#and when that gets taken away? what then? how do you face just existing? for no particular reason?

[chunkitakii]

I love these!! Can you one but with public sex with 3D Mr. Ring a Ding? What if they almost get caught by Mr. Pye?

Sure can do Anon!

WARNING: This contains public sex, and Lux being a asshole.

Okay okay, so Lux and public sex would be QUITE an adventure.

This cocky bastard would probably enjoy seeing you all embarrassed and shy while doing the deed in public.

Lux would constantly try and see what he can do to make you louder, trying to push your limits.

But it would help him find more of your soft spots if anything.

And when you have someone ask if you’re okay, Lux would be the type to go even faster so he could see you falter in front of them. Smirking devilishly while trying to stay hidden.

And then when you get onto Lux, he’s going to act like he didn’t do anything. Giving you that sly look and calling you delusional. Gaslighting is his specialty!

(For this one, imma just say that the theater was still active even if the people went missing.)

Today was one of the biggest showings of the year. Showing a movie that people had waited to see on the big screen. And you didn’t know if you were ready for it or not.

You had stayed up late at the Palazzo, trying to make sure everything was dandy and tight for the next day’s showing. You would be a liar if you said you weren’t nervous. 

There was going to be an estimate of 50+ people showing up to see this movie. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but this theater seemed sort of small. And to be honest, you didn’t do well in big crowds.

As the day came, you had spent all day getting everyone's tickets, popcorn, drinks, and all sorts of items they would need for the movie. Dealing with all sorts of people: annoying ones, ones who were rude, and people who were just inconsiderate.

You were so ready to call it a day.

But, to your surprise. Mr. Pye acknowledged your hard work. Seeing you work with no break had made him feel anxious and sorry for you. He had wondered if you would eventually pass out and fall right on your face from exhaustion. 

So, being the good, sweet, kind man he is. Mr. Pye let you have a break. A break that would allow you to sit in the theater and watch the movie that had everyone’s attention. For free too!

How could you resist such an offer? You couldn’t after a long day, so you accepted with little hesitation. 

Going into the playing theater and giving Mr. Pye a silent wave as he stood in the projector room, you sat in the seat farthest away from the people and the screen. The corner of the theater seemed like the best option. Luckily, everyone was seated closest to the screen, away from the back. You had brought a blanket that you had stored in the back for when you had taken naps on the job. 

But you weren’t going to tell Mr. Pye that…

Wrapping a blanket over yourself, you sat back and sighed in relief. You felt all of the stress in your body leave, making you groan in satisfaction. Now, you can enjoy a movie in which you have no clue what is going on and sit back and relax after a hard day of work.

…

“Gee, you look like you’ve run a marathon, sunshine!”

Never mind.

You quickly turned your head to the familiar voice, only to find the pain of your existence, Lux.

Lux sat back in his chair, arms behind his head, and his cartoonish feet were lying on the chair in front of him. Lux had a goofy smile planted on his face, like he's about to ruin your whole career.

“Lux, what the heck? When did you get in? These people are going to see you!�� You whispered and yelled at the same time, looking around frantically to see if anyone saw him. But the only thing you see is still the back of everyone's head. Lux only rolled his toonish eyes at you and blew raspberries in response.

“Oh pluh-ease! Not a single soul is going to even notice me. They all have their faces glued to the screen like it’s the best thing they’ll ever see!” You tried to shush Lux and try to get him to be quiet, but he still continued. “This plotline doesn’t even make any sense! I’ve seen better shows at the Kentucky Derby!-” You slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Would you shut your cartoonish little mouth up! The last thing we want is to have people return their money because of you!” You scolded him once more, but all you got was a couple more mumbled words in your hand.

Lux pulled your hand off of his mouth; a sound similar to a suction cup was heard. “Fine, fine, whatever you say…” That was all that Lux said before putting his gaze back on the big screen, and you did too.

You got comfortable once more in your seat, getting re-snug in your blanket, and you lay back and relaxed.

Suddenly, you can hear fake, long, whistling snoring beside you; no doubt it was Lux.

This is going to be one hell of a movie…

In the next 30 minutes of the movie, Lux would not stay still on his feet or even shut up. Lux would ask you lame jokes like knock-knock jokes or ‘what do you call…’ jokes. Or just plain old noises that were far too annoying and loud.

You had told him countless times that he should be quiet and stop it with the jokes and noises. But Lux still continued with his bickering.

You guess he just loved seeing you mad.

You almost gave up trying to until Lux managed to let out a loud one of his biggest ones yet. Lux, being the prankster he is, let out the most comical “yawns” in history. It wasn’t even a real yawn either.

The movie had one of its silent moments, and the theater went quiet. Everyone was waiting for a certain scene to happen. And then suddenly, “Yawn!”

Yoh quickly slapped a hand over Lux's mouth and ducked behind the seat in front of you. The audience looked around, wondering who had said such a rude thing. After a few minutes, everyone calmed down and continued to watch the movie.

You still held Lux underneath you, now glaring him down for his obnoxious behavior. “That is it, Lux! You are being way too loud! If you are going to keep this up, then get out!” You whispered loudly at him. 

You can see Lux’s face furrow in annoyance. “Loud? Loud?! Oh, I’ll show ya’ loud, sweetheart!” He argued back before he grabbed the hem of your blanket and got underneath it. Crawling his way up between your legs until you felt his fingers pull at the hem of your pants/dress.

”L-Lux? Cut it out!” You whispered at him, knowing where he is going with this. You tried to wiggle your way away from him, but that only gave him more access to tear your pants off of you. You felt yourself gasp at the sudden cold air but also pissed that he was doing this. 

You were going to yell at Lux once more, but you then felt the blanket on you too if you shuffled more. And before you know it, Lux was now in front. The blanket was over his head like a hood, and he positioned himself so his head lay on your shoulder but still craned to see your reactions that are soon to come.

Lux sat on his knees while in between yours. Both of you were in a position that resembled missionary, but while sitting up.

You can now see the evil, toothy smirk he now has. He could tell you were getting pissed at him, so before you could even say a word. Lux had begun to grind his lower half against your open area.

You gasped and tried to stifle a moan, but it just came out like a whine, if anything. You bowed your head and onto Lux’s shoulder in embarrassment. Hopefully to keep you from letting out too much noise.

But Lux had other plans.

You felt a hand on your neck, pushing your head up from Lux’s shoulder. “Ah, ah… Keep that pretty little head of yours up. I want to know how loud you can get…”

The movie had reached the climax of the story. And everyone was starting to finish up their popcorn, drinks, and candy. However, you were about to finish in a different way.

Lux, still in your seat, along with you, did not move an inch. Instead, he had sat there, cock deep within your core. 

You clutched onto Lux underneath the blanket with both your arms and legs. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to keep him there underneath the blanket that kept others from both seeing him and seeing what the two of you were doing.

Why do you have Lux in a leglock to keep him from moving? Simple, because you knew the minute he moved, you wouldn't be able to stop the noises coming from your mouth.

Before such, Lux had this little game in his head. When the theater went quiet, he would give you his all. Meaning, he will go to town trying to make you at least scream once. But yet you didn’t.

Now see, he knew your body. If Lux just kept on going, you would be able to keep your pretty little mouth shut, and Lux does not want that. So, giving you short bursts of pleasure in pumping his shaft deep within you, it would definitely do the trick in getting you to raise your voice.

When the theater went quiet, Lux could feel your legs tighten against him. You knew what he was about to pull next, and you didn’t want to walk about all day in embarrassment from your filthy whines.

You stared down at Lux, who was peeking under the blanket with his famous toothy smile. Looking up at you like he’s not about to make you regret all of your life choices. “L-Lux, I swear. If you do this, I’m going to kill-” 

Thrust!…

It was one single thrust of his that did it. You swear you saw your life flash before your eyes as a shockwave of pleasure coursed through your veins. You let out a filthy whine and tried to cover your face in embarrassment. But Lux’s blue hand still had a firm grip on your neck.

You can see heads turn and look around the theater, wondering where the lewd noise came from. Your face had instantly turned hot, and shame and embarrassment ran hot through your body.

Oh, how you wanted to die right then and there…

Lux can vividly see your face and how cute your expressions were as you were overcome with both pleasure and embarrassment. 

He had also noticed how the theater was still quiet. The film still had one of it's ‘silent and dreadful’ moments. Jackpot.

Thrust!…Thrust!… Thrust!…

It was all so very filthy. He could hear every hitch and whine in your breath as he moved his hips and how his and your regions collided with each other.

You tried to tighten your legs to lock him in, but everything Lux gave you made your legs weak all over again. Your little mews didn’t help either, each one growing louder each time.

You can hear the seat underneath the two of you creak and groan. And the shuffling of Lux under the blanket.

You were hoping that the movie could finally move on from its silent, thrilling scenes and continue. But Lux’s thrusts only grew in speed; he was slowly losing himself. The excitement of this situation he has brought the both of you in has gotten the best of him. 

Lux thinks that maybe he should do this more often with you…

The credits of the movie roll, and the audience collects their empty popcorn buckets and drinks. Turning their heads to the back of the theater to head back out. 

Good news: you had made it out beforehand…

Bad news: You're fighting the urge to have your legs give out on you…

As soon as Lux’s little game was done, you ran out of the theater. You didn’t even have enough time to clean yourself up. You had a job to take care of. But the filthy feeling of Lux’s cum slowly sliding down your legs was making the job harder for you. (A white tear ran down your leg LMAOOO)

As people started to walk out of the theater, you had bid everyone a good night with a sloppy smile on your face. You're pretty sure you look like a hot mess right now; your work clothes are now wrinkly, and your hair is now a mess.

That devilish celluloid had made his dramatic exit when you pleaded with him to get off of you so you could get to work. He didn’t want to, but after what he caused you, he could spare you.

Now, you stood at the entrance of the theater, waiting for everyone to get out so you could clean it up for the next day.

“How was your break? Did you at least settle down and enjoy the movie?”

A familiar voice spoke to you, catching you off guard. Making you stand up straighter than you ever were. You turned around and saw Mr. Pye, waiting for your answer. 

“Oh, it was okay.” You spoke, but you couldn’t help but have your voice crack in front of him. 

“I take it you took it as your nap break, I assume.” He continued as he took a good look at you, noticing your rough form. You nodded at him quicker than you should have.

“Well, I came to ask you if you noticed some…odd behavior in there. Those gosh darn teens were messing around back there, I know it.” Mr. Pye spoke with a stern voice; he seemed pretty pissed about it.

“Odd behavior? What do you ever mean?” You replied back, wanting to know if what you are hearing is correct. “Well, you know…” Mr. Pye then stuttered profusely, not knowing how to say his next few words. But you knew what he was trying to get at even before he spoke.

