ll hang out the next day.” Her tone was calm, almost too calm, as if she couldn’t understand why Kehlani was making this a bigger deal than it needed to be.

For some reason, that made it worse. Kehlani’s frustration boiled over, her voice rising just enough to catch the attention of KK and Ice at the table. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about hanging out, Paige!”

Paige exhaled, visibly trying to keep her cool as she leaned back against the couch, her hand still casually draped over Azzi’s leg. “Look, I’m not about to argue with you in front of everybody right now,” she said evenly.

Kehlani crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. “What? You embarrassed?”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as if the question was almost laughable. Her hands remained where they were—comfortable, unbothered, still casually resting on Azzi, who hadn’t even looked up from her phone since the interruption. “No,” Paige said. “I’m just not about to argue with you right now.”

But Kehlani wasn’t backing down, she never did, her voice rising again as she tried to provoke Paige like always. “Right, because Azzi’s here. You don’t want to look bad in front of her, huh?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to her briefly before she shook her head again, her voice calm. “Come on, don’t make me do this to you in front of everybody.”

Her words, said so casually yet so definitively, made Kehlani’s face flush with a mix of anger and humiliation. KK, Ice and Jana exchanged awkward glances, clearly trying to stay out of it but they were struggling to hold in their giggles.

Azzi, still scrolling on her phone, finally shifted slightly, glancing between the two of them before giving Paige a subtle nudge with her foot, like she was silently telling her to chill. Paige glanced at her, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she turned back to Kehlani.

“You good?” Paige asked simply, her voice a little softer. It wasn’t a question that invited a real argument—it was a question that implied this conversation was over.

Kehlani’s lips pressed into a line as she sat back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room was thick, her frustration hanging heavy in the air.

Azzi shifted slightly in Paige’s lap, breaking the silence with a small sigh as she finally spoke. “Y’all good? Or can we go back to pretending this isn’t super awkward?”

KK, Ice, and Jana’s laughter finally filled the room as Paige and Azzi went back to their conversation.

“Alright so, what’s the move?” Paige asked, her voice low as she shifted slightly, her arm still resting over Azzi’s leg. “Your room or mine?”

Azzi smiled, tilting her head as her eyes dropped to Paige’s hand absentmindedly tracing patterns against her skin. “Mine. Obviously.”

“Obviously? Az bro, please. My bed is bigger. Way more comfortable.”

Azzi’s lips quirked. “Your bed’s overrated and I can never wake up on time in there with those black out curtains.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “One my bed isn’t overrated and you know it. Two, I can't handle your non-existent curtains. It wakes me up too early.”

“I know you can’t handle it,” Azzi teased, her smirk growing. “You whine about it every single time. It’s cute, though—makes me think you just like finding reasons to stay.”

The room seemed to grow smaller at that, the air between them growing a little tense. Paige’s laugh came a little too late, her fingers tightening slightly around Azzi’s leg. “Don’t flatter yourself. I stay for the snacks.”

Azzi tilted her head, her gaze flickering to Paige’s lips before settling back on her eyes. “You sure about that?” she asked, her voice dipping lower.

Paige held her gaze, her smirk faltering for a split second as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Pretty sure. You don’t have anything else I want.”

Azzi leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve always been such a bad liar Paige.”

Across the room, Jana stilled mid-motion, her hand hovering over a Lego piece as her eyes darted to the two of them. KK and Ice exchanged a look, KK mouthing a silent “Yikes” before turning back to their project.

“You’re ridiculous,” Paige said, shaking her head with a soft laugh, but the way her fingers brushed over Azzi’s leg a little higher betrayed her.

“Ridiculous enough to keep you coming back,” Azzi shot back.

Paige opened her mouth to respond, but her breath hitched when Azzi added, “But I get it—you gotta keep up appearances. We’ll see later.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her laugh coming out strained. “Yeah we’ll see later.”

That was the moment Kehlani finally broke, the tension in her chest snapping. She stood abruptly, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

Paige barely looked up, still holding Azzi’s gaze. “You good?”

Kehlani let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’m great. Just remembered I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

Azzi finally turned her head, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Kehlani. “You sure?”

Kehlani ignored the comment, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Have fun tonight Paige. Looks like you already are.”

Paige’s smirk faded as she watched Kehlani walk out, the door slamming harder than it needed to. For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint sound of KK, Ice and Jana pretending to be preoccupied with their Legos.

Azzi broke the silence, her voice light. “Think she’s mad at me?”

Paige chuckles, leaning back against the couch. “She’s mad at me,” she muttered, though her hand stayed firmly on Azzi’s leg.

“Can’t blame her,” Azzi said softly, her eyes locking with Paige’s again. “I’d be mad too if I had to watch this.”

Paige’s breath caught, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s skin before she forced herself to look away, her jaw clenching so tightly it ached.

Jana raised her eyebrows, fully catching the moment and glancing toward KK and Ice like, Are we really going to pretend we didn’t hear that? But Ice just shook her head, mouthing, Let it go.

Paige finally exhaled, her voice low as she tried to steer the conversation back. “So…whose room is it gonna be?”

Azzi’s grin returned. “Yours,” she said. “But only because you’re such a baby about my blinds and I’m being nice.”

Paige huffed out a laugh, holding out her hand to Azzi. “Let’s go before you say something else that gets me in trouble.”

Azzi took her hand, standing up and leaning just close enough to murmur, “Maybe I can do something this time instead.”

…

The glow of the TV screen cast a faint light across Paige's room, illuminating the two of them as they lay side by side on her bed. The random movie playing in the background barely registered to either of them, its plotline easily forgotten beneath the quiet hum of tension that seemed to follow them everywhere.

Paige had ditched her hoodie the moment they got comfortable, leaving her in a fitted black tank top that clung to her toned frame and a pair of loose gray sweats that hung on her hips. Azzi, meanwhile, had claimed one of Paige’s XL hoodies she stole from the storage closet—navy blue with "UConn" printed across the chest—and it practically swallowed her, the hoodie just long enough to hide her pajama shorts underneath.

For a while, they sat in relative silence, their occasional comments about the movie mixed in with quiet chuckles.

Paige adjusted her position, shifting slightly to lean back against her headboard. Her hands slid behind her head, fingers lacing together as she let out a content sigh. The movement caused the hem of her tank top to ride up, revealing a strip of skin just above the waistband of her sweats.

Azzi’s gaze flicked downward, the motion unintentional at first—but once her eyes landed on the exposed skin, they lingered. The way Paige’s muscles shifted with each breath was almost hypnotic.

Without fully thinking about it, Azzi reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the bare skin.

Paige’s head tilted down, her brow lifting as her eyes met Azzi’s. “What are you doing?” she asked softly, her tone somewhere between amused and curious.

Azzi didn’t stop, her fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns along the line of Paige’s stomach. Her touch was featherlight, sending a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she replied.

Paige shifted slightly, her stomach tensing under Azzi’s touch. “Looks like you’re trying to distract me.”

“Distract you from what?” Azzi asked, a smile forming on her face. Her eyes flicked up to Paige’s, the challenge clear in them.

Paige exhaled, a small, breathy laugh escaping her lips. “From this terrible movie you picked.”

Azzi snorted softly, her fingers still moving in slow circles. “You picked the movie,” she corrected.

“Well, you didn’t stop me,” Paige countered, her voice soft but strained as she shifted again, her arms dropping to her sides. Her hand moved instinctively, fingers lightly wrapping around Azzi’s wrist to still her movements.

Azzi’s smile deepened, her thumb now brushing deliberately against Paige’s skin. “You gonna stop me?” she asked, her voice dipping lower, the question feeling heavier than it should have.

Paige stared at her, the air between them growing impossibly thick. “Should I?” she asked back, her voice quiet, almost a whisper.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room being the faint dialogue from the forgotten movie. Azzi’s fingers stilled against Paige’s stomach, but she didn’t pull away, her gaze locked on Paige’s like she was daring her to make the next move.

Paige’s jaw tightened slightly. “You’re gonna start something we can’t finish,” she murmured.

Azzi didn’t respond right away, but the glint in her eyes said more than words ever could. Instead, she moved, her weight shifting as she climbed on top of Paige, settling herself comfortably in her lap. She straddled Paige’s waist effortlessly, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her.

Paige didn't even react. So used to having Azzi on her like this but this time her eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity when Azzi grabbed the loose string of Paige’s sweatpants.

Azzi’s fingers toyed with the string lazily, looping it around her finger as if she had all the time in the world. Her expression was calm but her eyes burned with unspoken intent. “Who says we can’t finish it?” she finally said, her voice low, almost a purr.

Paige let out a breathless laugh, her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You’re bold tonight,” she said, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed any attempt at sounding unaffected.

Azzi just smirked, her head tilting slightly. “I’ve always been bold,” she said, her hands still playing with the string.

Before she could push it further, Paige’s hands came up, wrapping around Azzi’s wrists firmly but gently to get her to stop. Her fingers slipped between Azzi’s, interlacing them as she guided their hands away from her waist. Paige looked up at her, the smile on her face soft but her grip strong.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Paige murmured, her voice strained. She didn’t look away, her thumbs absentmindedly brushing against Azzi’s knuckles.

Azzi leaned in closer, their faces now only inches apart. “Trouble?” she repeated, her breath warm against Paige’s skin. “I think you like trouble.”

Paige’s smile widened slightly, her eyes dropping to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before flicking back up. “Maybe,” she admitted, her voice low. “But not when it comes to you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “Especially when it comes to me.” she challenged back, her fingers tightening around Paige’s in response.

Paige didn’t answer immediately, her gaze searching Azzi’s face like she was trying to decide how far to let this go. Eventually, she exhaled sharply, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” she said softly.

Azzi smiled, leaning back slightly but not moving from her spot. “Good thing I’ll make it worth it,” she replied.

Paige’s brow lifted at that, her lips curling into a grin. “Oh yeah? How you gonna make it worth it?”

Azzi leaned forward again, closing the gap between them just enough for her voice to drop. “That depends,” she said, her gaze locked on Paige’s. “What do you like?”

Paige blinked slowly, her smirk fading as her expression grew more serious. Her eyes searched Azzi’s, studying her, trying to gauge just how far Azzi was willing to take this tonight. The air between them was too thick, and for a moment, Paige almost didn’t answer. But then she sat up slightly, her confidence returning as she spoke.

“I like being in control,” she said simply.

Azzi’s head tilted at this, her lips curving into an intrigued smile. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice soft, almost coaxing.

Paige just nodded, her jaw tightening at Azzi’s tone as she kept her eyes on the curly haired girl, daring her to react.

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, her smile growing as she shifted her weight, pressing down just slightly to remind Paige of the position she was in. “What kind of control?” Azzi asked, her tone full of curiosity.

Paige let her head fall back slightly, her tongue running across her bottom lip before she looked up at Azzi through her lashes. “All of it,” she replied.

Azzi exhaled a short laugh, her eyes flickering with interest. “All of it,” she repeated, as if testing the words on her tongue. She leaned in closer, her lips just barely brushing the shell of Paige’s ear as she spoke. “What if I told you I like being submissive P?”

Paige’s brows raised slightly in surprise, her hands instinctively tightening their grip on Azzi’s. “Do you now?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity but tinged with amusement.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look Paige in the eyes, her gaze steady. “I do,” she admitted, her voice softer now but still filled with confidence. “But no one’s ever been able to make me submit before.”

Paige’s fingers twitched where they were still holding Azzi’s hands, the slight movement enough to catch Azzi’s attention. Azzi glanced down at their joined hands, a small smile playing on her lips as she lifted them and guided Paige’s hands under her hoodie, placing them firmly on her waist.

The warmth of Azzi’s skin under her palms sent a jolt through Paige, her jaw tightening almost involuntarily. She shifted her hips beneath Azzi, trying to find some semblance of restraint, but the pressure between them only heightened the tension in the room. Their eyes locked, the silence between them speaking volumes as neither of them looked away.

Paige, unable to hold back any longer, tugged Azzi closer by the front of her hoodie, the sudden movement leaving no space between them. Azzi’s lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering with something playful as she whispered, “You want me.”

It wasn’t a question—it was a fact, delivered in that same confident tone Azzi always carried.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound low and rough, her grip tightening on Azzi’s waist. “No, I don’t,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Azzi raised a brow at her, the corners of her lips curling into a smirk. “Right,” she said. “And the sky isn’t blue.”

Paige’s smirk widened as she tilted her head, leaning in slightly, their faces barely inches apart. “You want me,” she countered, her eyes boring into Azzi’s.

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t,” she denied, though her voice betrayed her, softer and less certain than it should’ve been if there was any truth to the words.

Paige’s gaze dropped to Azzi’s lips for a fleeting second before returning to her eyes. “Liar,” she murmured, her hands sliding ever so slightly higher under Azzi’s hoodie, her fingers pressing gently against her ribs.

Azzi swallowed, her breath getting stuck for a moment before she forced herself to smirk again. “Prove it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, the challenge clear in her tone.

Paige considered Azzi’s words for a moment, her eyes flicking between Azzi’s lips and the playful glint in her eyes. “We’ll get in trouble if I do,” Paige said.

Azzi tilted her head, her smile never falling as she leaned down. She stretched out over Paige’s chest, her weight settling comfortably as if she belonged there. Her lips hovered near Paige’s neck now, close enough that Paige could feel the faint brush of her breath.

Azzi didn’t say anything. She just lingered there, her nose grazing the edge of Paige’s jaw as she breathed her in, taking her time like she had all the patience in the world. The warmth of her closeness, the soft scent of her, was enough to send Paige’s pulse racing, her heart pounding so loudly she knew Azzi could feel it.

Neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable—an unspoken understanding settling in the air that they went far enough today. Paige’s hands, still resting under Azzi’s hoodie, started to move, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns along the curve of Azzi’s ribs. The light pressure of her touch seemed to ground them both, though Paige’s own heart was far from calm.

Azzi sighed softly, her breath warm against Paige’s neck as she nestled closer, her face burying deeper into the curve of Paige’s neck. Her weight was warm and familiar, her presence something that felt so natural.

The movie played on in the background, long forgotten. The screen’s flickering light painted their quiet moment in soft, shifting shadows, but neither of them noticed. Azzi’s breathing began to slow, her body relaxing fully against Paige’s.

Paige, too, felt herself drifting, the tension she always carried melting away as Azzi pressed into her. Her fingers still moved lightly against Azzi’s ribs, though her motions became lazier, slower, until they stopped altogether.

And just like that, they fell asleep.

…

The sharp flick of the light switch broke the quiet of the morning, alternating between brightness and darkness like a strobe. Paige groaned in protest, her face scrunching up against the sudden intrusion. With a low grumble, she shifted, her arms wrapping tighter around Azzi, who was still lying across her.

Without fully opening her eyes, Paige let out a frustrated huff and shifted their positions, rolling them over so that she was sprawled on top of Azzi. She buried her face in Azzi’s neck now, trying to shield herself from the offensive light.

“Seriously, Isuneh?” Paige muttered, her voice muffled and rough with sleep.

Azzi stirred beneath her, blinking awake slowly at the movement and the flickering light. She shifted, her hands lightly resting on Paige’s back. “What’s going on?” Azzi mumbled, her voice groggy.

Ice leaned casually against the doorframe, a smirk on her face as she flipped the light switch again. “Paige, Kehlani’s here,” she said. “Figured I’d spare you the argument today and come wake you up before I let her in.”

Paige groaned louder at this, her forehead pressing deeper into Azzi’s shoulder. “Turn it off. I don’t care,” she grumbled, her words barely audible.

Azzi’s lips quirked into a sleepy smile, her hand brushing lightly against Paige’s side. “Paige…” she said softly, trying to coax her.

When Ice flicked the light switch one more time for good measure, Paige let out another groan of annoyance, her fingers digging lightly into Azzi’s waist. “You’re dead to me,” she muttered toward Ice, though her face remained firmly hidden.

Azzi chuckled, now fully awake, her hand lazily tracing patterns along Paige’s back. She lifted her head slightly to glance at Ice. “I got it,” she said, her voice still soft and groggy. “Just give me five minutes.”

Ice raised a brow at the scene, the sight of Paige practically plastered to Azzi’s chest. But she said nothing, instead letting out a small laugh as she locked the door before shutting it behind her.

Azzi sighed, leaning her head back against the pillow. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen. It was still early—way too early for any of this.

“Paige,” Azzi murmured, glancing down at the girl now sprawled across her. Paige didn’t respond, her body still dead weight against Azzi’s as if she had every intention of going back to sleep.

“We’ve got time,” Azzi said gently, her hand sliding up and down Paige’s spine. “Practice isn’t for another hour and a half.”

Paige shifted slightly, her arm tightening around Azzi’s waist as she mumbled something incoherent.

Azzi smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Go back to sleep grumpy,” she murmured, her voice calm.

Paige grumbled again, adjusting herself one last time, her breath evening out as she settled back into Azzi.

Azzi let her head fall back against the pillow, her fingers continuing to trace lazy patterns along Paige’s back. The warmth of their closeness and the quiet rhythm of Paige’s breathing lulled them both into an easy calm. Just as Azzi predicted, after about five minutes, Paige’s breathing evened out, signaling she’d fallen asleep again.

Azzi sighed softly, glancing down at the girl draped across her. Moving from under Paige without waking her was easier said than done. Every time Azzi shifted even slightly, Paige’s fingers instinctively grabbed at her, like she was tethered to her.

“Of course,” Azzi muttered under her breath, stifling a small laugh.

Finally, with painstaking slowness, Azzi managed to slide from under Paige and get up without disturbing her. She lingered for a moment, her gaze softening as she adjusted the blanket over Paige before grabbing her phone off the desk. Moving quietly, she slipped out of the room and shut the door gently behind her.

The sight in the living room made her stifle a laugh. Ice was leaning over the kitchen counter, her chin propped on her hand, clearly half-asleep. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was only still awake to keep Kehlani from trying to go in the room.

Azzi chuckled, padding over to the counter. “Ice, go back to bed,” she said softly, her tone more amused than anything.

Ice blinked up at her, barely awake. “Oh my god I love you,” she mumbled before trudging off to her room, shutting the door behind her with a lazy swing.

Azzi turned toward the couch, where Kehlani was sitting, her arms crossed as she glanced up at Azzi. Her eyes flickered over Azzi’s frame—the oversized hoodie clearly belonging to Paige, paired with her pajama shorts just barely visible underneath.

Azzi walked toward the door, her steps casual. “You should let her sleep,” she said simply. “We’ve got practice later, and we’re traveling for a game tomorrow. She needs the extra rest.”

Her comment was purely practical, as always—Azzi thinking about Paige’s well-being like she always did. But Kehlani’s expression shifted, the neutrality of her gaze hardening slightly.

“I think I know what my girlfriend needs,” Kehlani said, her tone sharp.

Azzi stopped mid-step, turning slowly to face her. She didn’t say anything at first, just blinked at Kehlani blankly, her expression unreadable.

Kehlani’s posture stiffened, and the silence between them stretched for a moment too long.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her calm demeanor never faltering. “If you say so,” she finally said, her voice almost dismissive. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned back toward the door.

The tension in the air was unmistakable, but Azzi had no intention of indulging Kehlani’s obvious irritation. Instead, she opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway, leaving Kehlani sitting there, stewing in her own thoughts.

Azzi sighed as she opened the door to her room, only to freeze when she saw Kali sitting on the edge of her bed, arms crossed and her expression carefully neutral. It wasn’t unusual for Kali to speak her mind, but this was unexpected. Kali wasn’t like Kehlani—clingy and almost possessive. She had her own life and usually didn’t hover. So to find her waiting here now surprised Azzi.

“Hey,” Azzi greeted casually, recovering quickly as she walked toward the bed. She was determined to get at least 30 more minutes of sleep before practice.

Kali didn’t respond right away, just followed Azzi with her eyes as she flopped face-first onto the bed, mumbling into the sheets, “What’s up?”

“Where were you?” Kali asked, her voice calm.

“Fell asleep in Paige’s room watching a movie,” Azzi mumbled, barely lifting her head.

Kali’s tone didn’t change, but her next words were deliberate. “Kehlani texted me at a god forsaken hour. Said I should come ask you about it. Any idea why?”

Azzi let out a short laugh, turning her head just enough to glance at Kali. “I have no idea why that girl does anything she does.”

Kali tilted her head slightly, her expression sharp but not angry. “She thinks there’s something going on between you and Paige. And you know I agree with her.”

Azzi groaned, burying her face back into the pillow. So much for sleep. She pushed herself up on one elbow, her eyes meeting Kali’s. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you—me and Paige aren’t fucking.”

Technically, Azzi wasn’t lying. She and Paige had never had sex. Sure, there was that one truth-or-dare kiss her freshman year, followed by a couple of hazy, alcohol-fueled kisses later that night. But that was years ago, and nothing had happened since then. So when she said it, she meant it.

Kali, however, didn’t seem convinced. “Then why can’t you two back off each other a little? Ease our minds.”

Azzi sighed, sitting up fully now, as she regarded Kali with a steady gaze. “I’m not going to stop being close with Paige,” she said, her tone softening slightly. “Because that’s part of who I am. If that’s a problem, I get it. But I’m not changing that.”

Kali’s expression hardened slightly, her arms crossing over her chest. “How are you ever going to have anything serious with someone if you refuse to change the way you two are together?”

Azzi shrugged. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

What Azzi didn’t say, though, was the truth buried deep in her chest—the truth she never admitted to anyone. She already knew where she’d end up. She knew Paige was the one she’d eventually take seriously. They both knew it, even if they didn’t say it out loud. That was the plan: give themselves time. Time to be young, to experience other people, to live a little before stepping into something that would consume them both.

But Azzi was certain. It would always be Paige.

Kali sighed. “When you said casual girlfriends, you meant it, huh?”

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, her lips quirking up slightly as she hummed in response, offering no further explanation.

Kali got the hint. She stood, smoothing her shirt and offering Azzi a small smile. “Alright. Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” Azzi murmured, already sliding back down under the covers. “I’ll text you later.”

Kali nodded and let herself out, the door clicking shut softly behind her.

Azzi exhaled deeply, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before letting her eyes drift shut.

…

Things like that continued for a while—Paige and Azzi, stuck in each other’s orbit, getting closer with every passing day. Each interaction carried a little more weight, a little more intensity, and each time, it was harder for one of them to back away. Their words were more suggestive now, even in front of others. The team had noticed too, making bets on when the two would finally stop dancing around each other. They’d dubbed it “the finish line,” one night and no one believed it was far off.

Right now, though, Paige, Ice, KK, and Kehlani were crammed in Paige’s car, parked in the lot outside of Crumbl. The car smelled like cookies and laughter filled the small space as they did a “review” of the new flavors on Ice’s TikTok Live.

Ice sat up front next to Paige, her sore knee propped up as she balanced a cookie box on her lap. Kehlani and KK shared the backseat, KK practically bouncing with excitement as she waved around a piece of the new S’mores flavor.

“Ya’ll, this one is insane,” KK yelled, breaking off a piece and leaning forward to shove it toward Paige’s face. “P boogers you gotta try this!”

Paige chuckled, keeping one hand on the wheel even though the car wasn’t moving. “KK, I’m driving. Can you not?”

Ice glanced at her and snorted. “First of all, you’re parked. Plus, the comments are saying you need to give your official take.”

Paige groaned, finally turning toward KK and taking the piece of cookie with an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine. Gimme.”

KK grinned victoriously and leaned forward, scrolling through the TikTok comments. “They’re saying the S’mores one is the best so far, but someone just called the Churro flavor a ‘sleeper hit.’ Thoughts?”

Paige chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “Okay, yeah, S’mores is cool, but I’m team Churro on this one.”

As Paige finished her sentence, KK’s eyes widened as she leaned toward Ice’s phone. “Azzi’s in the chat!”

Ice immediately perked up, glancing at her phone screen and smirking. “Azzi! Boo! Why didn’t you come with us?” she said, dragging out the words in mock disappointment.

“Lame,” KK added, her voice loud and dramatic. “BOOOOO!”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, you’re boring, Az. Can’t even show up for cookies?”

Kehlani stayed quiet in the backseat, but her eyes flicked toward Paige, noting the way her tone softened just slightly when she said Azzi’s name.

A moment later, a new comment popped up on the live. Azzi’s verification checkmark made her words stand out, and Ice read them out loud: “I’m not boring, Paige.”

Paige laughed, her eyes lighting up as she leaned closer to Ice’s phone. “Sure you’re not. What’re you doing right now, then?”

KK nudged Ice whispering. “She really out here having a one-on-one convo like the rest of us don’t exist.”

Ice snorted, but Paige ignored them, waiting for Azzi’s next reply. It didn’t take long.

“Just laying down,” Azzi wrote in the chat.

Paige grinned, shaking her head. “See? BORING. What’d I say?”

Another comment quickly popped up: “I’m recovering from practice, Paige. Some of us are human and don’t have unlimited energy.”

“Excuses,” Paige shot back, laughing. “I think you just wanted to miss out on all the good cookies. KK, pass me the Snickerdoodle.”

KK handed Paige the cookie but pointed dramatically at the screen. “Azzi, if you’re seeing this, they’re roasting you in the comments, too. One of them just said, ‘Azzi’s too cool to eat cookies with them.”

Paige tilted her head, reading another comment that Azzi wrote. “I’m not too cool for cookies. But Paige never saves me any, so why bother?”

The live erupted in “oohs” from the chat, and Paige’s jaw dropped. “First of all, I always save you something.”

Azzi’s response popped up almost immediately. “Lies. Where’s my cookie, then?”

Paige rolled her eyes, smirking. “I’ll bring you a cookie later. You’re lucky I’m nice.”

“Only to me,” Azzi wrote.

Ice and KK exchanged a knowing look, both laughing under their breath. Ice leaned forward, resting her elbow on the center console. “Yo, she’s bold for that one.”

KK smirked. “I think they forget this isn’t a private conversation.”

Meanwhile, Kehlani had fully reclined in her seat, scrolling through her phone and making no attempt to engage.

Paige read the comment aloud, her smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “That’s ‘cause you are my favorite person, Az.” Her voice carried that teasing, flirty tone she didn’t bother hiding anymore.

The live chat immediately blew up:

“PAIGE WHAT?!”

“She really said it!”

“This is the content we needed!”

Azzi’s response came almost instantly. “Your favorite person? Then why am I at home while you’re out eating cookies without me?”

Paige laughed, breaking off a piece of the S’mores cookie. “This is for you, Azzi. See?” She held it up to Ice’s phone, angling the camera toward it. “Consider yourself taken care of now.”

KK leaned in dramatically, her mouth hovering near the cookie. “I’m about to eat this for her since she didn’t show up.”

Azzi’s reply was short and direct: “KK, touch it and see what happens.”

Ice practically wheezed, clutching her chest. “Not her threatening people in the live chat.”

Paige tilted her head at the camera, grinning as she scrolled to Azzi’s next message before responding out loud. “Then what do you call this?”

Azzi popped back into the chat: “It’s called keeping people in line for you. You’re welcome.”

Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “See, that’s why you’re my favorite.” Her voice dipped slightly, playful but with an undertone that made KK and Ice share another quick glance.

Azzi replied almost immediately: “Say it louder for the people in the back.” The double not lost on Paige.

Paige leaned a little closer to the camera, her grin widening. “Azzi’s my favorite,” she said, dragging out the words in a teasing tone. “Happy now?”

KK threw her hands up. “Alright, we get it! Paige is Azzi’s biggest fan. Moving on…”

But Paige wasn’t done, and neither was Azzi. The next message from Azzi caught Paige off guard: “You should tell me how much you like me later. Maybe in detail.”

Paige’s eyes flicked down at the screen, her lips twitching as she fought back a smile. “Oh, you want details now?” she said, leaning into the moment. “Like what? Should I write it all down for you?”

Ice and KK immediately burst into laughter, KK pointing at the screen. “Bro, Azzi’s got you blushing on live. This going to be everywhere.”

Paige ignored them, her attention locked on the next comment Azzi sent: “I don’t need it written down. You can just show me.”

Her breath hitched for a moment, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from fully smiling. “Az, we’re on live. Not FaceTime. Chill.”

The chat went into full chaos mode:

“SHOW HER WHAT???”

“Azzi please, we can’t take this!”

“Paige is GONE.”

KK was practically in tears now.

Paige groaned dramatically, finally tearing her eyes away from the screen. “Azzi, I swear. You’re banned from the next live. You’re worse than Ice.”

Azzi’s last comment appeared on the screen: “You love it.”

Paige chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, next cookie,” she announced, trying to change the subject. But her cheeks were still tinged pink, and the chat wasn’t letting it go anytime soon.

Paige chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, next cookie,” she announced, trying to change the subject. But her cheeks were still tinged pink, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Azzi popped back up in the chat: “You’re cute when you blush, P.”

Paige immediately groaned, her face heating up even more. “Azzi, pleaseee,” she said, unable to hide her smile as she glanced at the screen again.

The chat exploded with chaos:

“AZZI STOP, YOU’RE KILLING US.”

“Ole girl in the back is mad.”

“Just kiss already.”

Azzi wasn’t about to let up as another comment popped up. “Only if you come over later,” she wrote.

Paige shook her head, biting her lip to keep from smiling too much. “Azzi, you’re actually the worst,” she replied, but her tone betrayed how much she was enjoying it.

KK chimed in, pointing at the screen. “I don’t know if you're seeing it but they saying you’re on a leash, P boogers.”

Azzi replied: “You don’t seem to mind when I’m ‘the worst.’”

Paige blinked at the screen not even addressing KK, her laugh low. “Azzi…” she warned, but there was no real threat behind it.

Azzi replied back: “What? Just telling the truth. You like me this way.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, covering her face with one hand, fully laughing now. “You’re unbelievable,” she said through her laughter.

Ice, who had been watching this unfold with growing amusement, nudged Paige’s arm. “You gotta fight back, you’re looking weak on live.”

Paige glanced at Ice, shaking her head, but her smile stayed. She turned back to the camera. “I’m not even entertaining her anymore,” she said, though her blushing cheeks said otherwise.

Azzi’s next message popped up: “Yeah, you will. Later.”

Paige pressed her lips together, struggling not to laugh again, but her blush deepened. Before she could respond, Kehlani, sitting quietly in the back, spoke up, her tone dry and serious. “Oh, why stop now? You might as well just FaceTime her at this point. We’re all here for the show anyway.”

The air in the car shifted. Ice and KK exchanged glances, but the laughter that had been flowing just moments ago came to a halt. Kehlani’s words hung in the air, her eyes fixed on her phone as she spoke.

Paige’s smile faltered slightly, sensing the tension in Kehlani’s voice. She quickly shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Kehlani, relax,” Paige said softly, but the underlying unease in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

Azzi’s final comment popped up in the chat: “Just don’t forget my cookie please.”

The chat exploded again, but the playful vibe was gone now. Paige let out a soft laugh at Azzi’s humor, her blush still lingering, but the mood had shifted. “Alright, new flavor, let’s go,” she announced loudly, trying to shift the focus as the car fell into a quieter tension.

…

When the live ended, Kehlani didn’t hold back. She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Paige through the rearview mirror. “So you’re just openly flirting with her now?”

Paige’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles white as she kept her eyes on the road. KK and Ice sat frozen in their seats struggling not to laugh knowing how this was going to end. Paige didn’t want to have this conversation—not here, not now, and definitely not with an audience.

Taking a steadying breath, Paige glanced at the mirror, careful not to meet Kehlani’s gaze. “We can talk about this when we get back,” she said calmly.

Kehlani scoffed, throwing herself back against the seat and crossing her arms tightly over her chest like a child. “Oh, it'll be a lot more yelling than fucking talking,” she muttered, her voice sharp.

Paige’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as she clenched her teeth. She didn’t take her eyes off the road but finally responded, her voice laced with warning. “What did I tell you about doing this in front of people?”

Kehlani let out a bitter laugh, her head tilting slightly as she gestured vaguely toward the car. “Oh, but you can flirt with Azzi in front of three thousand people, huh? That’s perfectly fine?”

Paige’s gaze snapped up to meet Kehlani’s through the rearview mirror, her expression hard. “Stop,” she said simply.

For a moment, Kehlani opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but the sharp look Paige gave her was enough to make her think twice. She pressed her lips together, the silence in the car growing even more as they continued the drive.

When they returned to campus, Paige immediately headed to her room, hoping to avoid any more conflict. Kehlani followed, slamming the door behind her as she stormed in. The tension between them was thick, the unspoken frustration that had been building for days now ready to spill over.

Kehlani didn't waste any time. “If you want to fuck her, just get it over with so you can get it out of your system,” she snapped, her voice filled with bitterness. Paige’s expression immediately hardened. She had been holding her tongue but had so much pent up frustration she didn’t care anymore.

Paige turned to face her, her eyes narrowing. “Watch your fucking mouth Kehlani,” she said, her voice low and full of warning.

Kehlani sneered, crossing her arms. “Oh, so you have a reaction now? I just have to say something about Azzi to get you to finally react, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not doing this with you.”

Kehlani scoffed, pacing in frustration. “You’re seriously just gonna keep playing it off? Like nothing’s happening between you two? How long do you think you can keep this up before it blows up in your face?”

Paige stayed leaned against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. Her voice was calm when she replied, “Look, I’ve been upfront with you from the beginning. If you want to walk away, do it. I’m not forcing you to stay. I told you from the start this was casual.”

Kehlani whipped around to face her, her tone sharp. “It’s not even casual anymore, Paige. At least back then we’d fuck or something after we argued!”

Paige let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Is that what this is about? We don’t fuck anymore?”

Kehlani's jaw tightened, her voice rising with indignation. “Do you even know when the last time we were together was?”

Paige shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by the question. “Nope. But I’m sure you're going to enlighten me.”

Kehlani stepped closer, her eyes flashing with irritation. “It was after the team went out drinking,” she snapped. “You and Azzi were all over each other all night because you were drunk. And you didn’t even care who saw.”

Paige raised her brows slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

Kehlani stepped closer, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. “We argued about it when we got back, and you wanted to shut me up, so you fucked me. That’s the last time, Paige. Do you even care?”

Paige groaned, rubbing her temples. “Lani, I don’t even know what you want me to say right now.”

Kehlani's voice sharpened. “Are you getting it from her now? Is that why?”

Paige let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’m not fucking Azzi! Jesus Christ!”

Kehlani let out a bitter laugh. “Stop being a coward and admit you want to at least. Just say it.”

Paige froze for a moment, her patience finally snapping. She straightened up, her eyes locking with Kehlani’s. “Alright. Fine. I wanna fuck Azzi. Is that what you wanna hear?”

Kehlani blinked, momentarily stunned but unwilling to back down. “Say it again, Paige. Say it like you fucking mean it.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re fucking crashing right now bro.”

But Kehlani stood firm like she always does, crossing her arms. “No, Paige. Say it. Don’t half-ass it. I want to hear you say it.”

Paige’s frustration boiled over, and her voice rose as she snapped. “Yes, I want to fuck Azzi! I want to fuck her every time I look at her!”

Kehlani raised an eyebrow, unmoved. “Keep going.”

“What?” Paige snapped, incredulous.

“You’ve been a coward this whole time. You finally grew a spine—don’t stop now. Keep going. What else?” Kehlani’s voice dripped with venom.

Paige leaned forward, her voice escalating, almost shouting now as she spoke her mind but wanted to shut Kehlani up in the process. “I think about doing the nastiest shit you can imagine to her, okay? Is that what you’re deranged ass wanted to hear? Is that good enough for you now?”

Kehlani smirked, clapping her hands together slowly, the sound cutting through the tension. “Fucking finally. There it is. At least now we’re finally being honest.”

Paige glared at her. “Fuck you, Kehlani,” she spat.