And then it hit you…Mr. Pye had heard you in the theater…

You could feel your face becoming very hot, and embarrassment had risen up once again. Your boss had heard you whining, crying, and moaning to Lux.

“Oh, no. I haven’t seen a thing. I was asleep...” You simply stated to make it not obvious you were hiding something. Mr. Pye nodded at you and continued to change the subject to how the movie was and how it was poorly written.

But your attention was caught by the snickering of a certain toon. Laughing behind your back at your embarrassment.

Lux would absolutely LOVE embarrassing you in public, its his new found entertainment!

This guy just likes messing with you, what can he say.

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

What I'm hearing is that Davrin joined the Grey Wardens because he was lonely.

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Part One + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, sexual content, dacryphilia, daddy kink. Reader is neurodivergent.

Simon Riley is a simple man. 

Now. 

Cobwebs cleared, shattered shards of glass painstakingly swept away, lacerations stitched and glued back together. He's climbed the mountain of his mind and descended down the other side. Hurdles jumped, skeletons dragged into the light and then cut down. 

Guess that's what happens when you finally decide you want to live, instead of exist. 

At least he figured it out before he died. 

He's old now, older, signature sore back and creaky knees worse then they were ten years ago, sciatica pain when it rains, headaches whenever he's spent too long looking at paperwork (should be wearing his glasses, but can only bring himself to do it at home.) He's even soft around the middle a bit. 

Still, there are some things that never change, some things that are amplified by time. Skill, focus, dedication. Thirst. 

The thirst is what keeps everyone in line, keeps everyone's head down after a salute, eyes shifty and hands clenched. He still strikes fear. He doesn't mind. 

It's how he got here. How he ended up standing in front of a team, his team, tackling a debrief. It's only given him more of what he know nows he craves, the aspect of control that was so long missing from his life, taken from him by others, by their actions, their decisions. Now he has it in spades. He learned to indulge it, practice it, hone it, and when it reared its head in other aspects of his life, he didn't shy away. He embraced it, experimented with it, figured out what he liked, what he didn't, what he truly needed. Chewed on it, for a while. 

A casual fuck here and there, fine, but not enough, not nearly. 

He's built a house after all. 

It's all spilled over though. Run away from him and out of the base, infiltrated his home, crawled across town- 

and set it's sights on something it can sink it's teeth into. Something it won't let go of. 

Daddy's girl. 

"C-captain Riley." Your hands press to your stomach, anxiously wiping away smatterings of batter and flour, and he tries to screw his mouth into a flat line to hide his smile at the hitch in your breath. 

"Hi sweetheart." 

"What can I... what can I get for you?" He sweeps over the case, eyeing the piled high pastries and bagels, muffins and quiches still warm. 

"Just a coffee today." You nod, lip tugged between your teeth, hand practically shaking as you reach for the stack of cups. When he was a younger man, he wouldn't have patience for this, or you. Wouldn't see the bright side to this, these moments he shares with his girl at the bakery, his nervous little fawn he's finally coaxed to look him in the eye for more than ten seconds at a time. Being in your forties will do that to you, he guesses. 

Time heals more than he ever thought possible. 

"Black?" 

"That's right." He indulges himself as you turn around, tracing your curves, the swell of your ass in your leggings. You wear an apron at your waist religiously, cinching it tight, hips and thighs and everything else perfectly framed. He loves those leggings, and hates them every time he catches an overzealous prick leering at you over the counter. 

"Do you um, do you want room for cream?"  The answer is always the same, but you still ask, and he doesn't mind. 

"No, I'll just take it as is." He eyes the pan of raspberry sweet rolls sitting on the counter, cream cheese icing slowly melting across the top. They're his favorite, but he's putting on too much weight, and with the next mission around the corner, he can't afford to be too soft. You look up at him shyly, gesturing to the giant buns. 

"I made your favorite." Fuck. He can't. He shouldn't... but he can't stomach the idea of dimming your glow, killing you excitement, the eager look on your face as you wait for his approval. 

"Y'know what... the boys are always complaining I never bring them anything. I'll take the whole pan." Your eyes turn to saucers. 

"The wh-whole pan? Really?" You brighten into a sun, glowing with pride, and he rewards you with a smile. 

"Is that okay?" 

"Of course!" You blurt, half panicked, "of course I just... okay. Let me-" You go to put the coffee cup down in front of him, but the bottom nicks the edge of the counter and like everything has turned to slow motion, he watches as steaming hot liquid comes flying from the top, half splashing, half spilling all over his uniform. He catches it before it rolls off the end, but the damage has been done, and tears line your lashes. 

The woman waiting in line a few feet behind him snorts. His vision turns red and he whirls on her with a glare, satisfied when the color drains from her face and she runs off. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so s-so-sorry,” you’ve come around the corner with paper towels, trembling like a leaf as you stare at the stain on his jacket, wide eyed and frantic. 

“It’s okay, it was an accident.” 

“N-no, your uniform,” you croak horrified, “I ruined it, I’m so sorry.” You hiccup a little, trying to suck in some air while you succumb to panic, and he takes your hands in his, squeezing gently, trying to ground you. 

“It’s alright baby, it’s okay,” you don’t even notice when he calls you baby, too preoccupied by your rapidly dissipating oxygen. “Hey, look at me,” he soothes, ducking into your line of sight, grabbing your attention. “Good girl, you’re alright.” 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, shrinking in on yourself, curling your shoulders forward. More tears, and the sight of them sends blood rushing through his body, uncomfortable pressure starting to build in his cock. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” The shop is mostly empty, the woman behind him gone, and he takes the opportunity to usher you past the counter and into the kitchen where there’s a stool waiting just inside the door. He guides you up and holds steady. “Everything’s okay, I promise.” The paper towels come free from your tension filled grip, and instead of using them on the stain, he presses them to your wet cheeks, blotting away your tears. You lean into the touch, so trusting, so easily his, and he wonders what else you’d let him do. He’s hard against the teeth of his zipper as he thinks about hoisting you onto the table, spreading your legs to find what you’ve been keeping safe for him there. 

He doesn’t have many things to care for these days, outside the team, his ultimate responsibility. Keeping a special ops unit alive, planning and executing, cutting through political bullshit is more than enough, but it’s all rough and heavy handed. 

He needs something to nurture. 

You blink at him as he finishes and tips your chin back, ignoring the way your lips part in awe. “That’s better.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you breathe in tandem, silenced and walking a tightrope until you cough. “I should uh… I should go, get those rolls packaged?” He nods, and you manage a very small smile before dipping your gaze to the ground and running off to the front. 

“When did you know?” He rolls the cigar smoke around in his mouth and John cocks his head. 

“When did I know what?” 

“That you were ready,” he gestures to the house, where John’s wife Grace sleeps soundly, “for this? For her?” There’s a glint in his Captain’s blue eyes, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“I just did. At some point, life becomes more than the job, but the mission stays the same. Lead, decide, control. Keep them safe, complete your objective, give what’s needed, get it for yourself. It’s no different.” The idea is tar, sticking to every surface in his mind, gumming up his synapses and creating hallucinations so intoxicating they’re hard to believe. 

You, curled up in bed asleep with nothing but a pair of panties, or cradled between his knees in the bath as he works a chunk of batter free from your hair. You with your legs spread, knees pushed towards your ears, pussy ripe and waiting for him, only him, for the rest of his life. Hands and ankles tied together like a pretty little present. You, sitting on the couch with your thighs slung over his lap, nose creased with a little wrinkle as you thumb through a book. 

John chuckles. “Found one then?” 

Simon only nods. 

He slips through the door just before closing, little bell at the top announcing his arrival to an almost empty space. There’s someone at the register, counting cash, and she smiles at him with all her teeth. 

“We’re about to close but there are a few things left, or I could make you a tea?” The case is pretty barren, a few bear claws and croissants, a muffin or two. Stragglers. 

Next to it, a bouquet sits in a vase. They’re fresh, healthy, and the hair on the back of his neck stands. 

If someone is buying you flowers, he’ll kill them. Dump their corpse in a pit and piss on it. 

The girl clears her throat, and he shakes his head. “No, but thanks. ‘M here to see…” you push through the kitchen doors with two metal sheet trays in your hands, and freeze.

He knew you’d be surprised, caught off guard. It’s like catching a feral cat. Trying to earn a street dog’s trust. Like he’s crouched on the sidewalk, hand extended, food waiting in his fingertips. 

A fisherman, with bait on the line, patiently waiting to hook his prize. 

The incident last week has thoroughly spooked you, pushed you back inside your shell, eroded a lot of the groundwork he painstakingly laid, the foundation he’s been building, and the only time he’s been in since then, you ran into the kitchen as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

The clock has turned back to the time when you were so gun shy, you’d turn to stone at the first sight of him, hands clasped together so tight he knew they hurt. 

It’s no matter. He’s a patient man now, a far cry from who he used to be, and he’s willing to wait for the things worth it, willing to put in the work to fix it.

His body disagrees. A river of need runs consistently runs through him, wild and turbulent current thrashing in his blood, white water rapids trying to flood his lungs. His cock is heavy at night as he imagines you bent over the butcher’s block, leggings ripped open, gooseflesh cascading from the small of your back down, empty little hole clenching on nothing, begging for a fullness only he can give. He dreams about your tears, salty sweet drops soaking your cheeks as the crown of his cock bulges in your throat, as he takes your air and gives it back, over and over again. 

Ruin you, rearrange you, remold you until you only ever fit him. 

He’ll give you what you need, he’ll take away what you don’t. 

He’ll decide. 

The girl at the counter looks at you, then him, small smile pulling on her lips. “I’m going to get this deposit ready,” she announces to no one since you’re not paying her any attention, barely registering she’s disappeared as you stare at him. 

“Hi… u-um hi, Captain Riley.” You put the pans down onto the counter but miscalculate the distance, and they clatter with a resounding smack, one that makes you wince. Your chest expands with a long, deep breath, and you look away from him to the floor. “Can I get you something?” 

“No, I’m jus’ here to see you.” You jerk, gaze snapping from the floor to his face. 

“Is th-this about your uniform? Did you get it dry-cleaned? I can pay you back for-” You rush out, half panicked and cut off when his hand fits to the space between your shoulder blades with just enough pressure to move you forward. He leads, steering you to one of the little tables by the window, urging you down into the chair before taking his place on the other side. 

“You’re not paying my bloody dry cleaning bill. I’m here to see you, sweetheart.” You’re vibrating, practically rattling in your skin and he wants so badly to soothe you, tuck you into his chest and push the outside world away, but it would be too much, too soon. You’re not ready. 

“See me?” He nods. 

“Why did you run from me the other day?” 

“I didn’t I was just… I was busy.” He didn't expect the truth, not right away. You're always trying to hide your vulnerable spots. 