Kehlani snorted, shaking her head as she turned toward the door. “Nah, Paige. You’re saving that for Azzi, right?”

Ironically, as the words left her mouth, the door swung open, and Azzi walked in, her eyebrows furrowing at the scene in front of her.

Kehlani chuckled darkly, shaking her head as if the situation was some cruel joke she was in on.

Azzi’s gaze bounced between the two of them, her tone cautious as she took in Paige’s demeanor. “Uh... should I go P?”

Paige’s entire demeanor shifted the second she saw Azzi, the hard edges of her anger softening, though her tension was still noticeable. “No, Az,” she said quietly, her voice noticeably softer. “It’s fine. We’re done.”

Kehlani scoffed, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Oh no we’re not done, but you should stay,” she said, gesturing to the room. “Come enjoy the show. Paige was just telling me all about how much she thinks about fucking you. Weren’t you, Paige?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Her expression tightened as she looked at Kehlani, but there was no shock in her eyes.

Paige didn’t say anything, her jaw tightening.

Kehlani wasn’t done, stepping closer, her arms crossed as her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What? Too shy to say it now? You weren’t shy five minutes ago. Go ahead, Paige. Tell her.”

Paige’s eyes darkened as her patience snapped. “Kehlani, shut the fuck up.”

Kehlani laughed coldly, tilting her head. “What, you can’t tell her? Can’t tell her how you were just talking about all the nasty shit you want to do to her? Go on, Paige. Please don’t stop now.”

Paige took a step forward, her voice low. “We’re done, Kehlani. Get the hell out.”

Kehlani stared at her for a moment, a cruel smirk tugging at her lips before she turned to Azzi. “Just a warning,” she said, her voice light but toxic. “She gets a little rough when she’s upset.”

With that, she walked out, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving an almost deafening silence in her wake.

Azzi stayed rooted in place, her eyes locked on Paige, who was visibly trying to hold herself together, her shoulders tense and her jaw clenched. Azzi’s brow furrowed in concern as she cautiously stepped closer. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Paige’s hand as if to ground her. “Paige,” she said gently, “Talk to me. What’s going on in your head right now?”

Paige took a deep breath, the sound shaky as she stared at the floor for a moment. Then she met Azzi’s gaze, her eyes were dark with a look Azzi hadn’t seen before. “Az, you need to leave,” Paige said, her voice low and rough. “If you don’t, I’m going to do something we’ll regret.”

It wasn’t a plea; it was a warning.

The air between them grew heavier, the tension almost suffocating. Paige’s frustration and anger were palpable—every argument with Kehlani, every unresolved feeling about Azzi, every ounce of sexual tension she’d been bottling up for weeks—it all felt like it was seconds away from exploding. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe.

But Azzi didn’t step back. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. “Do it then,” she said softly, her voice carrying a challenge she hadn’t fully thought through.

The second the words left her mouth, Azzi realized she should’ve thought about it a little more.

But Paige’s reaction was immediate, almost primal. Her hand shot up, wrapping firmly around Azzi’s neck as she pushed her back against the wall with a force that sent a picture frame rattling. Azzi gasped softly, her wide eyes searching Paige’s for a split second before Paige leaned in, her lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was rough, hungry, and completely consuming.

Azzi’s initial surprise melted into something deeper, her body responding instinctively as her hands grabbed at Paige’s waist, pulling her closer. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s neck tightened as she deepened the kiss, her desire building as she couldn’t get enough of Azzi. Each brush of their lips, each shift in their embrace sent a pulse of heat through Paige’s body. She was losing herself in the moment, in the touch, in the taste of Azzi.

The kiss wasn’t gentle or careful—it was unapologetically passionate. It was everything they had been holding back for years, all the longing, all the frustration, all the stolen moments finally manifesting. Azzi could feel Paige’s hunger, the intensity in every movement. She could feel Paige’s breath against her skin, could feel the heat in her hand as it gripped her neck, holding her in place with a possessive energy that sent shivers down Azzi’s spine.

Azzi’s hands squeezed Paige’s hips, urging her closer, pulling her against the heat of her body. She loved the way Paige’s fingers tightened around her neck, the way Paige’s body moved against hers with a sense of urgency, as though they were both starving. The aggression, the way Paige was pushing her into the wall—it felt exhilarating, freeing. Azzi had always known Paige had it in her, but now that it was happening, she could hardly believe it.

The world outside the room, outside this moment, ceased to exist. It was just them. Paige’s hand, warm and possessive around her neck, the way she kissed Azzi like she was afraid she might disappear if she didn’t hold on tight enough—Azzi was completely intoxicated by it. She wanted more, needed more, and with every passing second she was reminded that this was everything they’d been denying for so long.

Paige’s breath hitched as she pulled Azzi’s hair roughly, exposing more of her neck. Azzi gasped at the feeling, a mix of surprise and excitement flashing in her eyes. Paige’s grip tightened on Azzi’s hair, pushing her head back more as she traced her lips down the sensitive skin of Azzi’s neck.

Paige's lips were messy, marking every inch of her neck. She could feel the heat radiating off Azzi’s body as she kissed her harder, deeper, moving against her with an intensity neither of them had expected for their first time. When she pulled back for a moment, her voice was rough, the question slipping out without a second thought.

“You aren’t cheating, right?” Paige asked.

Azzi nodded quickly, her hands grabbing at Paige’s, urging her back to her neck. “No," she whispered, "I’m not.”

Azzi’s words were barely heard before Paige tugged harder on her hair, guiding her back, her lips attacking Azzi’s neck again. Paige’s hands gripped Azzi’s body tighter, not letting go, as if marking every inch of her skin as her own.

Azzi melted into it, her body arching toward Paige’s, having craved the roughness for so long, the need that was building between them.

Before Azzi could even process what was happening, Paige’s hands were at the back of her thighs, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. The strength in Paige’s grip made Azzi's heart race, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride that Paige’s athleticism was coming into play at the moment. She wrapped her legs around Paige’s waist instinctively, pulling her closer, the kiss deepening as Paige’s hands roamed over her butt with desperation.

Azzi could feel everything building, the need between them undeniable. Paige didn’t pause, didn't even hesitate, as she walked them over to the desk. Azzi’s breath hitched when she felt the edge of the desk press against the backs of her thighs, and Paige, without breaking the kiss, placed her gently yet firmly on top of it knocking a few things over as she did so.

Azzi gasped, her hands grabbing at Paige’s shoulders to steady herself. She didn’t know what was more exciting—the feeling of Paige’s body pressed against hers, the heat radiating between them, or the way she was being handled.

Paige pulled back slightly, her gaze dark, filled with an intensity Azzi had never witnessed before. Azzi was breathless, her body humming, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looked up at Paige, waiting for whatever came next.

Paige’s eyes never left Azzi’s as she spoke. “Take off your shirt.”

There was something in the way Paige said it—something possessive and undeniably intense—that made Azzi swallow hard. She felt the weight of the command settle into her chest, her heart hammering in her ears as her breath caught.

Without hesitation, Azzi pulled her shirt over her head, feeling a shiver run through her as she caught Paige’s gaze, the hunger in her usual soft blue eyes making her pulse quicken. Azzi knew it was different now. This wasn’t the teasing, the slow build-up. This was something primal and she was willingly volunteering herself for it.

She let the fabric fall to the floor, her hands shaking slightly but not from fear—more from the anticipation. Every muscle in her body was tuned to Paige, waiting for her next move, her next command. In that moment, she didn’t want anything more than to be exactly what Paige wanted.

Paige's hands moved quickly, pulling Azzi's hips forward just enough so she could stand between her legs, their bodies barely apart but still aching for more.

Without warning, Paige grabbed Azzi by the neck, her grip firm, pulling her into another kiss that was desperate and unrestrained. The urgency in the kiss was undeniable, a silent plea for release as Paige's body pressed into Azzi's. Paige was fighting to control herself, to not be aggressive as she could be, but the tension inside her was too much-every muscle, every nerve, was on fire with the need to close the gap between them.

Her lips moved hungrily against Azzi's, breathing in the taste of her like it was the only thing that could calm the desperate ache inside. Paige's hands gripped Azzi's sides, her fingers digging in as if she might never let go, as if this moment was the only thing that mattered. Their breaths mingled, heavy and fast, as Paige pressed closer, her chest brushing against Azzi's, the heat between them only amplifying the intensity of the kiss.

Azzi's hands slid to the back of Paige's neck, pulling her deeper, her body arching toward Paige's.

Paige yanked Azzi's head back again, her grip tight as she started to assault Azzi’s neck again. The raw tension between them was undeniable. But then, Azzi let out a soft moan at the feeling, a sound that was so sudden, so unfiltered, that it stopped Paige in her tracks.

It wasn't just a sound. It was a plea, a release that vibrated through the space between them, and when it escaped Azzi's lips, it shattered Paige's control. The way it rang in the air, the desperate vulnerability in it. Paige's jaw tightened, her whole body going rigid.

She pulled back quickly, struggling to catch her breath. Paige clenched her jaw desperately trying to hold on to whatever semblance of self control she had left. But she was failing. Without a word, she turned away, her steps almost urgent as she walked toward the closet.

"Take everything off," Paige's voice was rough.

Paige reached into the closet, her fingers brushing over a few bags, before pulling out a sealed box that she began taking to plastic off of.

Azzi didn't hesitate. She undressed quickly, following Paige's command without a second thought. Every movement was fluid, driven by a mix of anticipation and the sharp heat that still pulsed between them.

As soon as she was bare, she walked over to the desk, sitting back on it, the cool surface pressing against her skin, contrasting with the heat radiating off of her.

She watched Paige intently, her eyes tracing every movement as Paige got completely undressed before stepping into a harness and adjusting it.

Paige's every action was deliberate, her fingers brushing against the fabric, pulling at it slowly to make sure everything was in place as her eyes raked over Azzi’s body as she did it.

Something about the sight has more pooling between Azzi’s legs. Paige is scarily calm right now which terrifies and excites Azzi at the same time.

As Paige walked toward Azzi slowly, her gaze never left brown eyes. When she reached her, she leaned in just enough to let her voice drop low. "You wanna feel me, Az?" Her words were a tease, full of promise, and the way they hung in the air made Azzi's heart skip.

Azzi nodded, almost too quickly, her throat suddenly dry. She didn't trust herself to speak—her body ached with a need for Paige and Paige only.

Paige's lips curved into a smile as she reached up, brushing her thumb across Azzi's lip. The touch was soft and gentle, yet somehow possessive, and without thinking, Azzi parted her lips and took it into her mouth.

She sucked it in slowly, her eyes never leaving Paige's as she swirled her tongue, feeling the heat of Paige's gaze searing her skin.

Paige watched her intently, savoring the sight, before sliding her thumb out of Azzi's mouth. She dragged it slowly down her jaw, the pads of her fingers tracing lightly across her skin before finally resting at Azzis center where she began to trace small agonizingly slow circles against Azzi.

Azzi's breath hitched, her jaw tightening as the circles only further deepened the ache in her stomach. Each movement, each second that passed, stretched the tension unbearably, the pressure building in her chest. The way Paige took her time, making every second feel like an eternity, had Azzi biting down on her lip to keep from reacting too loudly.

Paige's thumb circled lazily along Azzi's center, her touch soft. She was watching closely for every little reaction: the sharp, ragged inhale, the subtle tremor in Azzi's body, the way her lips would part as she tried to hold in the sounds threatening to slip out. Each moment, each subtle movement, felt like an eternity as she pieced together what Azzi loved like it was the easiest puzzle in the world.

Azzi's breath caught as Paige pushed against her a little harder, her eyes fluttering closed involuntarily. Paige's eyes darkened as she saw the way Azzi tried to bite down harder, a silent battle the girl was having to remain quiet for some reason. Paige couldn't help but chuckle a little at this.

"You know it's not going to matter in a few minutes, right?" Paige's voice was calm as she said it, but there was a bit of an edge to it, a silent promise to Azzi that she wouldn’t be able to stay quiet even if she tried. Still, she continued her slow, torturous circles, watching for the breaking point.

Azzi opened her glossed over eyes, meeting Paige's gaze. Her voice was barely a whisper, but there was a challenge to it. "You like to hear it?"

Paige nodded, her breath shallow. "Of course." The simple words hung in the air, full of desire.

It was as if Azzi had been holding her breath, saving it for this exact moment. Not two seconds later, the sound escaped her lips-a soft, almost angelic moan. The sound was almost too beautiful for how quiet it was.

It was enough for Paige to not want to wait anymore wanting to hear so much more spill from Azzi’s lips.

So she swipes the top of the strap against Azzi a few times to make sure she’s ready for it before she’s pressing forward, sliding in halfway before pausing to make sure she’s ok and giving her some time to adjust.

“Oh fuck-“ Azzi immediately gasps at the feeling pulling Paige’s closer to her by her shoulders.

Leaning over her a little now Paige begins slowly rolling her hips careful not to go in all the way yet.

Paige mumbles against Azzi’s neck where she’s planting kisses and sucking on the already marked skin. “Does that feel good pretty?” As Paige says this her fingers tangle in Azzi’s hair tugging at it to expose more of her neck as she continues working in and out of her.

“Mhmm yes—feels…feels so fucking good. Oh fuck.” Azzi’s face twists slightly as Paige pushes all the way in hitting somewhere deep in her stomach.

Paige reaches down with her free hand to rub circles against Azzi again as she picks up the pace of her hips.

With every movement, Azzi whimpers. The breathy noises music to Paige’s ears, urging her on. Paige pushes Azzi’s legs further apart, eventually making her wrap her legs around her waist as the new position allows her to work deeper into Azzi.

Azzi who’s never felt anything like this whimpers out “Fuck yes…gimme more Paige…harder please baby” her moans getting louder as she grasps at the shelf behind her trying to find anything to anchor herself.

Paige immediately obliges to the request grabbing Azzi’s waist pulling her into her more as she works in and out of her at a faster pace.

Azzi smiles at this for a second before her jaw drops as she fights to keep her eyes locked on Paige.

Paige feels like she can come undone just by the look on Azzi’s face. The way her brown eyes are locked on Paige’s blue ones, struggling to keep her breath makes Paige fall in love with her all over again.

Paige moves herself closer to Azzi so she can whisper in her ear. “Mhm you so fucking pretty taking it like this baby...you like it when I fuck you like this Azzi?”

"Yes- fuck... Yes I love it so much—" Azzi’s arms wrap around Paige’s shoulders, her nails digging into her pale skin as the blonde moves into her at an unreasonable pace making her see stars.

Paige groans at the feeling of Azzi’s nails digging into her as she rests her forehead on her shoulder.

Azzi continues gasping, her breathing sharp as she tightens her hold on Paige anchoring herself to something real. Her chest rising and falling in quick succession, pulse hammering in her ears, drowning out everything but the feeling of Paige inside her.

"Shit…I've wanted this for so long," Azzi whispered, her voice trembling.

Paige pulled back from Azzi’s shoulder to rest their foreheads together. Their breaths mingled, hot and unsteady, as they locked eyes, both panting at Paige’s movements.

Paige's lips curled into a slow smile, her voice low and a little breathy, laced with a possessiveness that makes Azzi weak. "Tell me what you mean, baby."

Azzi's heart fluttered at the sound of Paige’s voice. Her entire body seemed to hum with the weight of the question. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering the fragments of herself, feeling her body continue to pulse at Paige who hasn’t slowed down for a second. Her hands move to Paige's face, fingers trembling as they cup her jaw, bringing her closer, as if she couldn't get enough of the warmth, of the weight of Paige's presence.

"I've wanted you to fuck me just like this," Azzi panted, the words spilling out in a rush. “Touched myself thinking about how you would feel.” Her grip tightened, nails gently grazing Paige's skin who has slowed her movements easing all of it in and out at a steady pace.

Paige's smile deepened as she looked at Azzi, her voice dripping with something almost dangerous, like she knew exactly what Azzi needed. "It's all mine, baby?" Her lips barely moved as she whispered them.

Azzi's breath hitched, her whole body answering the question before her words could as she felt something pool on the desk under her.

She nodded, forehead pressing against Paige's, her eyes rolling back as she gave in to the overwhelming flood of emotions.

"Use your words for me, baby," Paige murmured, a soft pressure against Azzi's jaw, urging her, coaxing the confession out.

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming in her throat, before she finally gave in to the truth of it all, letting it tumble out in a breathless confession. "It's yours, Paige. Fuck yes, it's all yours baby."

Azzi's hands are steady on Paige's face, her fingers tracing the soft line of her jaw. The heat radiating between them is undeniable now, but it's not just physical-it's everything they've been holding back. Azzi’s legs are still wrapped around Paige’s waist, their bodies pressed together, the only space between them the shared breaths that are only becoming more ragged.

The world outside them has faded completely. All that's left is the sound of their hearts racing, the intensity of their eyes locked in a silent battle. But Azzi can feel it. She can feel Paige's jaw tighten under her fingers, feel Paige's slight hesitation to speak.

"Say it, baby," Azzi breathes out, voice rough, pleading. The words hang between them, as she dares Paige to cross the line they've been dancing around for so long. The unspoken truth that neither has allowed themselves to fully acknowledge-until now.

Paige's jaw tightens more, her mind fighting against the pull of the confession. She knows, deep down, that once she says the words, there's no taking them back. No turning away from what it means. Her eyes search Azzi's, a mix of fear, longing, and something else-something so much deeper. Azzi's brown eyes are full of hope, desperation, and a promise.

Azzi leans in closer, her breath catching in her throat. "Please... Paige..." she whimpers, as though the words might shatter if she says them too loud. "Say it. Please. I need to hear it baby.”

For a heartbeat, Paige hesitates. But having Azzi like this completely bare for her taking everything she’s giving her makes something stir in Paige. The fear, the uncertainty, melts away. She licks her lips slowly, never breaking Azzi's gaze, and the words come out like a release, a truth finally allowed to breathe.

"I love you, Azzi," Paige whispers, keeping her voice low. "I fucking love you." Paige says again as she rolls her hips into Azzi perfectly. The words feel almost foreign on her tongue, but they taste right. They feel like everything she's been holding back for so long, all the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the touch that said more than words ever could.