“Try again. No lying this time.” There’s about one eighth of his usual authority in his voice, the captain’s edge he’s honed over the years, and your lips part with a sharp, small intake of breath. 

“I thought maybe… I thought you might be upset or something and I didn’t want…” you trail off with a shrug, and he’s not surprised. He knows his reassurances from last week weren’t enough. His sweet girl is afraid of her own shadow, you need more than just a few words and your tears wiped. 

“I’m not upset.” He leans back against the rickety wood. There are a million things he could say, do. A million different pieces he could pick apart right here, right now, peel your layers back and put you on your knees with your cheek on his thigh, his hand patting the top of your head. 

“Daddy’s not mad, sweetheart.” 

You’re watching him, waiting, looking for him to give more, heal this wound, but he’s cautious. A gas pedal to the floor will only get him the kind of chase he doesn’t want. Not yet. “You understand me?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. You’re hesitating on something, holding back, but he doesn’t try to drag it out, choosing to wait, to give you the time you need, the space he knows the rest of the world doesn’t allow. “Did um… did they like them?” He cocks his head. 

“The team?” 

“Mhm,” your leg bounces under the table. You’re so fucking cute he could smother you. 

“Yeah baby, they loved them.” You beam, blooming into a pretty, perfect flower, vibrant and colorful, rare as they come. 

“That’s good, I’m so happy.” You wiggle a little bit in the chair, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Fucking hell. He wants you on his lap instead, wiggling around as he slowly sinks you down onto his cock, fingernails biting into his chest as he stretches your pussy, toes curling as you struggle to take him. “D-do you want to take some home?” 

“You have some left over?” You shrug sheepishly. 

“I’ve uh, been making them every day. I thought if you were mad at me, maybe they would… make it better.” Oh baby.

“No. You never have to appease me like that. You never have to appease anyone like that, sweetheart.” 

“Right. Okay.” You look relieved, a little bit of heaviness lifted from your shoulders, and then you give him a small smile. “But do you want to maybe have one… now? W-with me?” His sweet little fawn, navigating the world on new trembling legs, taking chances when she feels brave. 

He pulls your hand into his and strokes his thumb back and forth across your knuckles, setting up a slow, soothing rhythm. “Of course.” 

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 5)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader, mentions of death/dying, cursing

taglist: @fknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams @babygirl-panda19 @picnicinthegarden @96jnie @xxfaithlynxx @wrimaira @reni502 @lazypostfandomer @augustdxjiminx @hey-airam @vevlvtcherie @marquitas-en-verano @ma-cherie-lovely @zeskyzed @imnikki @shiorihoshino @mentaltrouble2201 @sylustoru @imaginarytheatre @seris-the-amious @zoyadarling @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream @young-adult-summer @iamawkwardandshy @r0ckb1n @openthenyoor01 @malleus-draconias-rose @syyyy4ever @yutterfly @xsammijoanneex @reni502 @animegamerfox @hao-ming-8 @angelicspaceprince @codedove @bxtchopolis @nommingonfood @esylwen @phisen @gojosbedwarmer @rubyninja1 @lemonn015 @cordidy @blueesmiski @yunhogrippers @sleepykittenenergy @thatsbunnysmind @lumi-s-garlic @splaterparty0-0 @soulaandshere @sillyfeeakfanparty (OMG I CAN'T TAG ANYMORE HELP)

note: one last part next. and a big thank you to the love on this series. y'all make me wanna cryyyyy 🥹🥹🥹

Masterlist

Sylus eyes flickered over the screen scanning every area in N109 Zone’s security cameras hoping in one of them he'll see you but for some reasons he can't.

The frustration is slowly creeping to his skin. He doesn't like the obvious fact that you left him with no explanation, that he is too late. That it took him long enough before giving you the assurance that you needed.

But most of all, he didn't like it that he inflicted such an amount of pain on you that you had to leave him quietly.

For every moment that passes without any news of you, Sylus can feel the anxiousness in him double in numbers. He won't stay still. He needs to find you now.

He grabbed his jacket and was about to get his keys when he heard footsteps approaching his directions.

He hoped that it was you. That you decided to finally come back and maybe hear him out. He quickened his steps but when he saw the red link on his wrists glowing, immediate disappointment consumed him.

“Sylus, I kept calling you but I was sent straight to voicemail," she said with a pout.

“MC, now is not a good time. Please take your leave." he coldly said.

It made her frown and he knew that she's not used to him saying no to her. But it had to be done. He didn't define a proper boundary before and now his life is a mess so even if it's late, he will do his best to straighten up his act.

Maybe if he did this the heavens would smile at him and make you go back to him.

“MC? I thought I'm Miss Hunter? Or Kitten? What happened? Did Mephisto throw that away by the window?"

He just stood there unmoving. Hearing her say that is an additional punch to the gut. Sylus didn't hide anything from you including this. And even if he can't control what he feels, he should've taken control of the things he says.

It's not right to call her those pet names when you exists and it must've been hell for you to hear that rolling off his tongue so naturally.

"I said leave.” he finally managed to get a word out of his mouth.

“Why? I thought we were spending time together to establish our connections? For us to get synced when using our evols?” She inquired with an obvious irritation in her face.

If it were before he lost you, he might have laughed and teased her about it and will add a little bit of sass to rile her up more.

But now? All he can think about is how insensitive he is. An asshole even.

No wonder she left.

No. He can't think like that. He needs you back and he will do everything to see you tonight.

Sylus took a deep breath. He can feel his brows twitching. Every second wasted here is a risk for your safety and what if you come back and see her? What would you think?

He doesn't know exactly why you left but he is not stupid to not know that it has something to do with Miss Hunter.

“I don't want to have any connections with you," Sylus answered.

“What do you mean?"

“See this link?" He asked and showed her his wrist.

“Yes. That connects us, right? You, me, grew from the same soil, kindred spirits like you said." She recounted their previous conversations.

“Good. Now I want us to get rid of it. I want you to get rid of it."

Sylus can see the gears in her head turning at every word he says. He knows he's asking for too much. She doesn't even remember cursing him but Sylus is desperate. He needs to find you and he needs this connection to finally be broken.

He can live without half his soul. He's been doing that for a while now, but he cannot live without you.

"Are you out of your mind?” She exclaimed, "I don't even know how we got tied together and now you want me to break it?”

Sylus is losing hope. He doesn't want her to remember. What's the point? It will hurt her, it will make all of this complicated … but he also needs to break free from this curse.

He will make this conversation quick. He needs to get this out of the way.

“Y/N is missing," he said. “She left me and I know it's because of my own stupidity, but it also has something to do with this bond, MC."

“I-I don't understand,"

“I will explain, but not now.” Sylus met her gaze making sure she understands every word he says, "A lot has happened in the past and it had something to do with a curse that binds me to you in every life we live. And you know what's the worst part? We're always doomed. We don't get to be really happy. I always end up dead and you end up killing me … grieving me.”

Recalling it all, it leaves a bitter taste in his tongue. Always cursed to die, to suffer. To love her but always end up dead. It drained him of hope, of joy, of life.

"It made me who I am today because of all those experiences. Living day to day just to wait for the time that I'll die. But that changed here. It changed because of Y/N. I get to experience the things that I thought I was desensitized of. She made me hope that I can break free of this cycle.”

Sylus held her hand. Begging.

“So please, think of it. Help me find a way to break this cycle."

With a single tear and a shaky voice he begged. “Please let me go."

"Let me go!” You screamed and tried to kick Luke and Kieran. "Get off me!”

"No can do, Madame. You need to go home. Boss Man is going crazy looking for you.” Kieran said. "He's flipping the base inside out just to find you.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ah so he does remember I exist? I was so close to being free and you just have to drag me back."

Indeed, you're so close to leaving the N109 Zone. Just one step and you're out of their radar but just before you can run, Mephisto’s blocking your way followed by Luke and Kieran.

“I know you've been having a hard time lately and the boss is really at fault. But come home for now. It's dangerous out here. He has a lot of enemies and they won't hesitate to use you to their advantage.” Luke said. “Plus, he has alerted everyone of his trusted alliances and the whole base to guard every entrance and exit in N109 Zone. Even if you manage to step outside you'll be dragged back home.”

“Fine. I guess I have no choice." All that running and hiding just to come back to base and it's not because you want to, but because you can't. You're sure that the moment you run, Mephisto is already tailing you and alerting everyone. Plus, you can't really outrun a bird.

“If you really want to leave, and you have enough reasons, Boss is not heartless enough to cage you. I know that you know it very well." Kieran said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You didn't give him an answer. You just walked with them to their car and closed your eyes. You can hear the twins updating Sylus that you're with them.

Right … Once you get home, you have no choice but to face the inevitable. You planned to just leave him be and let him live his life with Miss Hunter, but he just has to find you when you don't want to be found.

You're too busy thinking of every possibile thing that you'll say to Sylus and didn't notice the time it took before the car stopped in front of his home. Luke and Kieran left you saying something about giving you privacy. You can't really tell. You're not paying much attention.

Just as you were stepping down from the car, you saw Miss Hunter. Anger bubbled in your chest. You're here being dragged back home with the thought that he's looking for you because he cares but then you're gonna see her here?

You were about to march back to the car when you saw the state that Miss Hunter is in. Her eyes are puffy and red. Looked like she cried. Once she saw you, she avoided your gaze and muttered a brief “I'm sorry," and left.

It was weird. What's happening?

Behind her you saw Sylus running for his life. Immediately, you thought that he's running after her. That's the natural order of things right?

“You're back, you're really back." His hard body slammed yours and you were engulfed in a tight hug. You can feel his erratic heartbeat and his shaking hands that cradle the back of your head.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?"

You looked at him. Your heart is splitting in two.

This is your Sylus. This is the Sylus you loved. The one who only looks at you. The one that loves you.

He's back.

But why now? Why now when you decided that you're done? You tear your gaze away from him.

“Sweetie, please say something." He begged, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him.

“I know I have not been a good boyfriend, but please hear me out, okay?” His voice breaks as he talks to you. You can hear fear, desperation and sadness in them. “I love you, I really do and I'm choosing you. I'm choosing us —”

A hiccup escaped from your lips. Since when did you start sobbing? You didn't know. But your tears are free flowing now. All the hurt that you kept hidden is now out in the open.

“But you left. You left me. You chose her. You always choose her." you said. Like a kid who lost her precious toy, you cried and hit Sylus's chest. “I know everything. You don't have to lie. Sweet Evil Trap, huh? Half of your soul? I know that. I read them in your journal."

“How can you tell me you love me when you have her? You were waiting for her. Not just once but in every lifetime." You sobbed as he pulled you to a hug. He didn't say a word. He just let you pour your heart out.