Azzi's breath hitches, her eyes going wide not just from the feeling of Paige hitting deep inside of her but from hearing those words fall from her lips for the first time the combination of them both leaving her breathless.

She can barely hold back the rush of emotion that crashes over her. "I love you so fucking much, Paige," she murmurs, her voice breaking on the edge of the confession. It's everything she's wanted to say to Paige since they were teenagers.

Azzi's fingers trace Paige's face gently, her heart pounding as if it might burst from her chest. "I love you," she whispers again, this time, the words are like a devotion to Paige.

Paige presses her forehead to Azzi's, her lips just inches away, her breath mingling with Azzi's. She could lose herself in this moment forever. "I love you so much Azzi," she breathes, her voice full of everything she's kept locked away.

Paige can feel herself building at Azzi’s words, the weight of the moment, the way the harness was rubbing against her. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this turned on before, she’s never felt this pull in her stomach from just fucking somebody else.

Before Paige embarrassingly comes undone before Azzi she’s pulling out completely causing Azzi to immediately whine at the feeling as she looks up at Paige with desperation.

Paige didn’t give Azzi a chance to say anything before she was lifting her off the desk.

Without missing a beat, Paige walks over and gently lays Azzi down on her back on the bed hovering over her as she locks eyes with her.

Paige whispers out. “Wanna feel all of you when you finish for me.”

Azzi hums at this, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at Paige. Her fingers threading through Paige’s messy hair.

Without saying anything Paige presses back inside of Azzi completely making her arch off of the bed letting out an almost pornographic sound. Paige leans down pressing sloppy kisses to Azzi’s chest leaving new marks further down as she starts rolling her hips into her again.

Azzi’s mouth falls open at the feeling, her body picking up right where it left off a few seconds ago. Paige’s eyes hold Azzi’s as she wraps her hand around her throat again squeezing just tight enough causing a whimper to fall from Azzi as she flutters her eyes closed at the way Paige is controlling the situation.

Not liking that she can’t see Azzi’s eyes anymore Paige whispers out “Look at me Azzi baby.”

Azzi's eyes immediately flutter open, the command in Paige's voice making her head spin. Her gaze locks onto Paige's, but her vision is hazy, her eyes watering at the spot Paige is hitting over and over.

Paige smiles, it’s a knowing grin, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to Azzi and she shakes her head as if to tell Azzi it's not time to break yet.

"No, not yet sweetheart," Paige murmurs, her fingers tightened against Azzi's throat like a warning.

Azzi's throat tightens as she tries to speak to break the tension, but her voice falters.

She shifts beneath Paige, her head trying to turn to the side, desperate for some escape from the intensity of the moment. But before she can move too far Paige tightens her hold to keep her in place.

"Don’t look away from me when i’m talking to you Azzi” Paige's voice is calm, but there's an edge to it now, making Azzi's breath hitch in her throat as she nods.

At this Paige takes her hand off of Azzi throat and moves it down to her stomach where she presses down slightly feeling every thrust.

Azzi immediately moans at the pressure as she locks her ankles around Paige’s back not allowing any room between them.

"Mm- fuck, Paige. I’m so close. Don’t stop…please, don't stop just like that." Words are just tumbling out of Azzi now as she wraps her arms around Paige’s shoulder holding her against her completely as Paige picks up her pace to something almost ruthless.

Azzi’s hand immediately tangles in her hair trying to pull Paige closer as she sucks on her pressure point.

Paige brings her hand up, carefully interlocking it with one of Azzi's that isn’t tangled in her hair, her breath warm against Azzi's neck as she mumbles, "I'm so close, baby." Azzi nods in response not able to form a words, her legs tightening around Paige's waist, pulling her even closer.

All that leaves Azzi’s lips are whimpers and moans as Paige moves into her. Paige keeps her pace until Azzi’s body starts to tremble under her and she feels the movements get a little harder as Azzi tightens.

“Ohmygodohmygod…fuck..fuck” Azzi screams her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair as she releases all over the sheets. Paige squeezes their interlaced hands as she keeps moving, still chasing her own release, mumbling out, “Hold on baby I’m right there.”

Despite her sensitivity Azzi presses her heels into Paige’s back pulling her closer and not long after Paige is groaning out a “oh shit..fuck Az..fuckfuck” before she’s slumping on top of Azzi.

The room is filled with the sound of their breathing, both of them lying there, skin still warm and sticky, bodies tangled together in the aftermath. For a moment, neither of them moved, as if both of them were trying to process the intensity of what had just happened. It was different, undeniably so. Different than any other time with anyone else. This wasn’t just physical.

After some time of laying there, Paige shifted slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s shoulder. “Imma pull out now, okay?” she murmured, her voice soft and low.

Azzi’s hands shot up to grab Paige’s shoulders, halting her immediately. Paige froze, lifting her head to meet Azzi’s gaze. There was something almost pleading in her eyes, a vulnerability Paige hadn’t seen before.

“Not yet,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Paige smiles as she gazes down at her. “Can you keep going?” she asked, her tone laced with both amusement and awe.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching as her hands slid down Paige’s back. “Yeah,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “I just... I don’t want this to end yet.”

Paige chuckled softly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. “You’re something else, Az,” she said against her mouth, her voice warm.

Azzi smirked faintly, her hands curling into Paige’s skin. “Yeah, and you love it,” she shot back, though her voice trembled slightly when Paige adjusted her hips.

Paige didn’t deny it. Instead, she shifted, one of her hands trailing slowly down Azzi’s side. “Alright,” Paige murmured, her lips grazing Azzi’s jaw before trailing down to her neck again. “Guess I better make it worth your while.”

Azzi’s laugh turned into a quiet gasp as Paige started to move again, her hands gripping Azzi's hips as she eased her back into it. But then Azzi couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her, the sound muffled behind her hand. Paige paused slightly, raising a brow.

“What’s funny?” Paige asked, her voice low, breath still hot against Azzi’s neck.

Azzi shook her head, though the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “It’s just—” she laughed softly again, tilting her head back slightly to meet Paige’s curious eyes. “Your cross necklace. It’s just... dangling there. Right in my face.”

Paige looked down and noticed the small silver cross swaying between them. She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. “Yeah, that’s probably not the vibe right now,” she muttered.

Azzi smirked, clearly enjoying the irony. “It’s definitely a choice,” she teased, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingers tightened against her skin.

“Alright,” Paige said, grinning as she moved her hand to Azzi’s chin, tilting her head slightly. “How about I fix that for you?”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige pulled out and flipped her over with an effortless motion, Azzi’s stomach now against the bed. Paige hovered over her, her cross now out of Azzi’s sight. Paige leaned down, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear. “Better?”

Azzi swallowed hard, her smirk faltering as Paige’s hand slid back to her waist. “Yeah,” she breathed, her voice suddenly softer. “Much better.”

Paige chuckled, her lips trailing slowly down Azzi’s jaw. “Good,” she murmured. “Now stop laughing and focus, Az.”

Azzi smiled faintly, but her next laugh dissolved into a sharp inhale as Paige reminded her exactly what kind of focus she meant.

…

Later that night, Paige and Azzi lay side by side, their shoulders brushing, hands intertwined as the quiet of the room settled around them. The adrenaline had long worn off, leaving them in a haze of warmth and exhaustion.

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing over the back of Paige’s hand. “I need a shower,” she murmured, breaking the silence.

Paige’s eyes were half-closed, her voice barely above a mumble as she replied, “Same.”

Azzi turned her head slightly, glancing at Paige with a teasing smile. “You’re actually disgusting,” she joked.

Paige cracked one eye open, the corner of her mouth twitching into a lazy grin. “You loved it,” she fired back, her voice low and raspy but filled with clear amusement.

Azzi laughed again. “Unfortunately,” she said, shaking her head dramatically, “you might be right.”

Paige gave a low chuckle, squeezing Azzi’s hand gently. “Might be? C’mon, Az. Own it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I loved it. Happy?”

“Very,” Paige murmured, her voice already trailing off into something quieter as her head tilted toward Azzi’s.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable, the warmth of their connection lingering in the air. Paige stared up at the ceiling, her breathing finally even as her thumb absently traced circles against the back of Azzi’s hand.

“Wait,” Paige started, her voice soft but curious. “What happened to Kali?”

Azzi, who was half-drifting into sleep, let out a quiet laugh. “She was sitting next to me when you were on live,” she said simply, her tone amused.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced over at Azzi. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Azzi gave Paige’s hand another squeeze, her voice softer now, as though she didn’t want to disturb the moment too much. “So?” she asked, her words a quiet nudge, a question hanging between them.

Paige turned her head to look at her, her expression calm. “So,” she echoed, meeting Azzi’s eyes. “I love you, and you love me.” She paused, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “So… we’re going to do this?”

Azzi studied her for a beat, her own smile forming slowly but surely. She nodded, her gaze steady. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Paige’s lips curved fully now, her hand tightening slightly around Azzi’s. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Azzi’s smile grew wider at that, something soft and unspoken passing between them as she shifted a little closer, her shoulder brushing Paige’s. “Good,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

…

When Paige and Azzi finally mustered the energy to get up and head to the shower, they didn’t expect to be greeted by half the team. Unfortunately for them, the door opened just as KK, Aubrey, and Jana barged in, looking for snacks or whatever excuse they’d come up with to snoop once Paige and Azzi gave signs of life in the team group chat suspiciously at the same time.

The room fell silent for a split second before KK’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Girl, boo! Y’all were supposed to wait one more week!” she yelled, throwing her hands up like they had committed some unforgivable betrayal.

Meanwhile, Aubrey punched the air in celebration. “Let’s gooo! I told y’all!”

Paige groaned, scrubbing her hand down her face. “You bet on us?” she asked, her voice exasperated but not surprised.

Aubrey grinned, shameless. “Of course we did! Do you know how obvious y’all have been? And I knew I’d win..”

Jana, always the blunt one, crossed her arms and looked between Paige and Azzi. “Y’all are gross,” she said, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her words. “Like, really. You couldn’t wait even a little longer?”

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “Y’all done?”

Azzi, on the other hand, was struggling to keep her laughter at bay as she wrapped an arm around Paige’s waist. “Alright, out. We have a shower to get to, and unlike y’all, we don’t have bet debts to settle.”

KK smirked, raising a brow. “A shower, huh? Together?”

Paige pointed toward the door, her expression flat. “Goodbye, KK.”

Laughing, the group finally started to file out, with Aubrey grinning at Paige on her way out. “Congrats, by the way. About time y’all stopped torturing yourselves.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, Paige let out a long sigh, her head dropping to Azzi’s shoulder. “I swear, I’m not leaving this room for a week.”

Azzi chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of Paige’s head. “It’s gonna take more than a week for all this to go away.”

[luvt0kki]

training wheels | k.h.j

pairing : Professor!Hongjoong x innocent!reader ft!Wooyoung

♡₊˚( wrote this listening to ‘training wheels’ by Melanie Martinez)

summary: Too innocent for your own good, your professor's little hidden crush only grows the more he could spend time with you. You were so pure before his eyes. A sweet young woman who deserves the sweetest kind of love but still had trouble in paradise with her boyfriend…but he’ll be there for you. After all, he only wants what’s best for you and to protect you.

wc: 10.7k

cw: University AU, smut, coquette-ish fem!innocent reader, virgin reader, slightly older Hongjoong, manipulation, obsessive stalker-ish behavior, yandere behavior, corruption kink, cheating , frat boy behavior from Maknae line, oral!male receiving, there'll be more spice in the next part

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: hello so it’s been awhile and this has been cooling in my drafts for so long. Special thanks to @songmingisthighs for helping me whenever I’m stuck with writing and for being one of my favourite persons on this app 😭i wanted to write something that isn’t apart of the Sway With Me universe just for a change and a breather ( I hope you guys don’t mind that). I just wanted to write.

- this is will be a two part series!

READ CONTENT WARNING BEFORE READING!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Note: Hongjoong is a couple years older but he’s still young for a professor. Maknae Line is in their last year of Uni and is part of the University’s Varsity baseball team.Y /N is innocent ( smh). Kinda coquettish vibes but yuh, sweet girl.

The rain storming outside made anxiety bubble in your chest as you clutched your laptop bag and books tight. You glanced at your phone, the bright red bar of the little battery icon glaring at you. That just made your situation even worse and it didn’t help that the last message you saw was the reason you were stranded here in the first place.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. The team meeting is going overtime tonight. Get home safe. Please message me when you’re home.”

You waited for him. You should be angry at him but instead, you were only heartbroken and sad that he didn’t keep his word. You were frustrated that you couldn’t even hate him the slightest bit for forgetting to pick you up and the sudden downpour was just the cherry on top.

“Ms. L/N, is that you?”

That voice. That familiar tone that you heard every Monday and Wednesday from 8 am til 10 am. The voice that made your Art Appreciation lecture so interesting that you’re excited to come early every morning to learn sounded from behind you.

You turned around and quickly bowed your head in his direction out of respect.

“Mr.Kim.”

The young professor frowned at your presence.

“It is you. What are you still doing here?” He asked, extending his arm a bit to glance at his silver watch. “It’s almost 11 pm.”

“I-It started raining…” was all you could say. You couldn’t nor want to admit to your university professor the real reason why you were stranded on campus.

“Indeed…,” he gently grasped your arm and pulled you into the covered shade of the hall. “Do you need a ride home, Ms. L/N? I was just about to leave and go home but I can drop you off at the nearest bus stop or if you’d like, your home.”

His offer made your heart melt. Mr. Kim Hongjoong has always been so kind and sweet to his students. He has always shown such care and patience to their studies and well-being, and as the many girls in your classroom would whisper amongst each other, he was also very handsome. Which was a fact everyone in the whole campus knew.

“I don’t want to be of a hassle to you, Sir. I can wait for the rain to stop.” You tried to kindly turn down his offer, not wanting to bother him but also you felt it was inappropriate for a student to be in any proximity to a professor alone.

“Ms. L/N, it’s late and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. I assure you it is not a bother to take you home. I’ll be worried if I just left you here.”

He was right. Both about the rain and the time, and you’re never out this late. Well at least not alone and it made you antsy. Mr. Kim looked at you with so much care in dark brown eyes that it felt impossible to say no to his kind offer.

“O-okay.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of your professor's fancy car.

You looked around subtly observing the luxurious interior of the vehicle. It smelled like new leather and Mr. Kim’s cologne. Your phone buzzed breaking your little observation as Mr. Kim typed in the location of your apartment into his phone GPS.

“Baby? Are you home? Please let me know.” The text message notification shone brightly.

You let out a little sigh.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice your rather wilted demeanor. He looked over you in the corner of his eye as he started the car. Little did you know, he was admiring your look today. You didn’t have class with him on Fridays so seeing today was rather…refreshing. Baby pink always looked so pretty on you, he thought to himself. Your blouse almost had a ballet-like aesthetic to it, it wrapped around your torso so elegantly and gently accentuated your curves. It was matched with a very pretty flowy white skirt that wasn’t too short nor too long, and there was a thin pink ribbon in your hair, the finishing touch to your very sweet ensemble. You always dressed so cute.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He asked his voice so calm and gentle that it calmed your silent frustration.

“Not really…” you muttered your gaze down at the hem of your skirt, your books, and your laptop sleeve on your lap.

The defeated expression you wore made the older man’s heartache for you. He didn’t like to see you like this. You were like a ray of gentle sunshine whenever you entered his classroom, a doe in a beautiful blooming field of flowers that radiated warmth that made anyone and everyone around you comfortable and calm. It was odd to see you like this.

“If you want to talk about it I’m all ears,” he offered with a smile, reaching behind the head of your passenger seat and glancing behind as he reversed up his car from the parking lot.

Your heart raced at the gesture. You didn’t know what about it was making you feel all flustered and small. His kind words and warm tone made it hard to keep your emotions in. Maybe you can just tell him…a little bit.

“I waited for my boyfriend to pick me up…but he didn’t come.” You murmured, heart aching as you said those words.

Hongjoong’s heart dropped, and he raised a brow at what you just said. Your boyfriend didn’t show up?

“I know I shouldn’t be so upset…it’s just he promised. I understand he has obligations to his team…I just feel like he forgot about me.”

Your sweet voice was so small. Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to soothe you and reassure you. Underneath all of that, he was bubbling with irritation. He kept a softened and caring expression on his face as he listened to you, gripping the stirring wheel to hide his annoyance.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” he said so sympathetically. “You’re such a sweet girl to be so understanding of your boyfriend. If I remember correctly your boyfriend is…”

“Wooyoung.” You whispered his name, your lips between your teeth as you tried to hold back your disappointed tears and hurt.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened.

Right.

Jung Wooyoung.

“Ah…yes. The university’s baseball star.” He was also a student in one of his classes. A heartthrob along with his best friend and Baseball Vice Captain, Choi San.

“I’ll feel better when I get home and sleep it off.” You didn’t want to talk about him forgetting to pick you up any longer.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Ms. L/N, how long have you been together?” He asked, hoping his question was not so out of the blue as he continued to drive.

“Almost three months now, Mr. Kim.” You replied, the idea of being with Wooyoung for so long making you a little happy despite tonight’s disappointment.

Lucky bastard. “Oh, that’s very recent.”

“I know…but he’s very sweet to me. He takes care of me and he really makes me happy.” You listed the good things that always made your heart flutter. Your sweet loving boyfriend who had pursued you and never pushed for anything you weren’t ready for. If you were to describe your relationship with Wooyoung, it was like the love you see in the movies.

“That’s good to hear. You’re one of my sweetest students and I’d be worried if you weren’t happy,” Hongjoong smiled, earning the reaction he wanted and expected from someone as innocent as you.

Your pretty eyes widened at his words and you looked even shyer. He wondered if that’s why your boyfriend was attracted to you.

You didn’t know what to say but there was a small smile on your face when he called you one of his sweetest students.

“Thank you, sir.”

Sir.

Hongjoong’s night was getting better than he could ever imagine. First, the surprise of seeing you still on campus alone as he left, then you accepting his offer to drive you home, and now, Sir? For a long time, he loved how that name slipped from your pretty glossed lips.

“I’m sure your boyfriend feels really guilty about not having shown up. Sometimes these things happen.” Hongjoong tried to reassure you, not really wanting to defend the University senior you were seeing but he needed to say what you wanted or needed to hear.

You take his words as it is. He was older than you so he knew about these things more than you. He was wiser. He was right, these things do happen. Wooyoung did apologize too. So maybe it’s not as bad as you were making it out to be.

Hongjoong noticed how you sat up a little, no longer sulking so cutely in the passenger seat. He smirked a little to himself, his eyes on the road. Did you trust his words that much? Was that how much power he had over you?

You were too innocent it concerned him.

You were truly a doe in a field of flowers. So pretty and so completely oblivious to the wolves hiding in the tall grass. He was sure your boyfriend was one of them and that he too had a deep dark desire for your innocence.

“Is this your place?” He pulled up outside an apartment complex, people passing by in the street as he looked up at the building observing it.

“Yes, it is!” You chirped, happy that you were able to get home safely and it was all thanks to your kind and sweet professor. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kim. I really appreciate it. I really cannot thank you enough…and talking to you made me feel better. I’m really lucky that you were here tonight.”

Hongjoong smiled, holding back from reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to scare you away.

“If you ever find yourself in any kind of trouble, Ms. L/N, you can come to me okay? Here,” he reached into his pocket, getting his card but writing down his personal phone number in the back of it before holding it your way.

Like he expected you didn’t think much of it, what a sweet girl.

“Mr. Kim you’re so kind.” You took the pretty name card with his phone number in the back. “I don’t get into trouble but I appreciate this. Thank you.”

“Let me help you get inside, okay?” He got out of his car with an umbrella, going over to your side to open the passenger seat door and to hold the umbrella over you and him so that he could escort you to your apartment lobby.

You stepped out of the car and blushed when you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders to gently guide you to the sidewalk and your apartment lobby. He made sure you were dry and safe and also took note of how an access card is needed to get in. He was glad you lived somewhere so safe.

You thanked him again, unable to look him in the eyes because the warm smile on his face was making your heart flutter.

“Now I can go home without worrying if you got back safe,” he lightheartedly teased, making you giggle. He was such a kind person. “Take care of yourself, Ms. L/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Enjoy your weekend, Sir.” You bowed your head respectfully, appreciating how handsome he was in his coat and suit. It made him look like a character from the dramas you see on television.

Monday rolled around quicker than you thought while Hongjoong found the weekend went by agonizingly slow. As he set up his laptop in the lecture hall as other students filed in, he couldn’t help but anticipate your arrival. He kindly smiled and greeted the students who had the energy to wish him a good morning, he even kept glancing at your seat that was still empty.

Were you not well? Did you catch a cold over the weekend from the rain on Friday night?

“You really didn’t have to walk me, Woo.”

Your gentle soft voice made the professor perk up and his heart race a little. Subtly, he glanced at the door, more students entering but behind them in the hall was you.

“Hey, I still feel guilty about not having picked you up on Friday. I’m gonna make it up to you.” Wooyoung placed his hand on your waist, feeling the soft fabric of your skirt. “You’re too nice if you’re just gonna let me off the hook. I’m gonna be extra attentive, okay baby?”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the young dark-haired boy, his varsity jacket telling everyone that passed who he was and the status he had in the university. He zeroed in on the hand on your waist, Wooyoung’s thumb caressing you gently and his fingers even playing with the cute ribbons on your skirt.

“O-okay,” you blushed, trying to fight back the giddy smile that was forming on your face.

Wooyoung grinned at your response and glanced left and right before pulling you closer til you were pressed against him. Your wide eyes looked up at him in surprise and you got your body tingling when both his hands rested on your waist.

Your fluster only made your handsome boyfriend grin even more with that twinkle in his eyes that always made you feel special.

“You have a nice day, okay?” He whispered and before you could respond, without a care in the world and with no shame if any other student passing would see, he leaned down and kissed your glossed lips.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. This was different from the soft pecks and quick kisses he’d give, these were the kisses you liked from him. The deep ones that made your head feel all hazy. The one that made heat pool in your lower belly.

Wooyoung pulled back and pressed another kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

“O-okay.” You murmured, feeling everyone’s curious eyes on both of you and wanting to remain hidden by Wooyoung’s form.

Wooyoung smiled and then licked his lips. “Oh? Strawberry?”

The mention of your flavored lip gloss made you look up at him, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“You’re gonna have me craving you all morning, baby.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “How will I ever survive? One more.” He tried to go for another kiss and you squealed as he pulled you back.

“Woo, I have class!”

“But strawberry!” He pouted as he kept you in his embrace, some students rolling their eyes at the two of you and some finding the two of you cute and amusing. Wooyoung’s teammates from down the hall caught wind of the two of you and hooted.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ll be starting my lecture soon.”

The voice of Mr. Kim made your eyes widen as embarrassment made you want to hide from his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Kim,” Wooyoung spoke his professor's name with no shame of getting caught being affectionate with his girlfriend. “Morning!”

Hongjoong could only manage a nod to his greeting before turning to you, still in your boyfriend’s hold and unable to look him in the eyes.

“Ms. L/N, class starts in five minutes.” He spoke sternly, his tone making your lips form a small pout.

The way you reacted to him made the older man before you swoon. God, you were too cute.

“Yes, sir.”

There it was again. The way you said ‘sir’ all defeated and cute.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” Wooyoung apologized. “My bad.” He removed his varsity jacket and draped it over your shoulders before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch, baby.”

Then Wooyoung sauntered away with a swing in his step and his bag over one shoulder, on his way to his respective class.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” You murmured, keeping your gaze down and hugging your books to your chest as you went inside the room along with the last few students who arrived.

Hongjoong watched as you made your way to your seat. Your pretty skirt swayed with each step and he wondered if skirts made up most of your wardrobe. It must be such a delight for your boyfriend.

Loosening the grip he had on his pen as he watched the whole interaction between you and Wooyoung, he smiled at his students. What mattered the most to him was you were safe. You were here and you were safe and well. Never mind the fact that you and your boyfriend easily made up from Friday night’s incident.

You were here.

The lecture was an enjoyable one not only for the students but him as well. As he discussed the significance of art during the Roman Empire, his students were all hooked in with his explanations and discussions, and even he got carried away excitedly with every question and topic.

“Mr. Kim is so hot.” A classmate beside you, Jennie, whispered to her friend, the two of them giggling as your professor shared his knowledge with the class.

“And he’s so nice too. You think he’s a virgin?” Minsol whispered back and you felt your heart grow hot listening to them.

You fidgeted in your seat and tried to block them out, focusing on Professor Kim.

“He’s so young to be a professor. Maybe he spent all that time studying to the max, you know! Maybe he is!”

“He’s so cute.” Minsol chuckled. “But then he’s so sexy when he pushes his hair back.”

And almost as if on cue, Mr. Kim ran his fingers through his dark brown locks, pushing them back as he smiled at his students in awe at the discussion.

He was handsome. You admitted that a long time ago. Attractive? Yes. But he was your professor. It was wrong to think of him the way Jennie and Minsol were.

Til now, their voices couldn’t be blocked out completely.

“I’d gladly blow him for a good grade,” Jennie whispered, her eyes looking Hongjoong up and down.

“Jennie!” Minsol playfully smacked her friend, her voice still hushed.

“What? Just think of it. Goody two shoes Mr.Kim so kind and worried that your grades are slipping, and then you tell him you’d do anything to raise your grade.” Jennie described the scenario so vividly. “No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors.”

Your heart was racing in your chest as you listened to the fantasy. It didn’t help that Mr. Kim was right there before your eyes as Jennie’s voice whispered discreetly to her friend such a scandalous scenario.

“But it won’t stop there.”

That piqued your interest and you felt ashamed to have been so curious.

“He has a nice car too. Imagine fucking in the backseat of that luxury car way past campus hours in secret.”

Your heart thumped strongly at the mention of his car. You had been in his car and the dirty thought of Mr. Kim being all over your body and kissing you in the spacious backseat crossed your mind.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned all his students, happy that they were enjoying the class but paused when he saw you. Your body was swallowed by your boyfriend’s big varsity jacket and you looked flustered, even biting your glossed lips, fidgeting in your seat.

Then he saw the two girls next to you giggling and gossiping. What were they talking about that was making you blush so much? Briefly, your eyes moved from your notebook and locked with his but you immediately looked down when you saw that he had been looking your way.

Hongjoong could only assume they were talking about him. In what way? He wasn’t sure but it was a way that was making you look even shyer and could he dare say, hot and bothered?

Then the bell rang.

“Alright, we’ll continue the discussion on Wednesday and I’ll hand you all your Renaissance art period essays that I already graded then. Have a nice day.” Hongjoong’s elegant and calm voice echoed in the lecture hall, as he made his way behind his desk, sitting out the papers.

A chorus of thanks was sent his way as the students little by little exited the lecture hall. He looked your way, watching as you packed your things and gathered your books.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jennie turned to you. “How are you and your stud of a boyfriend?”

“Oh, m-me and Woo?” Your lashes fluttered so prettily as Hongjoong pretended he couldn’t hear you and the girls.

“Yeah! We saw you two being all cute and kissy out in the hall.” Minsol chuckled as she touched up her makeup with powder.

“We’re great.” You couldn’t stop the happy smile on your face as you thought of your boyfriend.

“He’s your first boyfriend, right? Have you two…you know….”

Your brows furrowed. “Have we what?”

Hongjoong fought his sigh at how oblivious you were.

Minsol’s eyes widened as she snapped her compact closed and leaned over. “You guys haven’t?”

“What are you two talking about?” You tilted your head like a puppy.

The two girls exchanged looks of shock.

“Y/N…” Jennie leaned closer, lowering her voice even further but Hongjoong’s ears were sharp. “Are you a virgin?”

Immediately, your face was burning as you hugged your books to your chest, wanting to cover your face with Wooyoung’s jacket.

“Holy shit!” Minsol exclaimed then realized she had been loud. She looked towards the whiteboard and saw Mr. Kim looking at the three of you questioningly. “Uh…sorry Mr. Kim!”

Hongjoong only smiled and he shook his head, returning to his papers and was glad that he was sitting behind his desk as the idea of you never being touched morphed from shock and into desire. He kind of guessed you were…but dating the star athlete and heartthrob of the campus made him second guess that you were.

“Girl, you need to come with us!” Jennie hooked her arm with yours and Minsol on the other as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall.

“Bye, Mr. Kim!” They chimed as they dragged you out with them.

“B-bye, sir.” Your little voice reached his ears as the three of you finally left him alone in the empty hall.

Hongjoong hunched over, crossing his arms on his desk as he groaned.

You were driving him insane.

What’s worse was that you didn’t even intend to do so.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

As the afternoon passed, Hongjoong made his way to his office. The hall was empty as students were in their classes or their club activities. It was peaceful til he heard hushed whispers ahead from an empty classroom, the door only slightly ajar.

The professor frowned. Were there students doing another weed deal on campus? Before concluding, through the very small gap of the wooden double doors, he took a peek.

“S-someone could walk in.”

Was that his sweet Y/N’s voice? Hongjoong’s heart began to race.

“Baby, I promise no one is. This room is always vacant at this hour.” Wooyoung reassured you, kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, specifically caressing your thighs that were parted as he stood between them.

Hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat.

Perched on the large mahogany desk, was you. Your skirt was hiked up higher as your boyfriend pressed against you, his paws all over your soft body, feeling you through your clothes.

“You look so sexy in my jacket,” Wooyoung whispered in your ear, his hand moving lower til they were under your skirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you looked during lunch.”

You softly yelped when his fingers pressed against your core through your cotton panties. “W-woo!”

“Awe, baby, are you getting wet? All for me?”

“W-woo,” you whimpered when he traced his fingers along your slit, embarrassed at the dirty talk.

“Fuck, you’re soaking through your panties, baby. Tell me you want me to touch you. Ask me and I’ll make you feel good, baby.”

You wanted him to keep touching you but you felt a little guilty. You had started to feel hot way earlier than your boyfriend knew. Jennie and Minsol’s hushed whispering from class about Mr. Kim…ashamedly had made you ache.

“M-make me feel good, Woo.”

Your boyfriend groaned against your neck, rubbing you through your panties. “My pretty baby. You deserve so much.”

Your back arched when he applied more pressure to your clit.

“I’ll make you feel good, baby. I promise…. but I won’t make your first time here in a classroom.” He kissed your neck messily, licking your skin.

“But Youngie…” you didn’t want him to stop touching you. He has touched you like this many times before when he came over but it never went past that. He didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for but as time passed and the more you fell for him, you’ve been wanting to go all the way with him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you cum. I’ll be a good boyfriend and let my pretty girlfriend cum.” He kissed your forehead, slipping his hand under your panties to truly feel you. “You’re so wet, baby.” He moaned, collecting your slick and spreading it all over your pussy.

“Youngie,” you whimpered, gripping his shirt as your thighs trembled at the delicious friction.

“I love it when you call me that,” he sighed, repressing the urge that he indeed in fact wanted to ruin his pretty untouched girlfriend. He loved you and he wanted to treat you right as best as he could. You weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. He liked how you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

Your thighs squeezed at his sides unable to close as he continued to play with your pussy, touching you heavily and the way you liked. You couldn’t help but softly moan and pant at the intoxicating pleasure.

Hongjoong was burning with jealousy. A part of him wanted to disrupt the two of you and scold the two of you for misconduct as he had every right as a professor to do so. But…you looked so pretty falling apart for your boyfriend. Brows furrowed as your lips part and sigh, the setting sun hitting your skin in such a way that the lewd imagery before him was like a movie. He could feel his desire straining in his trousers. He wanted to watch.

“Youngie,” you whimpered so prettily.

Hongjoong took note of how your back arched when Wooyoung nibbled and kissed at a spot on your neck. You must be extra sensitive there. He also imagined how soft your breasts would be if he was the one cupping them through your cute blouse.

“You close baby?” Wooyoung rasped against your ear, rubbing your clit faster, making you lean your head forward to rest on his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, his right hand leaving your breast to grab you by the chin, making you look at him. “Let me see your pretty face, baby.” He swiped his thumb over your lower lip and bit his lip when you suddenly took his digit into your mouth, softly sucking on it. Where the fuck did you learn to do that? “C’mon, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”

You released his thumb with a soft pop, your lips even glossier from your gloss and saliva. You were panting and moaning so cutely, Wooyoung felt he was going to cum in his pants just at the sight of you getting off his fingers. He massaged your clit faster, watching the way your lids began to droop as you blinked up at him hazily and your lips part in a cute little ‘o’.

“Youngie!” You cried out, back arching and thighs trembling as you reached your high, your pussy dripping more arousal all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Such a pretty baby.” Wooyoung cooed, enjoying your fucked out expression. It was addicting really. His sweet innocent girlfriend falling apart for him. If you were this fucked out by just fingers, he can’t imagine how fucking delectable you looked when he finally fucked you.

Hongjoong bit his lip as he watched you come down from your high. How your arms wrapped around your boyfriend as he slowed his circles on your clit. He wished he could see how your pussy looked, how wet it was, and how sweet the nectar it produced.

Wooyoung took his hand from your panties and brought his fingers to his lips, your eyes widening. His hand left its grip on your face.

“W-woo!”

That didn’t stop him from letting his tongue dart out to lick his digits. “You taste so sweet, baby. Maybe I’ll come up tonight once I drop you off and really have a good taste of you.”

You blushed at his words and felt heat spark in your lower belly at what he hinted. Did he mean that he was going to kiss and taste you down there? With his tongue? The idea made your cheeks grow hot but that only made your boyfriend grin.

“Oh? You’re not opposed to it?” He teased, enjoying the way you only huffed and pouted your pretty lips. “Here, baby. Taste yourself.”

Hongjoong watched as you wearily, so curiously, poked out your cute tongue to lick your boyfriend’s fingers. How did you taste? Did you like it? You batted your lashes up at your boyfriend who awaited your verdict.

“So? How do you taste?” He took your hand in his other one, just relishing the moment you two had in the orange sunset-lit classroom.

“G-good.”

“Atta, girl.” Wooyoung grinned, taking you into his embrace and kissing you again.

Hongjoong felt his head pound from how hard he was in his pants. He wanted a taste. He needed a taste.

How was he going to get close to you when you and your boyfriend were all fine and dandy again?

“What do you say, baby? Friday night? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. I’ll bring your favorite strawberries coated in chocolate. Then maybe…” he caressed your cheek. “We could go all the way?”

“W-won’t it hurt?”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s hearts ached at your sweetness.

“Well, when Friday rolls around, and you’re not up for it. It’s okay. We’ll just have a cozy little date and make out. I’ll wait for you when you’re ready. Okay?”

His gentle voice along with his care for you made your stomach flutter. “O-okay.” You leaned your cheek into his palm. “I love you, Woo.”

“I love you too, baby.”

While you and Wooyoung basked in the moment you two found yourselves in, Hongjoong made a beeline to his office and locked the door. He glanced down and saw the bulge of his cock poking through his tailored trousers. He threw his head back, slamming it against the door as he groaned.

He was going to have to take care of it himself cause it wasn’t going to go away til he did.

He didn’t know when the stalking— okay, in his defense, following and keeping an eye on you, started.

All Hongjoong knew was, he needed to get to know you. He needed to get closer somehow, be a friend. Someone you could turn to and cry to. Plus, you lived alone, away from your parents. You needed someone to protect you.

From all the wolves that surrounded you, including that boyfriend of yours.

As he passed the baseball field from where he parked his car, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of young wolf pups gathered and talking beneath the morning sun. They all wore the same varsity jacket, making Hongjoong’s pack of wolves analogy even truer.

“So? Did you and Y/N go all the way yet?” The Vice Captain of the team asked, the young and handsome Mr. Choi.