“All I wanted was one dinner with you. A time for just the two of us, but you're so ready to ditch me because she called. A-and I realized that no matter what you say, that no matter how much you tell me you love me, I can't really compete with her because you don't love me as much as her."

You tried to pull away from him but he just held you closer.

"That's not true, no, no, I love you. No one else. It's just complicated, darling. We have this bond —”

You snapped and pushed him away.

"That stupid bond again! How many times do I have to hear that? How many times do I have to be slapped by the fact that I do not have any connection with you? That you need to discard me as soon as possible to be with your soulmate!?”

He grabbed your wrist when you tried to walk away. “Listen to me first! Yes, there's a bond connecting us but I want it gone! AND IT'S NOT A FUCKING SOULMATE BOND IT'S A CURSE!"

He raised his voice at you and that made you shut up. He never yells at you. This is the first time. And you expect anger to fill his eyes but it's pure sadness and pleading that you give him a chance to tell his truth.

“Sylus,"

“It's a curse, alright? She cursed me to always have my soul tied to her. Yes we did have a past, it was beautifully tragic. She had to kill me. I had her kill me so I could save her. But it gets tiring over time. It gets tiring to always live just to die. I relived that life multiple times and I was not happy anymore.”

You see his tears flowing now. You want to wipe them away but you're stoned in place still trying to process what he said. So when he kissed your hand, you didn't pull away. You saw that it gave him a little relief so you let him continue.

“And then you came. You came and changed everything. For once, I wanted to be happy again. To be selfish again. To live for as long as I can just to be with you. I may have been a fool as of late, but that's the life that I was accustomed to.”

"Once she's here, I know it's a matter of time for me to die and I willingly throw myself in there. Because that's the fate I have to live. And this bond? This energy linkage makes sure that I hurt every time I try to defy my fate. But because of you, for once I have the desire to take control of my life again.”

You cannot stop crying now hearing all of that. He wipes your tears with his thumb and planted kisses on your temple. You mustered the courage to reach for his face and wipe the wetness off his cheeks. He leaned in to your touch savoring every moment.

“I talked to MC, I asked her to help me break the curse she bestowed upon me." He said kissing your palm. “I'm choosing you, sweetie. I'm choosing this life. So please, please let me make it up to you?"

You take a deep breath. You have decided.

"I love you. So, so much,” you gave him a quick kiss. "And thank you for choosing to live your life as your own.”

His hold on your hand tightens, "Baby, please.”

"But I still need to leave.” New waves of tears flowed from the both of you. "I know that you're telling me the truth and you're genuine, but the problem here is not just in your situation with MC but with the conflict on myself as well.”

"Sylus, I'm insecure and I'm having a hard time accepting that you're choosing me. In my head you're saying this because you're guilty. Because you're a good person and you can't bear to see me hurting so you're sacrificing your own happiness just to cater to me.” you said.

“Do you see the point I'm making? I acknowledge your bravery for choosing us, for choosing your happiness, but I also have to make this decision, Sylus. The hurt I felt won't be mended and healed just because you told me all of that. So I need to go away for some time. To heal, and find it in myself to trust you without any speck of doubt. You get me right? If I don't do this, I will just end up hurting you more because I am broken.”

“I need time, Sylus. Time to process and heal. And if by the time we see each other again and you're still feeling the same thing and I am as well, then maybe we'll go from there."

It was hard for Sylus but he knows that you need this. That you both need this. So despite not liking the idea of you leaving and the fear of the possibility that you won't be back, he nods his head. It was his own fault that you're thinking that way. He broke you and mere words are not enough to mend your heart.

He will live his life as his own. He will hope that you will keep him in your heart because he is sure that he won't be able to find anyone to love aside from you.

“I understand, darling." he replied, “I am so sorry for putting you through that, but please know that I love you and if ever you find it in your heart to come back to me, you know where to find me."

That same night, you packed your bags and left the N109 Zone. Sylus took you to Linkon. He remembered looking at your back as you walked away. Your shoulders obviously shaking as you cry.

That night was the night that Sylus felt the loneliest he has ever been. That night, Sylus wished that you'll find happiness and come back to him.

But if you don't?

Then he'll just be content and happy that even for a brief time it felt like he truly lived again.

OMG last part? Hmm Yes, No, Maybe so?

Reactions, reblogs and comments are welcome please let me hear them. Thank youuuu

[angstfactory]

The very truth was, he had spent too long blaming Brook for things beyond his control. Mateo was doing his best to follow his ex-therapist's advice, to let that past go but not forget it. Whatever the hell that meant.

"I don't know, I like saying Dr. Adams," he returned lightly, with a lazy shrug of one shoulder. "You worked hard for the title, you should get to hear it often." However, there was a sense of separation in it, too, that Mateo could hide behind. To keep himself at arm's length from the doctor — not completely, but enough to remind himself that they were not quite as they once were. That he should use caution with his words and actions, and not chase any further whimsical notions.

His eyes stayed downcast. "What makes you think you will thrive and be happy with me here now?" Brook couldn't possibly know, what sort of disruptions Mateo may yet bring. Had already brought, in fact. This luncheon being exhibit a; the man already had to set him straight that there was nothing further to expect here aside from a friendship in repair.

"Stop saying this," Mateo suddenly burst out, hand smacking the top of the table as there was no other way to express that fierce bolt of rejection of everything Brook said of him, before he tempered the outburst, "..please.." He needed this man to stop. He didn't want the platitudes. He couldn't handle the babying nature of it all. There wasn't an extraordinary thing about him, and he especially did not measure up to Brook's author. The more the doctor said it, the less these words carried any weight in Mateo's eyes, and he only came to resent the entire fact they'd been said at all. "I just—" he laughed, quietly, though the sound was humorless and full of stress, his teeth bared briefly while they bit down at his bottom lip and he twisted that napkin to shreds in his lap, "—need you to stop it, okay? You're making me uncomfortable when you say such things I know are not true. Think them silently to yourself, if you must, but say no more to me of it."

His face felt aflame. Embarrassed. For the outburst, and from the discomfort of false praise. Regardless if Brook believed it all true or not! It felt false, to Mateo. He couldn't see past it, and the more his friend went on that way, the further from him he felt.

Even though Brook's touch of him had been brief, Mateo still moved his hand away further, to prevent any future contact. That separation existed now. Touching Brook was off limits, in any manner, and therefore, he didn't wish to be touched either. It wasn't fair on either of them.

"I fear, Dr. Adams, I may prove yet that I'll be more trouble to you than I'm worth," he crumpled the napkin pieces up and left them in the half-eaten bowl of tomato soup, the screech of his chair loud as it scooted back. "I want this to work out, but today has been difficult," the man stood, fixing his glasses and brushing his locks back. The shaking had returned in his hand, an indication his stress levels were quite high— in fact, Mateo was overstimulated and distant, having had enough of the pressure of this reunion. His battery needed to recharge, mind had to reconsider. His plans, his wants; everything had to change.

"And please," he exhaled sharply, looking at Brook, "it's not you, it's me." That classic line, so unintentionally hurtful despite how true it was. "I didn't expect to see you today, and well.. a good part of why I came here has to be rewritten and I need.. to process." He couldn't just stop feeling the way he did. Mateo had already taken so many years to even understand what it was, and now that he knew it, there was nothing he could do with it? It was so exceptionally cruel.

Ah, but of course, again. This wasn't Brook's fault. Such was the theme of Mateo's life.

"Thank you for lunch, Brook, really." Mateo excused himself as quickly as he could, so eager to get out of there he'd mistaken on ways they should keep in touch from here.

There was a part of Brook that sat there looking at Mateo and thinking about the life they could have had. How different would things have been if Brook hadn't found himself in Mateo's house that night back when he was 17? There would never been this seemingly insurmountable thing between them; this wouldn't feel so impossible. Hell, they might be together now, might have been together for years, and this same part of Brook thought that maybe they could still have that. Couldn't they get past that? But Brook didn't want to ruin the tenuous friendship he had with Mateo, and no matter what the other man said, he would never feel worthy of him. That life he was imagining, it belonged to another version of them, one that in a universe where one terrible night hadn't ruined their chance. Maybe one day Brook and Mateo would find their way back to each other - Brook would never rule that out, not with his oldest friend, not when they were sitting here together after everything they'd gone through - but he couldn't bring himself to say that to Mateo.

Prepared for Mateo to cast him away again (and knowing he would deserve it), Brook was instead shocked by when Mateo said he didn't hate him. "You don't?" he asked, eyes wide. "You should, and not just for this." For a moment, there was just silence between them, and then finally Brook said, "For the record, I'm glad you don't. Also...it's weird hearing you call me Dr. Adams." He laughed as he said this, though it was a cautious, uncertain sort of laugh, not knowing where they stood still. "I don't think I'll be fine if you leave, you're wrong about that. Just managing to survive is not the same as being happy and thriving you know." Yeah, Brook would keep going without Mateo, but he didn't know how he would go back to existing without him again.

"He...he's definitely extraordinary," Brook confirmed slowly, not sure how much was too much right now to tell Mateo. "But Mat, you are too. I've always thought that. And now you've proven it again by dropping everything and moving across the country in pursuit of love. Do you have any idea how brave that is? I ran away, but you were running toward something." Maybe it hadn't worked out, but it didn't diminish what Mateo had done and how much courage it had shown.

Again Mateo surprised Brook, whose eyes widened even more. "You're staying?" he asked, astonished. This was not at all what he had expected. "Are you serious?" He broke into a wide smile, and Brook grabbed Mateo's hand, just briefly to squeeze it appreciatively, letting go a second later so as not to make his friend uncomfortable. "I know things might be challenging at first, and we'll have to figure out this new dynamic," Brook reasoned, "but we can get there. We've gone through a lot worse, both separately and together. I just...really need you in my life, Mat."

[deusfoundry]

part 2 here!

girl dad!zayne who simply smiles when his daughter knocks on the door of his office one night. she lets herself in, a deep crease present on her forehead, fingers wrung together. he can tell the moment she entered that something's bothering her, so he shuts his laptop off in favor of giving his daughter his undivided attention.

"what's wrong?" he asks with an encouraging smile on his lips.

girl dad!zayne who puts on a nice front when she tells him that a boy is coming over tomorrow night for dinner. he almost says "no.", mouth opening to reject the very prospect of boys. "you're too young to be dating." he very nearly says, if not for the quiet "please." that stops him in his tracks.

suddenly, he's taken back to a whole decade ago.

suddenly, his little girl has just turned seven years old.

suddenly, she's pleading with the widest doe eyes he's ever seen for him to get her the slice of carrot cake displayed on the counter of a bakery.

damn it, he thinks. those eyes are the bane of his existence. not once has he been able to resist them. curse you and your genes for passing those godforsaken eyes to your little girl.

so he smiles. he pulls his daughter into a warm, comforting hug.

"of course." he says, trying not to sound like he's forcing the words through gritted teeth. "i'm not mad at all, sweetheart."

"really?"

zayne merely hums, and when she squeals in delight, jumping up to plant a small kiss to his cheek between an onslaught of thank you's and i love you's, he almost forgets that he just agreed to having some boy over in his house.

girl dad!zayne who huffs when you press a kiss against his lips to stop him in the middle of his rant. he's spent the last half hour citing complaints about his daughter. how boys her age are stupid and none of them could even dream of treating her the way she deserves to be treated.

"when did she even get old enough to start talking to boys?" he manages to insert between exasperated claims every five minutes.

"it's part of being a teenage girl, love." you pull yourself away from his lips, lazily moving around to straddle his thighs. "let her be."

"and you're not the least bit concerned?" his breath hitches against his throat when you start to slowly trail kisses around his neck. he doesn't hear your response to his question, mind clouded with the feeling of your lips drawing stars on his skin.

his girls are truly going to be the death of him.

girl dad!zayne who purposely lingers near the front door so he can beat his daughter to opening it. he hears the doorbell ring and the subsequent thundering of her footsteps from upstairs, but he's already opened the door before she can even rush down the stairs.

girl dad!zayne who relishes in watching the way this boy's face falls. he's secretly glad that his career is as remarkable as it has been at this very moment, because he sees exactly when it dawns on the boy who exactly is standing before him.

the father of the girl he likes is the doctor zayne. world-renowned cardiac surgeon doctor zayne.

the boy splutters. he unfolds into a stuttering mess right in front of zayne and he has to resist the urge to slam the door on his face.

if doing so didn't end in him being in the receiving end of your sermons, he never would've opened the door in the first place.

girl dad!zayne who’s overtaken by surprise for a quick second when the boy finally collects himself.

“thank you for letting me join you tonight, sir. it's really an honor.” he says his name. zayne's impassive expression doesn't deter the boy as he holds his hand out.

zayne reluctantly takes it. he's about to settle on just giving him a subtle shake when the boy himself takes initiative, shaking zayne's hand with just the right amount of enthusiasm.

"this is for you and your wife." he hands over the basket that's been sitting beside his feet. zayne eyes it with his arms crossed over chest.

the basket is decorated with a ribbon tied into a neat bow. it comes in his daughter's favorite color, an oddly specific shade of pastel blue that she's been obsessed with since she was five. the inside is parted down the middle, one side filled with fruits and food that you like. the other half is, very obviously, for him.

it's packed to the brim with a whole assortment of sweets. a variety of cake slices from a bakery at the other side of the town he's been meaning to visit. packs of candies he likes. his favorite pastries from the bakery near the hospital.

zayne is ... delighted. but he refuses to let the boy know he's slowly winning him over so he quietly takes the basket in his hands and lets him in.

"dinner will be ready shortly." he says before disappearing into the kitchen.

zayne catches his daughter with a small bouquet of her favorite flowers in her hand.

girl dad!zayne who intends to stay quiet over dinner, but is forced to make small talk when you kick him under the table.

"be nice." you remain silent as you smile at the young boy sitting beside your daughter, but he knows that's what you mean with the threatening glare you send him.

"so," zayne purposely says his name wrong as he clears his throat. "what do you do for fun?"

he sees you shake your head from the corner of his eye.

girl dad!zayne who still isn't entirely convinced that this boy deserves to be with his daughter, the literal light of his life, his little girl, but relents a little as the hours go by.

zayne remembers telling his daughter time and time again to never settle. that he himself would pluck the night skies free of stars if you so much as imply that it's what you want. that she should look for the love you share with him, unconditional and boundless.

and as zayne watches with a keen eye how he treats her, he thinks he's done a good job at instilling those beliefs.

he's attentive to her needs, handing the bowls of food that's way out of her reach. he places a small portion of vegetables on her plate and successfully coaxes her into eating them, something even zayne struggles with. he's quick to cover the edge of the table with his hand when she leans down to pick up the fallen spoon from beneath the table.

girl dad!zayne who ends the night standing behind his daughter on their porch as she waves him goodbye.

"drive home safely." zayne says, uttering his name correctly as a sign of respect.

he doesn't miss the way his daughter's face lights up. and if accepting someone new in their small family lets him see that smile more, zayne thinks it's all worth it.

this has been in my drafts since the i made that girl dad!zayne post a few weeks backdhejhd

divider from @cafekitsune

[ellynneversweet]

Re: maths, buttresses (flying or otherwise) aren’t always the result of mistaken earlier maths — sometimes they’re the result of very correct maths and limited materials. The forces that make a wall want to be on the ground and not up in the air have to go somewhere, and the Old Kingdom doesn’t, as far as we know, have steel girders for internal bracing. The House is four or five stories tall, if we count the double-height ground floor hall as two stories (the observatory is extremely magical so it’s questionable how much it counts) with rooftop gardens, which adds at least some weight, and very little by way of internal load bearing walls (the hall takes up most of the ground floor. Maybe the internal kitchen wall is load bearing). And it’s got extensive cellars that you don’t want the House to collapse into.

So, in my not-an-architect mind, we have options for 1. very thick external walls that are basically their own buttress (pros: stable, consistent temperatures, noise reducing; cons: one very large window on the ground floor, lots of windows on the higher levels which may or may not be magically load bearing) 2. regular buttresses (pros: more space in a reasonably small estate; cons: they’re not that interesting to look at although they can be made so) 3. flying buttresses (pros: they look cool and gothic which fits a necromantic family; cons: they take up lots of space) 4. the Wallmakers were fully capable of building very tall structures using something similar to modern architectural methods and the House has a lot of hidden steel bars because when you get down to it they’re basically really big blunt swords and the Wallmakers were both very good at making swords and (probably) magically capable miners (see: Clariel’s free magic servants, the Belismouth chain) (pros: it’s stable; cons: doesn’t fit the aesthetic) 5. the Wallmakers did something extremely fucky with magic in the same way they made an island at the top of a waterfall that isn’t in danger of eroding away after two thousand odd years. Turned some sheets of very hard stone sideways in the earth or something and made the House out of huge slabs of stone and what appears to be normal architecture is just facing (pros: cool as fuck; cons: why face your magic monoliths with whitewashed brick? It could have looked like Petra) 6. They did something boring with magic and said ‘just stay up’ to some ordinary double brick (no pros here). 7. Astarael is creeping around the crawl spaces repairing any listing walls. Or, since that’s probably beneath her dignity, her very presence arrests the effects of time on certain things as the plot and her will require.

Re: aesthetics, the Wall itself is crenellated despite there being zero evidence that it was ever manned from above, or even that a way up exists, so the Wallmakers might have just liked the look of that kind of decor. And speaking of, how far down does the Wall go?

Re: domes, I like the idea of a lot of the older stuff in the Old Kingdom having a late antiquity/eastern Roman Empire vibe (location dependent) to make it a degree visually distinct from the Interregnum architecture, which I always picture as looking straight out of the Dung Ages because a lot of knowledge of how to repair or rebuild has been lost, and there are less charter mages about to do big peacetime projects.

Poor Sabriel, whose worst subject is canonically maths, would probably make an attempt at following along with whatever engineering enthusiasm has taken her husband and son by force, but really she’s very busy and there are people much better suited than her to deal with building specs and anyway the Sendings appear to have had it all in hand for centuries so it’s fine, so she’d presumably have tuned out halfway through and started mentally reviewing her to-do list until one of them went ‘what if we try digging?’ and an alarm bell rang in her head.

(I have a further opinion that Touchstone is probably a much better sailor than his ‘I’m reasonably confident of my sailing’ self assessment lets on, and recreational sailing was probably a big part of his childhood, as borne out by growing up in a port city, sailing up the coast mostly-single handed, and Holehallow being port-themed. Something is going on with the royal family and ships, and sailors, like architects, are very big on correctly calculating structural forces.)

(Speaking of Holehallow I’m also curious about why the funeral boats had such shallow drafts that a person could, in theory, kiss a figurehead from ground level. Why that kind of boat? That sounds like a river or raiding ship to me. Certainly not big warships.)

(The Doylist answer is that Touchstone was already having a bad enough day without a several metre fall in the course of being rescued, but still. I mean, he didn’t have enough situational awareness or muscle control to tense up so he probably would have been okay, but still. I have a vision of Sabriel hauling herself up a stepladder and going ‘well done me…oh, shit’ as her future love interest comes magically unstuck and simply plummets towards the cobblestones.)

How to make a building say ‘old’ in your fantasy universe: buttresses.

How to make a building say ‘old’ and also ‘cool as fuck’ and also ‘home office of someone extremely important and stylish’ in your fantasy universe: flying buttresses.

[theorphicangel]

𝐃𝐞𝐛í 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐫 𝐦á𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐯𝐞

pairing : sukuna x gn!reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: no synopsis because i feel like the title speaks for itself, enjoy.

tags: @sterzin @strachomir @moonlitwitchdaisy @baepsays

cw: angst, angst and more angst, ex bf! sukuna hates himself and self sabotages himself, modern au, sukuna is jin's twin brother and yuji's uncle, unckuna stans rise!!!!

Sukuna should have taken more photos of you. 

It’s a realisation that hits him when he’s scrolling through his feed, watching everyone and their fucking mother share the best moments from the past year. He grimaces to himself, evaluating over the past year and deciding it was completely shit. 

Nonetheless, he would never do some sentimental shit like that. It’s not his character and never will be. 

But instead, he wishes he had more photos of you. Not for others to see, only him. And maybe for his nephew Yuji when he asks. 

He won’t shut up about you everytime Sukuna visits and it takes everything within Sukuna to not break down right there and then. Instead he goes to take a breather, ignoring the heavy drop in his stomach at the mention of your name.

But Jin can tell he’s not doing well just by Sukuna’s frown and fidgeting hands. He overhears Sukuna telling Yuji an excuse about how busy you are. Last week was the excuse that you were out of town visiting your parents in the south. Now, he wonders how creative his excuse will be next week. Maybe you’re in another country entirely. 

No. Sukuna wouldn’t wish that. Ever. 

‘You do realise you’ll have to tell him someday?’ Jin murmurs. The kitchen is quiet, safe for the metal cutlery Sukuna is putting away whilst his brother cleans up. His hands are soapy and the water swishes side to side in the sink, threatening to spill but Jin never lets it happen. 

The dimmed lighting and the past scent of dinner remains, creating a soft glow over the Itadori brothers. Yuji’s already tucked into bed, an early bedtime for school tomorrow and Sukuna promised to drop him off the next morning.  But this current moment is slow and private — one of the rare times where Sukuna doesn’t have to put on an act for Yuji and pretend nothing has happened.