The rest of the boys began to nudge and tease their Captain who had been tossing the baseball in his hand nonchalantly.

“Yeah, have you and little Miss all prim and proper done more than just second base?” The tallest of them, Song Mingi, joined in the teasing, the boys all grinning and tossing oo’s and ah’s. “Your girl has a nice ass.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung harshly hissed at his teammate. “Yeah, and that’s my girl you’re talking about.”

“Can’t blame Mingi. You’re with the campus’s dream girl.” Jongho added, running his fingers through his brown hair.

“Dream girl?” Wooyoung’s brows furrowed.

“Yeah! Sure she’s lowkey and literally the nicest person on campus. Hell, she even helped me with calculus. I even thought of asking her out on a date.” San chirped. “But you got to her first. Anyway, that’s beside the point, did you guys finally do it? Friday night?”

Hongjoong remained hidden behind the shadows of the bleachers, needing to know the answer to San’s question.

“We didn’t. She got nervous and you know, I have to be a good boyfriend and wait. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s a nice girl.” Wooyoung finally responded, his answer earning a groan from his friends.

Mingi stared at him for a moment. “You should be a saint. That amount of self-control is crazy.”

“Well, good things come to those who wait, Mingi.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m a hundred percent sure my girl is worth the wait and more.”

“You’re really down bad for her, huh?” Jongho laughed softly, actually admiring the fact that Wooyoung was becoming a better guy with you.

“Y-yeah…she is. I really love her.”

“I just can’t believe she fell for you. After all the girls you slept with in the past and the parties. She still fell for Jung Wooyoung. Anyways,” Jongho clapped Wooyoung on the back. “I hope you get some soon.”

San wouldn’t relent though.

“Has she at least been…you know….giving? I know you worship the fuck out of her in different ways but has the pretty princess given back?”

Hongjoong should head back to his office before he’s caught but…he needed to know the details.

“San, she doesn’t know how.”

Wooyoung’s response made San groan and Hongjoong fought back his own.

“She’s a fucking angel your girlfriend.” San huffed his crush on you not concerning Wooyoung as he knew San would never cross the line.

“Dude, when you get to teach her, it’s gonna be so fucking hot.” Mingi sighed, thinking of who to contact for his next hookup. He needed to fuck.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but agree. To teach someone as beautiful and pretty as you, how to use your cute mouth and delicate hands…the fantasy of you between his legs while he sits on his office couch…guiding you while you look up at him for him to lead you…the young pups have a point.

“Okay, can you guys chill and not talk about my girlfriend like that?” Wooyoung lightly scolded his friends. “Anyways, you guys better be on your best behavior for tonight’s practice. I'm driving Y/N home for our date and I really don’t want to have to bail again because Coach isn’t happy with our performance.”

“We’ll do our best,” San spoke for them, sending a pointed glare to Mingi and Jongho, they’re bickering always getting their Coach to overtime their practices. “But coach hasn’t been in a good mood as far as I know.”

Wooyoung swore under his breath, worry bubbling in his chest when he imagined your disappointment and the way your eyes become glassy as you fight back tears. He really didn’t want to make you feel like he didn’t care about you again…he knew you understood his obligations to his team. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget to update you this time and keep you waiting for him.

Hongjoong didn’t stay long after that. He went off his merry way back to his office, wondering if tonight would be another chance to have some time with you again. Be your knight in shining armor if your boyfriend doesn’t pick you up again.

All he needed to do was stay in your good graces.

After all, he just wanted to take care of you…

It began with longer conversations after class, asking how you were doing and if you understood the lecture or not. Then when midterms started to round the corner he would casually stay past campus hours just so that he could ‘by chance’ be finishing up late at the same time you were finished up studying in the library.

But this time, when he found you, the sun was beginning to set and you were in one of the library aisles, in the sections students don’t frequent, on the floor hugging your knees to your chest. Your back was against the tall wooden bookshelf and you were by the window, your head below the window pane as you softly sniffled.

Hongjoong felt his stomach twist. What did your boyfriend do?

“Ms. L/N?” As softly as he could, he called out to you and he saw you visibly stiffen.

“M-Mr. Kim?” You kept your head down, too embarrassed to look up at him because he would see the tears and puffiness in your eyes.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He slowly approached, observing your body language if you would shrink away from him. He kneeled before you. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, fighting back the way it quivered as you wanted to tell him exactly what happened but you were crying over something so silly.

A gentle warm hand softly patted your head, your heart stopping at the touch. Maybe you could tell him everything. Besides…he has been so kind to you and only ever wanted to make sure you were okay. When the two of you spent time together and talked, you would sometimes forget he was your professor and not just a friend.

And yet, your heart couldn’t help but want to be in the palm of his hand, knowing he’d be gentle with it.

When you lifted your head to look at him, the tears in your eyes had Hongjoong almost falling to his knees and wanting to embrace you right then and there. “I’ll take you to my office okay?” He offered, taking out his handkerchief and putting it in your trembling hands.

“O-okay.” You murmured.

With a guiding arm around your shoulders and making sure no wandering eyes would see the two of you, the likelihood being low since it was past class hours, the varsity teams were training and it was a Friday, he led you to his office.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, clutching his handkerchief in your hand, a part of your brain contemplating the idea of being vulnerable in your professor's office. It was highly inappropriate. Should anyone find out—

You were torn from your thoughts when a pair of warm arms wrapped around you so gently. You blinked a couple of times unable to process what was happening and the beating of your heart. Hongjoong cradled the back of your head as he held you close to him, your cheek brushing against his neck.

“It hurts to see you cry.” He whispered, unable to hold himself back from soothing you then he pulled away and led you to the leather couch in his office.

You sat on one end while he was on the other, the gap between you reminding you of the intrusive thought of the distance you and Wooyoung might have soon…

“What’s wrong, darling? You can tell me, you know. I’m always here to lend an ear. Whatever it is I won’t judge you, especially when it hurts you this deeply.”

Hongjoong tried to meet your eyes that were cast down on your fingers on your lap, fiddling with his handkerchief. Was it your boyfriend? He swore if it was Jung Wooyoung he was going to teach that boy a lesson.

Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to speak freely to him.

A moment of weakness?

“I-I overheard Youngie’s friends when I was in the library…they were about to leave for practice and…” you felt that lump in your throat creep up higher, making you want to sob again as you remembered what they said. “They said that they felt b-bad for him.”

Bad for him?

“It’s a bit…tmi…sir. I’m sorry it’s hard to speak about it.” You stared at the edge of your skirt, feeling the shame and embarrassment you had felt earlier crawling on your skin.

“Ah? TMI.” Hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing to make it comfortable for you to tell him. “Well, Ms. L/N, we are two adults, aren’t we not? Plus, it’s after university hours. I’m here for you right now as a friend and I’d like to help soothe your troubles if you would let me.”

It was almost too easy the way you caved into his words. Jung Wooyoung did not deserve a sweet girl like you.

“Youngie’s teammates…said they feel bad for him because I haven’t…” you paused, heat blooming in your tear-stained cheeks. “I haven’t slept with him.” Then you felt that ache in your heart return. “I don’t want to lose him, Mr. Kim. I love him so much. I-I want to be a good girlfriend.”

Hongjoong’s heart broke. His beautiful wilted rose. How dare those dumb boys speak so ill of you?

“You’re a good girlfriend I’m sure, Ms. L/N.” He reassured you with such calmness, his words made you perk up a little. “You didn’t hear these words from Wooyoung himself right?”

You nodded.

“But even though…I still want to make him feel good. He always makes me feel…” you trailed off, realizing that you were talking about the intimate things you and your boyfriend do. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with Wooyoung like that…I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Disappoint him how?”

“Wooyoung has been with girls…with experience. He’s my first boyfriend and he’s the first man to ever touch m-me…kiss me…”

Hongjoong was fighting back the attraction grew the more you spoke about your lack of experience. He couldn’t believe those boys had you questioning your worth all because you were scared to go all the way with your boyfriend.

“I-I even tried watching…videos…on how I can do things for Wooyoung…but I just am too scared to initiate it. What if I do something wrong and it goes horribly?”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about that. I’m sure your…” Hongjoong held himself back from saying what he said with jealousy. “…boyfriend would be more than happy to teach you. Has he offered to?”

You shook your head.

“Ah…I see.” Hongjoong sat back, trying to think of what to say next. “I’m pretty sure what you lack is practice…” he trod carefully, gauging your expression with each word he was choosing. “You’ll never know til you give it a try. With everything in life, you learn as you go.”

He watched as you took each word seriously, a rather sweet pensive look on your face as you nodded at his advice. Hongjoong hoped he didn’t cross the line by saying that and made things awkward between the two of you.

“If I may speak as another human being helping another,” Hongjoong continued, hoping to calm your stormy mind. “I just hope you don’t feel pressured to do anything with your boyfriend or anyone. It’s very sweet of you to want to do something this intimate with someone you desire but I’d rather you won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, going over all the caring and sweet affirmations Mr. Kim was giving you. How was it you felt so safe with him? He was too kind to you…yet you enjoyed the company he gave.

When Wooyoung wasn’t able to take you home from extended practices and last minute cancellations and texts, Professor Kim was always there to somehow salvage the day. To stop the breaking of your heart with his warm smile and effort to get to know you and make conversation.

“M-Mr. Kim…”

You finally spoke. Hongjoong smiled warmly at the call of his name. He observed how your cheeks began to flush. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you hesitate to continue. You suck in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be brave and look him in the eye.

“Could you guide me?”

Nothing but your voice rang in his ears at this moment. Hongjoong was shocked by the question. Was it a question? With the way your eyes were bleary and glossy, how your lips were trembling, and how flustered you appeared. It was a plea.

“Ms.L/N….” He tried to resist as much as he could, knowing that if he were to cross the line, he wouldn’t be able to go back. You were his forbidden desire. If he were to take a bite, he would want nothing more than to consume you.

You knew what you asked was silly and inappropriate, and a part of you regretted asking but if you were to leave this room right now, all you would be able to think about was how Wooyoung’s friends talked about you and wonder how much Wooyoung shared to his friends about yours and his relationship.

Mr.Kim looked speechless and flustered from what you asked of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

“Mr.Kim, I-I’m so sorry,” you quickly blurted out, trying to salvage the odd atmosphere. “Please forget everything I said. Thank you so much for comforting me—

"Are you sure you want me to help, Ms. L/N?” Hongjoong stopped your rambling, taking your hand that you hadn’t realized was trembling from nerves but the moment he spoke and he touched you, your body found a sense of calm. “I just don’t want to make you do anything you’ll regret.”

Oh, he wanted to help.

“I-I wouldn’t have asked anyone else but you...I feel safe with you.” You mumbled shyly, staring at his pretty hand holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles.

“Your trust in me is something I shall cherish and I wouldn’t dare break it.” He looked you in the eyes as he said that, the warmth and intensity of them made your heart flutter. “I promise I’ll keep it strictly professional and I’ll make sure to put your comfort first.”

Your heart fluttered again. “O-okay.”

“How would you like this to go?”

“I-I’m not sure…Wooyoung usually takes the lead whenever we do anything more than kissing…” you were speaking so softly, it was pulling at Hongjoong’s heartstrings. You were so precious. “I wouldn’t mind you taking the lead…teach me how to make Wooyoung feel good.” You squeezed his hand nervously and he kept his soft smile on his face, hiding his excitement.

You’ll let him take the lead?

“Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with okay?” He caressed your cheek fondly, forcing himself to not brush your lips with his thumb. “Tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

“Thank you, sir.” You whispered, feeling all tense as he got closer.

Sir? Were you trying to kill him? He scooted closer, your knees touching his own. “Do I have permission to touch you, darling?”

The pet name made you feel just a little bit more hotter. The way he said it, his voice a low purr, made you feel things you thought you’d only feel with Wooyoung.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Experimentally, he slowly glided his hand up the side of your thigh, the sweet gasp falling from your lips making him smirk against your neck. He brushed his lips against your neck, before whispering in your ear. “You’ve watched videos as research, correct?”

You stuttered out your response, feeling your body grow warm with the way his hand smoothed up and down your thigh, never going higher than where your skirt stopped. “I did…” Was it wrong that you wanted his hand to move higher?

Hongjoong held back from kissing your neck, testing the waters of what exactly he could do to you. His hand moved to your waist now, caressing the curve of your side then stopping so that his thumb was just below the underside of your bra covered chest.

“Why don’t you show me what you learned, hm? Then I’ll guide you along the way.” He suggested, his tone going just a little lower than usual.

And that’s how you found yourself on your knees, between your professor's trousered thighs, your eyes looking at him with such uncertainty and the willingness to learn.

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure you won't disappoint,” Hongjoong reassured you, petting your head lovingly while his thoughts were going wild at the mere sight of you all cute and demure between his legs.

“O-okay.”

As you had watched and observed, you placed your hands on his thighs. They trembled a little. What if you messed up here too? You shook the thought away. Professor Kim was going to guide you. You’ll be okay and then you’ll be able to make Wooyoung feel good too.

All of this was for Wooyoung.

You slowly slid your hands up his thighs feeling the smooth fabric of his trousers as you recounted the videos you had seen. You remembered how the woman in the video would trace her fingers over the man’s groin…but was Hongjoong even…turned on?

You remember how stiff Wooyoung would get when you were on his lap as you two made out, his hands running up and down your sides then over the curve of your ass, squeezing it.

Do you need to kiss Mr. Kim too?

Before asking, you experimentally softly placed your palm against his groin, blushing to find that he was hot and rather stiff through his pants. A shaky breath escaped him and you retracted your hand.

“W-was that not okay?”

“It was fine,” he managed a smile for you, getting hard at just how shy and sweet you were. “You’re doing fine.”

“O-okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, gliding your palm over his clothed groin before sliding higher, your other hand joining to unbuckle his belt.

Each gentle and inexperienced touch or ghost of your fingers over his crotch was making his cock twitch to life. It was so easy for him to be turned on…well…because it was you. It was endearing how focused yet nervous you were and once you tugged his briefs down low enough for his cock to spring up, your eyes stared at his length.

From his reclined position on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you, he was able to notice the way your thighs squeezed to tether at the sight of him.

Your face was hot as your eyes took in the sight of his cock. It was way more intimidating to see one in person than on a screen…was it odd for you to think it was rather pretty? The head was a soft pink and it glistened with something that made your tongue somehow itch to want to try and wrap your mouth around him. Would he fit in your mouth? Would he fit in— you stopped yourself from thinking that. You can’t go all the way with Mr. Kim, you were going to do that with Wooyoung.

Feeling his warm gaze on you, you gently wrapped your hand around his length. The feeling of him hot and heavy in your palm, the girth of him, made your core pulse.

Hongjoong bit his lip at the gentle touch, the smoothness of your palm, and the dainty way you held him making him sensitive to whatever you were doing. He knew it wasn’t on purpose that you were prolonging any sort of movement, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“Tell me what you learned,” he managed to speak calmly. “Or what you observed.”

Squeezing your thighs together and inching closer to get into a comfortable position, you thought of what to answer. “In the videos…the girls take their partner in their mouth…and some just move their hand…I'm not sure what to do next, I’m sorry.” You looked away, embarrassed.

This was exactly why you never initiated it with Wooyoung. If you did and you messed up or did not even follow through, he would’ve mentioned it to his friends somehow in their talks.

Hongjoong saw how nervous you were and tried to suppress the desire to command you what to do and how you should do it, he placed his hand over yours that was softly holding his cock. He couldn’t be mean to you…as much as he wanted to completely control you and make you feel pleasure that would have you falling apart for him, he wanted to be gentle with you.

“I’ll guide you, okay?” His other hand petted the top of your head, making the nerves yo I had been feeling dwindle. You nodded.

“You have to spit on it first, sweetheart.”

His words made your eyes widen. The dirty notion was embellished with a sweet term of endearment. Hearing it from him, from the mouth where only kindness, care and knowledge was all you heard come out of it, made you feel warm.

“Spit on it?”

“I know it sounds odd but it’ll help. I’ll guide you on how to use your hand first. Don’t be shy, darling.”

His encouragement only made you want to do as he says. You told yourself it only feels weird because you’ve never done it before and Mr. Kim was kind enough to help you be more confident when the time comes for you to do it with your boyfriend.

Leaning over, you collected your saliva and spat softly. Hongjoong bit back any sound that dared escape him at the moment not ready to break the promise of being professional for your sake but the warmth of your spit and how shyly you did it turned him on even more.

“Now,” he guided your hand. “Spread it around with my precum like this.” He loosely moved your hand, letting your dainty fingers be covered by the mix of your spit and his precum. “It’ll be easier to move your hand this way, it’ll feel good.”

You nodded, feeling the slickness against your palm and how it now easily glided along his length with his hand still over yours.

“You have to hold it just a little tighter.” He closed his hand over yours a little tighter but not too tight but just enough to tell you how much pressure you should be applying.

“L-like this?” You adjusted your grip and slowly while your hand moved in slow up and down motions, he removed his hand and a deep sigh of bliss left him.

“Just like that, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice dipped lower and his head rolled back a little, giving you the perfect view of his sharp jawline and pink lips.

Your eyes kept shifting from his face and to his cock in your hand, entranced somehow by the idea of how he was feeling good by just your hand. Watching a video was completely different from actually doing it. You recalled the way a girl in a video would twist her hand as she glided her hand up and down, and you decided to try the motion.

Hongjoong hissed out a curse at the new movement. “That feels good.” His hips bucked up a little, pushing his cock up in your hand.

Feeling a little braver, you leaned forward to press your lips on the head of his cock, kissing it and feeling heat surge to your core at how warm the tip was against your lips.

Hongjoong lifted his head from its thrown back position to look at you, the sudden sensation of your soft lips on his cock turning him on further.

“You want to try that already?” He asked, his hand gripping the armrest of the couch when your doe eyes looked up at him so innocently, your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and nodded, it was driving him crazy. It was getting harder and harder to retain any sense of composure. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me what you learned. You’re already doing so well. You look so cute like this too.”