Sukuna hates his twin brother for many things like having shit taste in ice cream flavour but if he had to pick one thing, and one thing only to be mad about, it would be the fact that he knows him so well. 

(too well.)

Jin’s ability to read his mind without a word ever having to leave Sukuna’s mouth has existed since they were kids. 

Some might say it’s twin telepathy but Sukuna doesn’t believe in that shit.  There was this one instance where a kid had pushed over another kid in the playground, leaving the boy to cry away in the corner, too afraid to tell the teachers who had done it. Nothing needed to be said but Jin had a suspicious feeling as to who was responsible. 

‘You pushed him over Sukuna I know you did.’

‘You didn’t see me!’

‘But I can tell, by your face.’

Sukuna’s face frowns heavily, chubby cheeks turning red. He doesn’t reply. 

‘Own up to it, it’s the right thing to do.’ Jin murmurs. He isn’t angry but his voice is soft, which further frustrates Sukuna. He knows Jin never gets angry, no matter what. Even when he broke his favourite toy the other day. 

‘I didn’t do it.’

‘I know you did. You can’t lie to me.’

‘Or what?’ sukuna spat. 

‘Or I tell everyone you still wet the bed at the age of six and you know they’ll believe me because you’re my brother.’

Brother. 

Sukuna growls under his breath, kicking the gravel of the playground. Some kind of brother if you threaten your own twin by humiliation. To say the least Sukuna got his punishment: a letter written home to his dad and he was grounded for a week. 

Even now in the small kitchen where Yuji’s drawings hang on the fridge Sukuna feels the pressure from his twin. Jin’s always been the mature one out of the two. He always knows what to say, the right things to say in fact, which is what scares Sukuna the most. 

The atmosphere is still calm and quiet, so much so Sukuna can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, waiting for the words to leave from his brother’s lips. Another pause lingers over them, Sukuna now moving on to dry the plates before Jin finally speaks.

‘You have to tell him.’

There it is. 

Sukuna lets out a deep hum immediately knowing that he’s referring to Yuji. Jin lets out a sigh before continuing. He rinses off his soapy hands before drying them with a cloth.

‘You’ll run out of excuses one day and you will have to explain that they left. Not necessarily why, but let him know that…it’s the least you can do.’

Sukuna doesn’t look up, suddenly intrigued by drying the plates. They gleam under the light with the soap washing dish fragrant lingering on the fine china. 

Sukuna doesn’t speak for the next two minutes, letting his mind ponder over what to say next. Again, it’s the privacy and comfort of his brother’s home that allows Sukuna to be vulnerable. Within these four walls, no one else but Jin can see the true character of Sukuna. Outside of these walls, you were close to figuring him out too. 

‘I don’t wanna hurt him.’ Sukuna’s voice is soft, barely echoing within the walls of the kitchen. For the first time in what seems like forever, Sukuna’s soul is left bare and vulnerable. He feels pathetic and he knows he’s kidding himself  by making up excuses to Yuji. Perhaps it’s denial that you’ve left or the childish belief that if he keeps telling these lies then one of these days you will actually come back and prove him wrong. 

(you always did.)

‘You’re hurting him by not telling him.’ Jin speaks. There’s caution in his voice despite the softness. ‘The more you keep it away from him the more he’ll catch on. Yuji’s a smart kid, he’ll figure it out one way or another but he won’t necessarily catch onto the whole truth.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sukuna croaks. He finally looks at his brother, his stomach churning with anxiety as Jin’s words digest in his head.

‘I mean, if you don’t tell him the truth, Yuji will think that maybe they don’t want to see him anymore and that will hurt him more than your excuses.’

Sukuna’s shoulders drop. Once again, his brother was right. 

Jin’s words from their childhood rings in Sukuna’s mind. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’

He wants it all to stop. To take back time and reverse it, to reset everything that he’s done. All he seems to do is hurt people. First you and now Yuji, all his life he seems to cause nothing but pain; nothing he seems to do is right. 

‘You need to tell him Sukuna. Tomorrow.’ Jin warns, his glasses resting against the bridge of his nose. ‘It’ll break him by not telling him and it breaks you even more by keeping the truth from him. I can see it in your eyes everytime their name is mentioned, you might not think anyone notices but I do… and Yuji will realise it too one day.’

Sukuna says nothing more, hoping that the silence suddenly awakens and swallows him up whole. He continues to hope this as he finishes tidying away the dishes and it follows him as he slips on his shoes and leaves Jin’s house, the overwhelming sense of dread becoming his personal shadow in the winter cold on the way back to his own apartment. 

It fills every waking moment of his mind even as he lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep with Jin’s words echoing in his head. As a distraction he picks his phone up from the bedside table, heading straight to his photos app. 

There it is.

The album is titled with your name. It’s a whole collection of you. And only you. If he was ever in the photos he’d make sure to crop himself out, making you the highlight. 

He finds the first photo, right at the top of his camera roll. You had taken the photo accidentally when he gave you his phone to exchange numbers. 

The first time he met you. You were evidently nervous and barely able to make eye contact with a guy like him. Sukuna admits his persona is scary to those who don’t know him as well viewing his resting face as frustration or anger. You grew to learn that it was just him simply being…him. He scrolls. 

The first date he ever took you on. yeah, it wasn’t the best restaurant in the whole city but the dessert you ate that night soon became your all time favourite. Sukuna hasn’t been able to eat there again since you left him. He scrolls. 

The first time you had argued. It was petty, the reasoning behind that disagreement was something that he can’t even remember. It was miniscule but nonetheless he had snapped at you and you regressed, giving him nothing but silence in return. Since then you made clear boundaries with him and he didn’t raise his voice at you again. The photo is blurry, accidentally taken but your face can still be seen. You’re upset and he doesn’t like that but it’s a reminder for him to do better. Or at least it was. This would be just one of the many times that he’s made you feel that way.  He scrolls. 

There’s more as he scrolls. The two of you at an arcade… you in his car on a late night drive…the two of you getting drunk on your couch like losers… you cooking for him when he was ill… and Sukuna hesitates on a specific photo of and a pic of you and yuji. From the first day that you met him and Jin. You held a book in your lap with Yuji by your side, Sukuna kept smirking on how Yuji kept looking at you rather than the story. 

He continues to scroll. 

Your first time at the beach together. The way his eyes kept glancing at you in your swimwear, a light blush appearing across his cheeks. There’s multiple photos from that day: ones where the sun highlights your smile, making your skin glow. There’s more ones where you’re not looking deeply invested in building the perfect sandcastle. Photos of you getting ice cream on your nose, sand all over your hands with sun kissed lips. Lips that he kissed again. 

The first time you slept over, your body next to his. Your eyes are closed, mouth agape as you snore away on his chest. He remembers that night more vividly than any other night, the way that your soft body fits perfectly against his own. Sukuna never thought he’d let anyone within his proximity let alone sleep on his chest. The next morning he remembers you having marks on your cheeks, evidence that you had a good night’s sleep. Sukuna also remembers sleeping really well that night, for the first time in forever. 

Sukuna also took a video of you sleeping, originally taken just to make fun of your snoring. You begged him to delete it but the video of that is still on his phone, along with the hundreds of photos of you in his camera roll that he hasn’t bothered to delete. Yet. ( or ever)

He should have taken more photos of you. 

But even more than that, he should have kissed you and hugged you more. Sure Sukuna wasn’t the pda type but even so, you shouldn’t have to beg for his attention or private affection. There were times he pulled away or hesitated on showing you any type of physical affection. He hesitated with those three little words, he was terrible at picking out gifts and he sometimes forgot to reply to your texts and calls but he still tried. 

It was a conflicting issue. You tried to get him to open up and be comfortable with you, taking small steps with him. And over time you were close, so, so, so close to witnessing that vulnerable side of him…until he pushed you away. Like he does with everyone else in his life when he feels scared. When he feels out of control. You were affecting him in ways he couldn’t explain. If he wasn’t with you then he was constantly thinking of you; anxiety taking over his body at the thought of messing up or making you upset. Things were good. Too good to be true or to last long enough for Sukuna.  

Something was inevitably going to go wrong. 

Sukuna just made it happen prematurely. 

Sukuna ends up scrolling to the last photo he ever took of you. He thinks about the last night that you stayed over and the last photo he ever took of you. Right before everything went to shit and he pushed you away. It was a quiet night in, he had you laid across his chest with your favourite show playing in the background, he doesn’t ever remember you finishing the episode. You fell asleep halfway through, breaking your promise in finishing the second season. 

Sukuna studies you, eyes squinting. You snore lightly on his chest, your lips parted. Your face was peaceful and the happiest he’d ever seen you despite being asleep.

 What kind of person did that make him? Taking that happiness away from you? He was meant to grow old with you for fuck’s sake. You were the only person he had pictured by his side in the future, save for Jin and Yuji of course. This was so foreign to Sukuna like he was a tourist to his own feelings, unable to comprehend what was happening. And because of that he got scared and fucked it up. Like a coward.

(That was one of the words you spat at him. He couldn’t be mad at you because it was true.)

Glancing at you in his arms, he positions the phone by your face, careful not to awaken you as he takes a picture. ‘Cute’ he thinks, ‘so fucking cute.’ His chest fills with a warmth that only you have made familiar to him. But almost immediately, the fear returns again. 

 How long until his life begins to fall apart again? Before he fucks up again or before the universe decides to take you away from him? That anticipation wasn’t something that he could live with. It’s selfish but he can’t do it. Everything seems to be too good, life suddenly treating him well. But does he deserve it? Does he deserve you? He keeps his thoughts to himself, instead taking the next two days to distance himself from you which makes things worse, sparking an argument where he says things he won’t be able to take back. 

Now he lays alone. 

Made to rest with regrets he’ll have for the rest of his life. He reaches the end of the album, the last photo being you sleeping on his chest. He only took one. Never the sentimental type he told himself but now he thinks those are the photos he’ll look back on when he’s old and alone, drowning in his vast sea of regret. (Maybe he’ll turn out like his dad after all.) 

Yeah….

Sukuna should have taken more photos of you.

thank you so much for reading! comments and reblogs are much appreciated <333

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[jamminvroomvroom]

busy.

ln x fem!reader

in which there’s a whole club of people waiting to celebrate the race winner, but he’s a bit busy…

hehehehe i’ve been cooking this one up since he won!! obsessed with this, it’s really not my best work in terms of literary masterpieces, but…. it’s horny self indulgence. enjoy, lemme know what you think, love you!!!

songs to set the mood: the alchemy by taylor swift, agora hills by doja cat, so high school by taylor swift, starboy by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni i am so serious! this is just. porn without plot (with a lil plot) like this is peak feral needy lando, dom!lando, oral (f&m receiving), spanking, accidental voyeurism?, max verstappen, dry humping, unprotected sex (don’t do that!), touch of fluff as well, established relationship, crying, overstimulation

3.8k words

tears well in your eyes, the blurry screen telling you absolutely nothing, but it doesn’t matter anymore. he’s done it. the screams engulfing the garage seem to rattle all around you, the vibrations pushing your elation up another notch.

lando norris, formula 1 race winner.

your lando.

his voice floods your ears, so loud that the headphones seem to quiver as he screeches. a few tears roll thick down your face when he thanks his mum and dad, dedicates the win to his grandma, but then he says your name and you forget how to breathe.

“i’m nothing without you, baby.” his voice breaks, and your body is wracked with sobs.

various arms are slung over your shoulder, members of the team guiding you out of the garage and into parc ferme. the metal barrier digs into your ribs as you lean against it, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. his car rolls into position, the p1 marker sending another wave of emotion through you, and when he pulls himself out, he stands tall, proud, points to the sky.

you fall in love with him all over again.

he’s slapped on the back and passed around by the drivers but when he sets his sights on the sea of orange, nothing else exists. he’s flying over your head before you can even register it, elevated by the team and you watch him in awe. when he sees you, eyes locking with yours, a heart-melting, pantie-dropping grin spreads across his face and you can see the redness lining his eyes.

i love you he mouthes.

he’s lowered to the ground, spinning round to face you immediately. he tugs you as close as he can, the barrier definitely leaving it’s mark on both of you, and kisses you messily. all of the energy that he has left, all that he can muster, is put into the kiss, leaving you breathless, tugging on the fabric of his race suit like you’ll die if he gets taken away.

“‘m so proud of you.” you whisper against his lips, shivering as his thumbs graze your cheekbones.

“i love you so fucking much.” he beams, teeth clashing with yours when he kisses you with a smile.

“go get that trophy, mr norris.” you coo, and he winks, pressing his lips to your forehead. then, he’s gone.

champagne vapour leaves your skin sticky.

-

“lando, we gotta go.” you breathe, head rolling back to give him even more access to your strained neck, resting against the door of your shared hotel room.

you’re draped in orange satin, obviously, the short dress clinging to you deliciously, the one you always pack just in case. lando had been trying to convince you to stay in and let him have his way with you, and the second he walked out of the bathroom, still dripping from his shower, there was no way the pair of you were heading anywhere in a hurry.

“says who?” he grunts, his hips digging into yours.

“there’s a whole club waiting to celebrate with you-“

“the only person i want to celebrate with is you.” he punctuates his words with a harsh nip of his teeth.

“lando.” you whine in protest, not because you actually want him to stop, but because you don’t want to deprive him of a night out with his friends.

“try and convince me to go one more time, and i’ll edge you until you fucking cry.” he licks up your neck, tugging you from against the door, and guides you towards the bed. “and when you’re begging for me to make you cum, i’ll get you dressed up all pretty and we’ll go to the club with you dripping down your thighs.”

your lips quivers, caught between your teeth at his promise. you know he means it. his eyes darken when you nod quickening your pace until you’re stood at the foot of the bed. he’d only made it as far as putting his jeans on, so you rake your nails down his chest, watching as the tanned skin pales as you dig your fingertips in.

you teeter on your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him but he pulls back, smirking, holding you at arms length while he wiggles his jeans off and clambers onto the bed. you pout, watching him position himself up against the headboard, curling two fingers that beckon you forwards. you kick off your heels, crawling up the bed until you sit pretty on his lap, your dress riding up your thighs as you straddle him, leaving the lace of your panties flush against the cotton of his underwear.

you lean in to kiss him, but his fingers catch your chin, holding you back. you whine at the way he restrains you for a second time, wanting nothing more to melt into his frame while you lick into his mouth. he tuts, damp curls falling over his forehead.

“five minutes ago you wanted to go out.” lando tilts his head accusingly, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“changed my mind.” you hum, attempting to roll your hips. he slaps your thigh, light enough that it doesn’t hurt, hard enough that you sink into submission.

“you’re gonna have to prove that to me.” he sighs, feigning sympathy. you’re pulsing against him, and he can feel the damp heat of your cunt. “you’re gonna grind your little pussy on me until i can see how wet you are. gotta convince me, baby.” he grins at you, flashing his teeth. your jaw goes slack.

“lan.” you moan, eyes widening at his instruction.

“show me how bad you wanna congratulate me.” lando’s voice drops an octave, gravelly and direct, sending bolts of lightning down your spine.

you rock your hips over his bulge, slowly at first, tentative for the first couple of glides. you can feel how hard he is, your clit bumping the thick head of his cock as you grind down on him. your wetness begins to seep through the skimpy lace as you pick up the pace, revelling in the friction, the fire that you’ve lit between your two bodies.

lando makes no effort to help you, not at first, watching smugly as you slick him up. he can feel your warmth washing over him, the way you struggle to keep going as the pleasure builds. he focuses his eyes on the splotch growing on his crotch, honing in on the way your folds are slipping out of your quite frankly useless underwear. his lip catches between his teeth, pupils blown wide. his self restraint completely dissolves, one hand tangling in your hair, slotting his lips over yours, while his other flies to your waist forcing your hips backwards and forwards.

“wanna get my tongue on you, taste the mess you’ve made.” he mumbles against your lips. your thighs clench around his waist, rutting frantically on his lap. “‘n then i’m gonna get my fingers inside of you. it’ll be so easy, won’t it? can feel you dripping already. messy girl.”

“please.” you rasp. “lando, i need you.” you’re pleading, pushing his curls back and tugging hard at the chocolate strands.

“oh, honey,” he starts, flipping you onto your back. you gasp, smoothing your hands over the slope of his back, your nails raking between his shoulder blades. “i’m gonna have you exactly how i want you.”

he doesn’t have to work too hard to get you naked, peeling sodden lace down your thighs and shoving the satin of your dress over your tits, off of your frame. it cascades onto the floor, wrinkled in a heap, but you couldn’t possibly care less, not when he’s snaking down your body on a mission. his tongue drags over your clavicle, over the curve of your breast, stopping briefly to tease your nipple. he scrapes his teeth over the bud, continuing his trail over your abdomen, the plush skin of your belly.

“say please.” lando taunts, staring up at you through thick lashes. he rests his head against your hip bone, raising an eyebrow. you’re shaking already, in no mood to play games. if this is what he wants, you can’t deny him. he’s your race winner.

“please, baby. want your tongue on me.” you pant, softening your eyes in sheer desperation.

“where?” he coos, punctuating his borderline cruel question with soft kisses over your navel.

you smile coyly, keeping eye contact as your fingers dart between your spread thighs. you dip into your folds, splaying them open for him, tracing your clit a few times. you’re utterly soaked, impressed almost.

“right here.” you’re blushing, but you know just how he likes it, and your tactics are proven right when he groans, guttural and feral, pinning your thighs to the mattress.

your head thuds against the pillows at the sensation of the first swipe, his tongue dragging from your opening to your swollen clit. his face is submerged between your thighs, you can’t see him anymore, but you can certainly feel him. you can feel the slow glide of his tongue, tasting every little drop of you, can feel the vibration when he hums out in pure bliss.

it makes your head spin, the way most guys would expect you to drop to your knees, but lando gets his kicks on his, lost between your thighs. your eyes roll back every time he burrows himself deeper, slurping obscenely where you’re dripping.

“lando!” you grit your teeth, nearing the edge, and it spurs him on, two fingers running up the crease of your thigh, lathering through your wetness.

the digits glide inside of you seamlessly, casting an echo of noise that makes you blush. he groans against your clit - you’re utterly soaked - sending a buzz shooting up your spine.

“oh, baby.” he slurs, enticed, rutting against the mattress. you’re in an absolute state, and it’s all his fault.

two fingers curl, your feet kick out uncontrollably, and he laughs, laughs, into your cunt. you can’t help yourself, barrelling towards your release, unable to resist the rush of white hot pleasure. he fucks his fingers into you even faster, you scream, throat going raw as he scissors in and out of you. your foot finds his shoulder, trying to kick him away, teetering dangerously close to the brink of overstimulation. he doesn’t let it phase him, aside from the furrowing of his brows in annoyance, slinging your leg over his shoulder and splitting you open.

“my- oh god.” you choke, spasming up the mattress. he’s not even thrusting his fingers anymore, instead he’s grinding them against that one special spot, sucking hard at your clit.

you cum again, limp on the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. you’re slurring his name, babbling incoherently when he pulls off of you, sitting back on his knees. he looks proud of himself, too proud, smirking at your lifeless body. you feel like you’re part of the mattress, so sunken into it and exhausted. he’s covered in you, lips swollen maroon, fingers coated. every part of him that has touched you seems to shine in the dim light. his curls have dried now, fluffy and untamed, falling over his greying eyes.

“taste better than champagne.” he whispers, falling onto his forearms and caging you in.

your skin litters with goosebumps, his bare chest against yours, and you crane your head, lazily kissing him. you can taste yourself on his lips, mouthing down his jaw until you reach the sensitive skin below his ear. you scrape your teeth down his jugular, slow, sinking in softly to the bulk of his shoulder. he falters, shivering, collapsing his entire body weight onto you.

plump lips suck purple splotches onto the base of his neck, where no one will see.

you want him to lose control, ram into you and fuck you like he’ll die if he doesn’t, so you continue to tease, misbehave as you rake your teeth over his bronzed skin. his eyes are shut, thick lashes dusting his cheekbones as he succumbs to your torture. your hand skims his belly, muscles pulled taut under your fingertips, and you find the band of his boxers, dipping under the fabric. he registers your touch, and something within him snaps, his eyes flying open. he rolls off of you, finding his feet as he moves from the bed to the mini fridge.

“on your knees.” he grins at you, beckoning you to the carpeted floor.

you’re dazed, staring at the green bottle in his hands. condensation runs down the thick glass of the champagne bottle and you blank, utterly perplexed by what he’s about to do, your thighs involuntarily clenching. lando’s impatient, tutting as his hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you down the bed towards him. you’re shocked back to reality by his brazenness, scrambling from the mattress. you fall to your knees, licking your lips in anticipation, watching him through gleaming doe eyes. he softens, captivated by how ready you are for him, but it’s short-lived and the smirk returns.