His words of praise and compliments made both your heart and core throb. It made you try even harder to please him. You wondered if it was okay that you were getting wet. You could feel your slick sticking to the gusset of your panties and against the lips of your pussy.

Hongjoong moaned softly when he felt your hot tongue swirling around his cock head. He twitched within your hand continued their rhythmic twisting and up and down rhythm. He watched as you tasted him. He could see the way your brows furrowed at the taste and when he felt you take more of him in your mouth and suckle at the sensitive tip of his cock, you were making it harder for him to not buck his hips up into your pretty mouth.

“You doing okay?” He asked, gently placing his hand behind the back of your head, caressing you.

You nodded, humming, the vibrations of your sound adding some extra pleasure to the way you were giving him head.

“F-fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Such a good girl.”

The way he said that made your pussy clench. Why did that have some effect on you? It sounded so hot coming from him and it made you want to please him even more.

Eventually, you took what you could of him in your mouth, fighting back your gag reflex and bobbing your head shallowly along his cock. Your hand continued to jerk what you couldn’t fit of his length in your little mouth. You were aching so bad, you couldn’t help but let your free hand slide between your thighs to find your pussy, surprised at how wet you were. It was easy to spread your arousal all over your cunt and begin massaging your clit the way you liked, settling for the friction of your fingers.

Hongjoong noticed your dainty hand between your legs. The sight of you suckling and bobbing your cute head up and down along his cock, and touching yourself was sending him to the edge. Plus your lips tinted with pink gloss were mixing with your saliva as you continued to suck him off. You were so fucking cute.

“I’m close darling. You’re doing so well. You had nothing to be so nervous about. F-fuck.” He shuddered when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you squeaked so adorably, the sound muffled. What a cute little slut you were touching yourself as you stuffed your little mouth with his cock. Though he was saying such sweet praises, deep down he wanted to fuck his cock into your mouth and watch you cry from taking him. He was betting you’d look up at him with wide pleading eyes with tears as you let him use you as his personal cock sleeve.

The mere thought of that sent him over the edge and without warning, he came. A small squeak left you as sudden hot spurts of cum spilled into your mouth. You latched off of him in surprise, your hand still pumping him as he came. His moans and the way his head was thrown back, made you stop touching yourself so you could focus fully on the way he climaxed all over your face.

“Fuck!” He groaned as his hand that was cradling your head gripped your hair and his hips bucked up into your hand, riding out his high. You whimpered as he tugged at your hair, the sensation making your clit throb. Why did that feel good? Why did having his release on your cheeks and in your mouth, turned you on?

“Open up, darling. Let me see.” Hongjoong tugged your hair back almost forcibly, his gaze almost predatory, it scared you a bit. You’ve never seen such a dark, menacing yet charming expression on your sweet and kind professor.

You parted your lips and he smirked.

He wondered if you knew just how cute and ruined your look right now. Pink gloss smeared over your lips and your cheeks flushed and stained with his white sticky cum, and the best of all, his seed was on your tongue.

He wished he could take a picture.

You didn’t realize you were breathing slowly as your heart was racing and he stared down at you with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t quite place.

“You look so pretty like this, darling.” His grip on your hair loosened and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb dipping into your mouth as you still obediently kept your lips parted for him. He smeared more of his cum all over your lips and chin, finding the idea of him on your skin so hot…it’s like he marked you. “Such a good girl.” He cooed and you didn’t know why you did what you did but you swallowed his salty release, and his reaction made it all worth it. “What a perfect girl you are.”

His praise only made your heart flutter, his words only feeding that part of you that wanted to please him…to please Wooyoung.

“D-do you think Woo will like it?” You asked, your voice a little hoarse as you sat there on your knees, looking up at him so sweetly.

Hongjoong held back from rolling his eyes at the mention of the boy who didn’t deserve you. He masked his annoyance with a smile. “He’ll like it, darling. You did really well. I mean it.” He took his handkerchief and began to clean you up, gently dabbing your cheek.

Despite the ache between your thighs, you couldn’t stop the way a smile grew on your face at the approval from your most trusted mentor.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kim—

“Hongjoong.” He cut you off with a gentle smile, looking at you lovingly.

“What?” You stuttered that same feeling you felt earlier, the confusion of the same way he made your heart flutter like Wooyoung does.

“You can call me Hongjoong when it’s just the two of us, darling. I think with how close we’ve gotten…I’d like you to call me by my name. Don’t you think we’re rather close?”

There was something about his eyes that captivated you. It was so magnetic it was hard to not be completely wonderstruck and in control of that powerful gaze.

All you could do was nod.

“That’s a good girl…” he cooed, smiling warmly. “Perhaps, you need more guidance. You want to be a good girlfriend for your Wooyoung right?”

You did, you wanted to be the best girlfriend for him.

“I do…”

“Sometimes what you see online is not entirely reliable. I’m offering you…private lessons…doesn’t that sound good for you?”

You nodded, letting him pull you up on and onto his lap, gasping when your core pressed against his thigh.

“I’ll teach you all there is to know. I want what's best for you and for you to know exactly what you’re getting into.” He ran his hand up and down your thigh, slowly. “You don’t want to disappoint Wooyoung, right?”

“I don’t Sir…” you said so quickly.

So innocent. So naive. So dumb. So perfect for him to ruin.

He never thought he’d get to this point.

All this time, he has only ever admired you and desired you from afar. He kept his reputation as a well-loved and kind professor so that no one and you, especially you, would ever question his motives.

“Now, I think we should try this again. You did really well but I can teach you a little extra something that will make your boyfriend so, so, so happy.”

feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl with you and I love feedback. It keeps me writing.

special tags : @khjcs @skteezcursed @caityelise99

[reidrum]

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“S’it an animal?”

“Nope.”

“A character?”

“Mm, sort of.”

“What d’you mean sort of? Either is or isn’t.” Simon tries to rationalize with you from where he’s sat, arms stretched out wide along the back of the couch. He’s waiting for you to come out of the bedroom and show off the Halloween costume you apparently had to buy when you spotted it in a shop the other day.

Instead of sauntering out of the room and simply showing him the costume though, you’re making him guess what it could be. You’re always making him work for it, his missus. He can’t get enough of you.

“Nuh-uh,” you disagree with him. “Someone could dress as a sports player but not be a specific player. Could dress as a mermaid but not be the little mermaid, ya know?”

“Okay, I see watcha mean, lovie. Can I please just see you now?” Simon relents, all too eager to get a glimpse at your costume.

He’s never been a big fan of Halloween. Growing up, his front doorstep never had a pumpkin proudly displayed on it (not that any of the kids in the neighbourhood would have gone up to the door to trick or treat anyway, had there been one), and the handful of years he made an effort to take Tommy out their costumes consisted of last minute bedsheets thrown over their heads, pillow cases used to collect their loot.

He enlisted not long after high school graduation, and so there are no memories of college Halloween parties with mates and girls in scandalous costumes. But having seen the cheeky grin on your face as you scurried into the flat, refusing to let him peek at the costume lest he ‘ruin the surprise’ as you put it, hearing your sweet giggle as he swatted your bum and told you to get on with the show then, well, he could see Halloween growing on him.

“Any final guesses?” You say, peeking your head ever so slightly out the doorframe to catch a glimpse of your love where he sits patiently waiting for you, careful not to reveal any of your costume yet.

“Not a single one, pretty.” He answers without hesitation, ready for your reveal. In actuality, Simon’s mind has been absolutely swimming with ideas of what you might potentially walk out in. He’s aware that some women take this ‘holiday’ as an excuse to wear some more risqué clothing, and he finds the front of his pants growing tighter at the possibility of you walking out in something he’ll make sure never leaves the walls of your flat again.

“Well, Johnny thought it was pretty hilarious, if that helps at all.” You giggle, looking into the mirror one last time to make sure the costume looks right.

“Johnny??” Simon asks bewildered. “Love, don’t be textin’ that bloke so much, he’s got nothin’ but rubbish ideas in his-”

Simon loses his train of thought as he watches you step out into his line of sight, eyes tracing your figure from head to toe, and back up again.

“Is that-”

“I’m a Ghostbuster!” You squeal excitedly. “Isn’t it great, Si? I’m already so good at busting ghosts!”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hashira reader smacking Zenitsu and sending him to her crush Iguro to teach him a lesson

original idea and inspiration by none other than queen @sitarawrites and this post right here

Pairing: Obanai x fem!hashira! reader

Word Count: 1,1k

Warnings: Zenitsu being a creep and getting payback for it

„Please, you have to give me a chance!“

„Zenitsu, I think that’s enough-„

„You have to be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen! Let’s marry as long as we’re still alive!”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, you creep?”

“I’m so so sorry for his behavior-“

“What’s going on here?”, you interrupt the little chit chat in front of you sharply.

You sign to yourself. Just like you expected, another wave of losers that just arrived. 2 girls, a few of those basic guys and…

You furrow your eyebrows, a wave of nauseous disgust getting a hold of you the second you see him. That blonde haired guy who looks at you as if you’re a piece of meat.

“Oh, who are-“

Without even allowing him so finish his sentence, you grab his blonde hair with one hand while smacking him flat-palmed with the other.

“Just let me make a few things clear before we’re even starting”, you hiss, mindlessly dropping his crying figure to the ground.

“If you didn’t catch it already, I’m a hashira and you are here to train under me. But I’m not like Mitsuri or my former master Himejima-sama. We won’t pray around here, we won’t laugh. But most important of all, don’t you dare to piss me off by disregarding me in some sort of way. Got it, Blondie?”

“I think he understood, (y/n)-san!”, the red-haired boy next to him shouts immediately while throwing his unconscious body over his shoulder.

“I know you’re still listening. If I catch you hitting on a corps member like that one more time, I’ll burry you under rocks before sending you over to Igoro-san”, you bark at the boy who again, screams out in sheer fright.

Apparently, his horrible behavior towards females isn’t the only annoying thing about that guy named Zenitsu. If it wasn’t for Kamado, he’d hide inside his room the whole day while crying his eyes out.

“I promise he acts different when he’s unconscious!”

“Do I have to slap him again, then?”

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

Urgh. If it wasn’t for that crow sent by Ubayishiki-sama himself, you would have drowned that boy in the river nearby immediately. And that nice little interactions with a certain someone.

“If he doesn’t treat you right, send him my way. I’ll make sure he’ll never cry again.”

“Nice try Iguro-san. But Ubayishiki-sama forbid me to hurt him and I’m sure the same goes for you, unfortunately.”

“Is he still looking at you all the time? Then it might be worth it.”

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t. But if I catch him crying around like a baby one last time, I’ll send him to you personally.”

“I’ll take that as a promise, then.”

You smile to yourself while reading those well-written lines. Igoru-san…truth is, you definitely kept an eye open for him these past months. Out of all the hashira, he’s the only one you’re really keen to talk to.

“Ahhh, it’s so cold!”

“Zentisu, calm down. Don’t you remember what (y/n)-san told you about-“

“I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! THIS IS LIVING HELL! THAT WOMAN IS THE DEVIL HERSELF! I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE TANJIRO!”

“Please calm down-“

“I’M SURE THE GIRLS AT THE BUTTERFLY ESTATE MISS ME, I’LL JUST RETURN TO AOI AND THE GIRLS-“

“You’re not going anywhere, you fool. I’m having enough of your bullshit”, you interrupt his pity party along with a harsh bow into his stomach that surely makes him see stars.

“I’m sending you to Iguro myself.”

Another well-placed hit, a passed out Zenitsu before you even get the chance to hit him.

“Please, allow me to go with you, (y/n)-san. I don’t think Zenitsu will survive the training of the serpent hashira on his own”, a gently voice speaks out next to you.

Urgh. You hate to even consider Tanjiro’s words. But there’s nothing you’re able to teach him anyway. No matter how much you hate to admit it, but that Kamado boy definitely is something special.

“Fine”, you grumble.

“But only because I want to get rid of you.”

“That’s totally fine! Thank you for teaching me hand to hand combat anyway!”

“Yeah, whatever. Just carry that prick and follow me.”

Your heart beats a little faster with every step you come nearer to the serpent hashira’s estate. How is he doing? Is he excited to see you, what will he say? You haven’t seen each other since the last hashira meeting, didn’t have the chance to speak properly since forever as it seems.

But now is your chance. When it means seeing Iguro-san, that douchebag did have a purpose after all.

“Did you take out the trash, (y/n)?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. You didn’t even sense him until he stands in front of you, both eyes set on you with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I can’t take that whining baby anymore. Make sure to treat him right”, you explain briefly.

“Oh, and I took Kamado with me.”

“Tanjiro Kamado”, Iguro-san hisses, his eyes shooting pure venom Tanjiro’s way.

“Bring that useless boy inside and get some rest yourself, Kamado”, you instruct the boy next to you who springs into action immediately.

“He’s doing pretty well”, you mumble more to yourself than actually talking to Iguro-san.

“Doing pretty well?”

Faster than you’re able to react, you find yourself breathlessly pinned against a nearby tree with his eyes almost piercing trough you.

“I mean…yeah”, you breathe out.

“But I actually came here because I missed you”, you add with unusual low voice.

Is that blush creeping up your cheeks? The serpent hashira almost doesn’t believe his ears. You, missing him? He never thought you’d actually like him, that feelings like missing someone like him could actually exist. But you hold his gaze with reddened cheeks. And you’re here, between his arms.

“I…”

He kind find the words. In fact, it seems like his mind and body aren’t able to function normally anymore.

“I need to go”, he presses out.

“But Iguro-san, I-“

He’s gone as fast as he came, leaving yourself leaning against the tree like an idiot.

What was that?

-bonus-

“I’ll let you suffer for making (y/n) uncomfortable. Did you flirt with her?”

“W-what? Me? I’d never d-do that!”

“I’ll kill you-“

“Please don’t kill him Iguro-san!”

“I’ll kill you as well. You made eyes at (y/n)-san.”

“We’re so screwed”, Zenitsu hisses through gritted teeth.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[ladcedes]

lowkey - ln4

lando norris x reader

request Hi could you write a lando Norris x younger mexican/irish gf reader (21) fc (rae cambra )where they keep things private because she doesnt want hate and her instagram is private too and shes always seen with lando and they went on holiday together smau pls.

note first request ever omg... thank you so much for this anon! pretty sure whoever requested actually forgot abt it atp... im sooo sorry this took me like half a year to get to I actually never check my inbox 😭😭😭

set in the summer bcs why tf not!

paddockwags 14hrs ago | 4hrs ago

paddockwags 3hrs ago | 3hrs ago

paddockwags

liked by dhsj.77 and 32.887 others

paddockwags lando norris and his girlfriend, yn ln, seen in monaco 📸

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starlandos how did they even meet bruh 😭

⤷ bownorris exactly she has like zero social media presence how are they even together

⤷ paddockwags @.bownorris lots of athletes meet their wags through mutual friends so it’s likely that

amourln4 i give them another week 🥱

f1.wagspot

liked by 41.826 others

f1.wagspot lando norris’ girlfriend, yn ln’s, instagram account revealed!

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favspiastri hold up does anyone think they meet through alex?? since they follow each other…

lncult WAITTT if u look back at some of alex’s posts u can find a glimpse of her

⤷ fourclaren so what she used her friend to get herself a famous bf? social climber 😒😐

f1.wagspot

liked by f1wagsfashion and others

f1.wagspot lando norris spotted enjoying the sun with his girlfriend in mallorca ahead of the azerbaijan gp!

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4norrism are him and charles in the same place??

⤷ princeleclerc omg lando and charles vacation meetup?!?

silverstonel4n icb he’s stayed this long with a girl who’s so hidden from the spotlight

⤷ mcl4ren she’s so different from his past gfs it’s crazy

yourusername

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 5 others

liked by riabish and 216 others

yourusername when your schedules all line up >>>>

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alexandrasaintmleux bestie holidays ❤️

liked by creator

⤷ yourusername cheers to more! 🥂

landonorris hope you liked your graduation gift ml ❤️

⤷ yourusername calling it a graduation gift really isn’t helping the allegations yk…

⤷ landonorris @.yourusername well in your defense i only paid for the plane and the guys split yacht costs so i think we’re good 🤓 you deserve it anyway 🤷‍♂️

landonorris trip finally made it out of the gc!

⤷ alex_albon stop trying to be relatable your trips always make it out of the gc. you're rich.

⤷ landonorris @.alex_albon then how come our golfing trips rarely happen :(

⤷ georgerussell63 @.landonorris have you thought about not planning them spontaneously, during race weeks, in a range halfway across the world?

⤷ yourusername @.georgerussell @.landonorris were you silent, or were you SILENCED

landonorris

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landonorris sun’s out… summer break!

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ln4tion don’t be shy lando… finish the phrase 😁

⤷ formulamclaren fr when did this guy get pr training 😂😂

fourrari is this finally the official hard launch

⤷ gr63atest does it count as a hard launch if her face still isnt visible 😭😭

⤷ fourrari @.gr63atest 😭 at least we got confirmation tho

ladcedes keeping up with the 'comments as an author's note' tradition: I really hope this one meets expectations! I think it's a bit short but I didn't rly know what to do...

slightly suggestive bonus :]

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Ooo hi! Can I please request an (everyone lives au + Endgame never happened au) Avenger!Bucky X wife!reader where they got married right before Bucky went off to war, and when Bucky fell off that train (and she thought he had died), she didn’t even get the time to mourn because Hydra abducted her and brought her to where they were holding Bucky so that they would have leverage against him. They keep her under cryo the entire time Bucky was the Winner Soldier, so that alongside brainwashing him, they threatened his wife if he stepped out of line. Now present day, Bucky has joined the Avengers and they manage to find and recuse Y/n from Hydra after so long.

Ugh imagine how emotional it’d be for Bucky and Steve to see her again, and the team would make her feel safe and at home! And Bucky would be there every step of the way helping her adjust to one, being out of cryo after almost a century, and two, being in the 21st century!

You Came Back For Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Wife!Reader, Husband/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: After finding out his wife had been abducted by HYDRA when Bucky was the Winter Soldier, Bucky is now an Avenger and goes back to rescue you with the help of Steve and the Avengers.