“go on, baby. you know what to do.” lando strokes your cheek soothingly. your fingers curl into his waistband once again, and this time he lets you drag his boxers down. his cock springs free, hard and weeping, and your mouth fills with saliva, urgently taking him into your hand. “open wide.”

you look up at him just in time, watching how he raises the champagne bottle. he shakes it, once, twice, and your jaw drops as he pops the bottle. the liquid sprays, frothy and golden, dripping down your chest, over your tits, down your belly. you’re sticky, stickier, watching him in awe as the liquid pools around your knees. you notice how he’s glistening, the spray catching his abs, dripping south.

the noise he makes is carnal, a sigh of relief sounding when you lick over his hip bone, tracing your tongue over his pelvis until you reach the base of his cock. his hips stutter when you take him between your lips, the tip hitting the back of your throat as he immediately gives in to the warmth of your wet mouth. one of his hands works through your hair, bobbing you backwards and forwards, the other clasping tight around the neck of the bottle. he raises it to his parted lips, tipping his head back as he does, the liquid falling into his mouth. your eyes trace the curve of his neck, the swell of his lips, the way his knuckles have turned white contrasting the green glass. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were dripping onto the carpet.

“look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” lando grins dopily, his nails scratching over your scalp. the moan that emits, low and needy from the back of your throat, makes him shudder. “enough now.” he pulls you off of him, but he leaves you on your knees.

the hand in your hair travels to cup your jaw, his thumb flush against your reddened lips. he pulls them apart, bringing the bottle down to your level. you accept it, welcoming the fizzy burst of liquid, swallowing it down in gulps that make your head spin. there’s pride in his eyes when you keeps yours trained on him.

“so good for me, so well behaved.” he mumbles, more to himself it seems, but the praise still leaves you weak.

lando extends his hands, the bottle forgotten on the desk, and he pulls you to your feet, flush against him. you grab at him desperately, pawing at his lean body like he’ll disappear.

“you’re so pretty.” he whispers, nosing over your jaw. you flush, cheeks tinting deep and warm. “‘m so in love with you.” he purrs into your ear.

heat and raw emotion flood through your veins, and you’re shoving him backwards towards the bed, climbing on top of him. your knees bump his hips as you straddle him, your hair fanning his shoulders as you kiss him hard.

“love you. ‘m so proud. wanna show you.” your words come out frenzied, muffled as they get lost to his mouth. your teeth clash with his, his winning smile moulding against yours.

“yeah, baby? gonna show me?” lando’s eyes rake over your frame, his hands guiding your hips. you raise yourself up, your hands lining you up, and then…

“oh.”

“fuck.”

you sink down on him, filling yourself up slowly, the both of you panting already. the glide is slow, easy; he’s so big but you’re so wet.

“aren’t you glad we didn’t go out?” he hisses through gritted teeth, entranced by the way you feel, everywhere, all over him.

you nod, frantic in your agreement, your eyes rolling back in your head as you bottom out. it’s addictive, the stretch of him, your hands gliding over his abs as you try to find some balance. you rock your hips, revelling in the slow grind, up and down. your clit grazes his pubic bone with every rise and fall and you swallow hard, his body sticky under your fingertips.

“you did so good today, lan, so pretty up on that top step.” you pant, circling your hips. he groans, pulling you down so that you’re chest to chest, your lips centimetres apart, when the moment is stolen.

lando’s phone buzzes, over and over, max verstappen’s face filling the iphone screen. lando looks at the device on the bedside table, cursing under his breath.

“must be wondering where the race winner is.” you giggle, choosing to make light of the situation, rather than dwell on your ruined orgasm.

“he can wait.” lando grunts, fingers bruising your hips when he flips you onto your back, his cock staying buried so deep inside of you that you see stars when you hit the mattress.

your leg is thrown over his shoulder callously, a stoniness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. he’s determined to finish you off, show you just how bad he’s wanted you all day, remind you that you’re in bed with a someone who knows how to win. the angle change is jarring, it takes you a minute to adjust, not that he gives you the courtesy, fucking into you how you both like it as the call rings out through the room.

“baby- lando!” you yelp, your belly tight. the waves of pleasure swell in your core, his merciless antics send you barreling towards another orgasm. you’re teetering over the edge, his thumb flush against your clit, spasming at his manipulation, dangerously clos-

buzz buzz buzz buzz.

buzz buzz buzz buzz.

“for fuck sake!” lando swears, pulling out of you. you whine wantonly at the loss, pouting up at him.

he drags you to the edge of the bed until your legs hang over, flipping you angrily onto your belly. your cheek is pressed into the duvet, your toes barely graze the floor. his ringtone continues to sound out and he hastily grabs his phone. he hits the green button the same time he slides back into your cunt.

“what, max?” he spits, thrusting into you, so deep that you can’t help the screech that burns the back of your throat. it’s obscene, really, the way you gush around him at the knowledge that someone else is listening in, at the fact that lando takes pride in how good he makes you feel.

you try to muffle your cries, really, you do, but lando has other plans. he gathers your hair, winding it around his fingers so that he can pull your face out of the comforter. you sob, loud, the lewd squelch of where you’re joined with him more than audible.

“i’m busy. fuck off.” lando growls throwing the phone down onto the bed, conveniently right next to your head. the call is still in progress, but max is quick to hang up when he hears your shaky breath, poorly concealed squeals.

“you’re insane.” you manage to choke out. he laughs wetly, the sound making you dizzy.

lando shuffles the pair of you up the bed, propping you onto your knees, all the while hammering into you with that athletic stamina that makes your head spin. the pad of his index finger traces your thigh, finding home on your clit and the tears fall harder, blurring your vision. he pulls your back to his chest, beginning a deep grind that renders your speechless.

“you liked that, didn’t you? him hearing how good i make you feel.” lando’s breath fans the shell of your ear. you nod, mumbling something incoherent, too blissfully exhausted.

‘cuz you’re so good to me. so so good to me.

“thought about shoving your panties in your mouth to shut you up, but you ruined them, didn’t you baby?” lando circles your clit harder, tugging at your earlobe “remember? when you weren’t being a good for me? but you are now, aren’t you, honey? you’re my good girl, hm?”

you clamp down around him, heat licking down your spine. you’re clammy with sweat, glazed with champagne, at one with him. lando shudders as you tighten around him, holding you as close as he can get. you writhe against him when you hit your peak, slumping against him as you quiver. pearly whites sink into your flesh, hard enough to to ground you, not enough to hurt you. you love it, him, everything about this. you coax him into his orgasm, his thrusts turn sloppy and he cums, thick and hot.

it takes a solid five minutes before you can move, the pair of you crawling up the bed, stretching like two sun-kissed cats. you’re sweaty, stuck together tangled between white bedding that definitely needs changing.

“that was-“

“better than any race win.” lando sighs, languidly smiling against your hair line where he lays gentle kisses, his entire demeanour changed in a matter of minutes.

“you’re just saying that.” you tease, drumming your fingers over his chest.

“no, ‘m not. i loved every moment of today, best day of my life,” he breathes, dazed. “but i love you more.”

-

max sips his drink, the dial tone sounding through his ears.

“just won a fucking race and he’s not here yet.” oscar laughs. typical lando.

the call goes to voicemail, but max is drunk, persistent, and quite frankly, feeling a little annoying.

“‘m gonna try him again.” max nods his head, tapping against his phone screen impatiently.

“did you consider the fact that he might be… busy?” charles smirks into his drink, slumping against the back of the booth.

it’s too late, the ferrari drivers suggestion falls on deaf ears. max has made the call, again, but this time he gets an answer.

“where the fuck are you?” max asks, but then his face pales.

“what?” oscar tilts his head, watching in confusion as max wrinkles his nose.

the phone goes flying from max’s hands, thudding against the cushioned seats, his jaw hanging agape. once the disbelief subsides, he’s giggling like a child.

“guess he was busy then, hm?” charles raises a knowing eyebrow.

“yeah,” max is red now, cackling. “something like that.”

-

hehe whoops

-

taglist

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[sanemistar]

DANGEROUS MAN

contents ★ clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, suggestive (17+), making out, slight mention of biting/marking, reader gets called princess, 1.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

your parents had warned you several times about satoru gojo, the leader of the gojo clan. one of the strongest clans to exist, along with your own clan. they had forbidden you from speaking him, let alone being in the same room as him. due to the long history and the rivalry between your clan and the gojos, your clans had considered each other enemies for as long as one could remember. you had been familiar with their warnings like the back of your hand, and you had abided by them for so long. though you personally had no ill intentions towards him, nor even understood the hatred against the gojos.

that was, until you had met him in person at one of those boring higher up gatherings that you were forced to attend when you two coincidently went outside to get a breath of fresh air, away from all the tension and awkwardness inside.

the first thought that had come across your mind when you first saw satoru was that he was charming, like one of those charming princes you read about in fairy tales. you’d seen him in pictures before, but never this close. truth be told, pictures could’ve never fully captured how ethereal he looked in real life. you’d never seen anyone like him before, and you probably never would. he was simply out of this world, like a work of art—a one in a million man. enchanted by his beauty, you couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. your eyes never dared to look away from him, as if they were glued onto him.

“well well. if it isn’t you, the princess from that clan.” satoru’s voice pierced through your ears, waking you up from your dazed state. “you’ve been staring at me for so long, like i’m a statue in a museum or something.” you were unaware of how long you’d been staring at satoru until you saw the confusion on his face as he pointed out. you felt your face redden in embarrassment and you immediately looked down in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

“s-sorry about that, gojo-san. i didn’t mean to do that, i just…” you trailed off mid sentence, unsure of what to say in order to justify your actions earlier. your head was in and your thoughts were all over the place.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming closer to you and before you was none other than satoru. the one man you shouldn’t be standing so close to. your mind was telling you to run away and leave, but your body refused to move an inch. his thumb quickly glazed over your chin, swiftly lifting it up and your eyes got caught in his alluring gaze like a mouse in a cheese trap that was unable to escape before he let go of your chin. you could swear that the spot where he touched you earlier was tingling, as if his touch was electric.

“oh c’mon, no need for these formalities. they mean nothing to me. my name is satoru, so just call me satoru.” he spoke and you were slightly taken aback, you two had just met and he already wanted you to act on a first name basis.

“but..” he cut you mid sentence.

“no buts, it’s pretty easy. just repeat after me, satoru.” he said his name again slowly, waiting for you to say it back. he was pretty insistent on it so it looked like you had no choice.

“satoru.” his name finally rolled off your tongue, and a proud smirk made its way onto his face upon hearing you say his name. the way it came off your lips got him a little excited.

just then an idea popped up in satoru’s head, a reckless one at that.

“why don’t we go somewhere else where it’s just us two? away from all this.” he grabbed your hand gently yet firmly, like he had no intention of leaving you alone.

you knew best that it was never good ignoring what your parents had told you and involving yourself with him. but at that moment, you agreed to go with him. completely forgetting about everything, the rivalry, the hatred, everything. you weren’t sure if that was a rebellion phase or what, all you knew was that it felt right leaving with him.

satoru seemed surprised for a moment by