Warnings: Fluff, language, abduction, HYDRA, trauma, nightmares, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵 I love how beautifully you described this and I had fun writing it!🥰

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks and nightmares. I used Google translate for the Russian translations.

Translations: Give her the serum - Дайте ей сыворотку

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

1943

“We just got married a couple days ago. Do you have to leave so soon?” You asked with a pout.

“I know and I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers. “Look at the bright side, I’ll be home before you know it.” He says, kissing you sweetly and passionately.

———

1945

“Bucky died?” You asked, making sure you heard Steve right.

“Yes.” Steve answers. “I tried reaching for him, but the handle he was holding on to gave out before I could get to him and he fell off of the train.” He explains.

That whole day, you tried to process the death of your husband. “Bucky is never coming home.” is the only thing being echoed in your head. That night, you laid in bed, staring at Bucky’s side of the bed with tears stained on your cheeks. Before you could even react, a hand with a white cloth was put on your mouth. You tried your best to fight off whoever was behind you, but you grew weak the more you inhaled the chloroform and you soon passed out.

SIBERIA - HYDRA BASE

Your eyes fluttered open. You groaned, squinting your eyes to adjust to the light. You looked around the room, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. This isn’t yours and Bucky’s house. It was some kind of lab.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself.

You went to stand up, but couldn’t. Your arms and legs were strapped to the chair you were sitting in. You yanked at the restrains to get loose, but it was no use. The restraints were too tight for you to get free. You jumped at the sound of the door opening. You looked up, seeing a man in a suit and another man in a white lab coat.

“Good to see you awake, Mrs. Barnes.” The man in the suit says.

“Where am I? Who are you?” You asked.

“My name is Arnim Zola and you’re in HYDRA’s base in Siberia.” Zola tells you. “You are our newest addition. You’re going to help out perfectly with our Winter Soldier program.” He explains. “Дайте ей сыворотку.” He tells the man in the lab coat.

The man in the lab coat approached you with an IV that had some kind of suspicious liquid in it. You began to panic. You yanked at the restrains to get free, but it still didn’t work.

“This might burn.” The man in the lab coat said with a Russian accent.

You yelped when the needle pricked your skin. Thats when the pain and trauma began.

———

“Get the woman.” Zola says to an HYDRA agent.

The HYDRA agent nodded and went to the cell they kept you in. You jumped at the sound of the door opening. You scooted back as far as you could on the bed. The agent approached you, grabbing your arm with a bruising grip and yanked you up from the bed. He put handcuffs on you so you didn’t try to do anything. He held onto the chain of the handcuffs and lead you to where the lab. There was a man with a metal arm and long hair sitting in a chair. He’s the Winter Soldier.

There was something about the long haired man that looked familiar. His eye color, hair color, height, and facial structure was the same as your dead husband’s. That’s when it hit you. You gasped with wide eyes. The Winter Soldier is your husband Bucky.

“Bucky!” You say loudly.

The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you.

“Bucky, it’s me Y/N. Your doll.” You tell him.

“Y/N… doll…” The Winter Soldier mumbles to himself.

His eyes widened. The woman in front of him is his wife.

“Oh my god…” He mumbles completely speechless. “Y/N!” Bucky says.

You smiled, happy to hear him say your name. Bucky went to stand up, but two HYDRA agents pushed him back in the chair. You tried to run towards him, but you were yanked backwards causing you to fall down.

“Here’s what’s going to happen…” Zola began, standing in between you and Bucky. “Soldat, I see you recognize your pretty little wife.” He said. “She’s going to be perfect leverage against you. If you overstep in any way, your wife gets it.” He explains. “Meaning, you’ll witness your wife get beaten right in front of you if you don’t do as we say.” He adds. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to your wife.” He says.

Zola cleared his throat at the HYDRA agent standing behind you. He nodded and yanked you up from the floor. He then put a gun to the back of your head. Tears were streaming down your face at this point and your heart was pounding so hard that you thought it was going to burst through your chest. Bucky’s eyes widened in horror and his heart began to pound in fear.

“Do you understand, Soldat?” Zola asks.

Bucky didn’t answer. He continued to stare at you. That’s when he got smacked across his face by a HYDRA agent standing next to him.

“Leave my husband alone!” You shouted.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you heard the gun cock. You honestly thought you were going to die right then and there.

“Do you understand?” Zola repeats. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to your precious doll.” He says.

“Yes, I understand.” Bucky finally answers.

“Good.” Zola said. “Wipe his memory and you’re going to watch as your husband forgets every single memory he has of you.” He says, turning to you before walking away.

You watched as one HYDRA agent pushed Bucky back in the chair and strapped his arms down to the arms of the chair. Another one put a mouth guard in his mouth and something on his head. The first HYDRA agent pushed buttons on a machine to turn it on. That’s when they began to wipe Bucky’s memory. The screams of pain coming from your husband broke your heart. You wanted it to stop.

“Stop it!” You screamed. “You’re hurting him!” You screamed again.

A yelp left your lips when the HYDRA agent standing behind you hit you with the handle of the gun, knocking you out. Blood trickle down your forehead from the gash the gun handle gave you.

“Take her to the cryogenic chamber and freeze her.” Zola tells the HYDRA agent.

The HYDRA agent nodded and drug you to the room where the cryogenic chambers are. You got out in one and they froze you in it like the other Super Soldiers. They wrote your name down on a label and stuck it to the chamber you’re in.

PRESENT DAY - AVENGERS COMPOUND

Now that Bucky has escaped HYDRA. He managed to find Steve and reunite with him. He also joined the Avengers. Bucky was beyond relieved that he doesn’t have to endure anymore torture from HYDRA. One thing does bother him… leaving you behind. He didn’t intentionally leave you behind. He wanted to find Steve and come up with a plan to rescue you. Bucky gets little to no sleep, knowing you’re still at that HYDRA base in Siberia.

Bucky managed to escape all of the HYDRA agents and ran out of the base into the cold. He came to a stop a few feet from the entrance and turned around, staring at the open doors.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet doll. I promise I’ll come back to rescue you.” Bucky says to himself, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Bucky was tossing and turning in his sleep due to the nightmare. He was mumbling “I’m sorry, doll.”and “I’ll come back for you.” in his sleep, a thin layer of sweat covering his face. Due to Steve’s enhanced hearing and his room being next to Bucky’s room, he went to check on his best friend. Steve opened Bucky’s bedroom door, closing it behind him. He approached Bucky’s bed and gently shook him awake.

“Buck, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Steve murmurs softly.

“Y/N!” Bucky gasps loudly, sitting up quickly.

Steve took a couple steps back, giving Bucky some space. He turned on the light. Bucky squinted his eyes to adjust to the light. He was breathing heavily. Sweat and tears covered his face.

“You had that nightmare again didn’t you?” Steve says.

Bucky exhales shakily and nods his head yes. He leaned his back against the headboard, rubbing his hands over his face and running his fingers through his long brown hair. Bucky’s eyes were red from crying. Steve sat down on the side of the bed next to Bucky.

“We’ll rescue her. I promise.” Steve says, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky gave him a soft smile. Later on that morning, Bucky, Steve, and the Avengers were in the conference room discussing the plan Bucky came up with to rescue you from the HYDRA base in Siberia.

“Can I say something?” Tony asks.

“Yes.” Bucky says.

“When we do go to the base to rescue your wife, what if she’s not there?” He asks.

“She’s there. I know she’s there. I seen her.” He claims. “I’m not giving up hope on my wife. I need to rescue her. I made a promise.” He says.

Tears brimmed Bucky’s eyes. Steve stood up from his chair, gently ushering Bucky out of the conference room and took him to the lounge room.

“You need to take a break.” Steve tells Bucky.

“I can’t, Steve! Y/N needs my help!” Bucky exclaims.

“I know you want to help her. I want to help her to. You can’t help her if you down take a breath.” He says.

Bucky knows Steve’s right. He sat down on the couch, breaking down in tears. It broke Steve’s heart to see his best friend so brokenhearted. He sat down next to him and comforted him the best he could.

“I miss her.” Bucky cries, his voice cracking.

“I do too.” Steve whispers.

Bucky’s crying died down after a few minutes. He sniffled and wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He then took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

“I’m in charge for this rescue mission.” Bucky says.

“You should be. It’s your plan and your wife.” Steve says.

The next day, Bucky, Steve, and the Avengers suited up and got in the quinjet, making their way to the HYDRA base you’re being kept at. Bucky couldn’t stay still the whole flight. He was pacing back and forth in the quinjet and tugging at his hair.

“I’m on my way, doll.” Bucky kept repeating to himself.

Steve approached Bucky, standing a few feet away from.

“Buck?” Steve catches Bucky’s attention. “We’re about 15 minutes out from the base.” He informs him.

Bucky nodded and went to the weapons area of the quinjet, loading his gun and putting it in the holster on his tactical pants, along with his knife. Steve got his shield and put it on his back. Everyone else got their weapons ready as well.

When they arrived at the base, everyone got off of the quinjet and walked to the base. Bucky stopped a few feet away from the entrance, staring at the door. His breathing became uneven.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Buck. You got this.” Steve says, patting Bucky’s back.

Bucky took a deep breath before approaching the door. He broke the lock off with his metal hand and opened it with Steve’s help. Everyone entered the base. Everyone split up into twos, going to the areas of the base they were assigned. Bucky is with Steve, Sam is with Wanda, Tony is with Bruce, Clint is with Natasha, and Peter is with Thor.

“Do you know where she is in here?” Steve whispers.

“No, but I heard them talking about it many times.” Bucky answers. “If she’s not in any of the cells, then she’s somewhere else in here.” He says.

Bucky and Steve checked the cell you were in before you got put in the cryogenic chamber. The door had a label with your name on it. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat when he seen it. He then kicked the door down. Him and Steve entered the cell, looking everywhere in there, but you were in there.

“She’s not in here, Buck.” Steve says.

“She’s not in the med bay.” Natasha informs through the ear pieces.

“She’s not in any of the storage rooms.” Peter informs.

“She’s not in the labs.” Sam informs.

“She’s not in the weapons room.” Tony informs.

Bucky’s eyes teared up and he crouched down, putting his face in his hands.

“Buck…” Steve murmurs softly.

“N-No! She’s here somewhere! I know it!” Bucky says.

While Bucky was having his moment and trying to figure out where else you could be in the base, a HYDRA agent was walking by and seen the door broken down to the cell.

“What are you guys doing here?” The HYDRA agent asks, putting his hand on his gun.

Bucky stood up and approached him, knocking the gun out of his hand and slammed the agent against the wall.

“Where the hell is my wife?!” Bucky growls.

“Care to be more specific?” The HYDRA agent says.

“Y/N Barnes. Where is she?” He asks.

“Oh, her?” The agent chuckles. “Why would I tell you that?” He says.

Bucky took his gun out of his hostler and shot the HYDRA agent in his foot. The agent cried out in pain.

“Tell me where my wife is!” Bucky growls, putting the gun against the side of the agents head.

“She’s in the cryogenic chamber room.” He finally tells him.

Bucky threw the HYDRA agent to the floor and ran to the cryogenic chamber room with Steve following closely behind him.

“Which chamber is Y/N in?” Steve asks, looking at all of the cryos.

“This one.” Bucky says, walking to the one with your name on it.

Bucky looked inside of the cryo. He felt relieved when he seen you. He just needs to figure out how to get you out of it.

“There’s a button or something that opens it.” Bucky says.

Bucky and Steve looked everywhere for the button, finding it on the side of the cryo. He pushed it and it opened slowly.

“Help me get here out of this.” Bucky says.

Steve helped Bucky unstrap you from the cryo. Bucky gently eased you out of it, holding you against his body. He checked for your pulse. Bucky felt even more relieved when he felt it. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet.

“We found her. Go back to the quinjet.” Steve informs everyone.

The flight back to the compound, Bucky held you close to him and whispered “You’re safe now.” over and over to you. Steve, on the other hand, was in shock. He can’t believe you’re alive. What he does know is that he’s happy to see you and he’s glad you’re ok.

When everyone got back to the compound, Bucky immediately took you to the med bay and got you checked out. The doctors told Bucky everything is fine with you and you’ll wake up soon. Bucky didn’t leave your side for a second and neither did Steve.

“What did they do to her?” Steve asks.

“They abducted her after they got their hands on me and put the serum in her.” Bucky tells him. “They also used her as leverage against me.” He adds.

“Leverage? What do you mean they used her as leverage against you?” Steve asks.

“They umm…” Bucky paused to clear his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, remembering that day quite well.

“I’m sure you don’t anything to happen to your wife.” Zola’s words echoed in Bucky’s mind.

“If I didn’t do what they wanted, they were going to beat her.” He finally says.

“Oh my god. That’s horrible.” Steve says.

Steve looks at you with a soft expression on his face. He furrowed when he seen a scar on your forehead.

“How did she get this scar?” Steve asks, gently tracing the small length of the scar with his thumb.

“She told them to leave me alone and to stop hurting me so a HYDRA agent knocked her out with a handle of a gun when they were wiping my memory.” Bucky tells him.

“Oh my god.” Steve whispers.

Bucky winces at the memory of it, squeezing his eyes shut and tears spilling from his eyes.

“This is all my fault.” Bucky whispers, his voice cracking.

“This is not your fault, Buck. You couldn’t have known HYDRA was gonna get their hands on Y/N after you fell off the train.” Steve says.

“I could’ve done something.” He says.

“You did do something. You went back to rescue her.” He says softly.

You heard two voices as you started to come to your senses. You stirred a bit before opening your eyes, squinting them to adjust to the light in the room.

“Buck, she’s awake.” Steve says.

Bucky looked at you and almost jumped out of his chair to lean closer to you.

“Y/N, doll, can you hear me?” Bucky asks softly.

You thought you were hallucinating at first when you heard your husband’s voice. You turned your head towards the sound of your husband’s voice. You weren’t hallucinating. Your husband is sitting by your bedside.

“J-James?” You asked hoarsely.

“Yes, doll. It’s James.” Bucky confirms.

“I-I missed you.” You murmured, your voice cracking.

“I missed you too, babydoll.” He says softly.

Bucky reached a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it. Steve couldn’t help but let a couple tears spill from his eyes at the sight of his two best friends being reunited with each other.

“Steve is here too.” Bucky points at Steve.

“Stevie?” You asked, turning your head towards him.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve says softly.

You reached a hand out towards him. Steve put his hand in yours, smiling at you.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too.” He whispers back.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, confused about where you are. It’s not the HYDRA base. This place is so much nicer than the HYDRA base.

“Where- Where am I?” You asked, looking from Steve to your husband.

“You’re in the med bay in the Avengers compound.” Bucky tells you.

“Avengers?” You asked.

“They’re the hero’s who helped me rescue you. Steve helped too.” He says.

Your eyes teased up when Bucky said him, Steve, and the Avengers rescued you.

“You came back for me?” You asked in a whisper.

“Of course I did, doll. I will never leave you behind. Never again. I promise.” He says softly.

As you adjust to lift in the 21st century with your husband, you thought it would be difficult, but it wasn’t. Bucky and Steve helped you adjust to the 21st century, along with the Avengers. Everyone has been so very helpful to you, especially Bucky. Wanda and Natasha gave you clothes that belong to them for you to wear. You quickly became friends with the Avengers. It also took you a while to get used to living in the Avengers compound.

You were tossing and turning in your sleep. You were having a reoccurring nightmare from what you witnessed in HYDRA.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” echoed in your mind.

Bucky felt you moving and mumbling next to him. He turned on the bedside lamp and turned to face you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and a sweating a little bit.

“Doll?” Bucky whispers, gently shaking you. “Doll?” He whispers again. “Doll, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He whispers.

You gasped loudly and sat up, breathing heavily and tried to gather your surroundings. You looked around the room, quickly realizing that you’re in Bucky’s bedroom in the Avengers compound, not the HYDRA base. Bucky put a hand on your back, rubbing in circles. You leaned into his touch.

“You’re ok now. You’re safe.” Bucky whispers.

You took a deep breath and nodded, closing your eyes.

“I’m going to get you something to drink, ok?” He says softly.

You quickly grabbed Bucky’s arms before he stood up, holding it with a tight grip.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” He coos in a whisper.

You whimpered, staring in his blue eyes with your teary eyes. It broke Bucky’s heart to see you like this. He leaned towards you, kissing your forehead.

“Do you want to go to the kitchen with me?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes. Bucky stood up, holding his right hand out to you. You put your hand in his and stood up. Bucky led you to the kitchen, holding your hand the whole time. He set you up at the table and got you something to drink. Steve walked in the kitchen for something to drink a moment later, seeing you and Bucky in there.

“You two are up late.” Steve breaks the silence in the kitchen.

You stood up from the table and went over to Steve, hugging him tightly. Steve immediately hugged you back.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” He asks.

You shook your head no. Steve looked at Bucky.

“She had a nightmare.” Bucky tells him.

Steve sat you back at the table before taking a seat next to you. Bucky sat in the chair on the other side of you. He put a glass of water in front of you. You tapped your fingers against the glass, staring at the water in the cup.

“Do you want to tell us what the nightmare was about?” Bucky asks softly.

“It’s always the same nightmare.” You mumbled. “HYDRA hurting you.” You say, tearing up.

“Oh, doll…” He whispers, pulling you close to him, kissing the side of your head. “They can’t hurt us anymore.” He murmurs.

Steve put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You turned your head towards Steve, laying your head against Bucky’s chest.

“I can’t imagine what you two went through, but none of that should’ve happened to you guys.” Steve says sympathetically.

You gave Steve a soft smile. You turned to Bucky, leaning up to kiss his lips softly. You then reached a hand out to hold Steve’s hand.

“I love you guys.” You say softly.

“We love you too.” They say in unison.

“You love me more, right?” Bucky jokingly says, making you giggle.

It warmed Bucky’s heart to hear you giggle. It warmed Steve’s heart too. It made both Super Soldiers smile.

“You know I do, sweetie.” You smiled up at your husband.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll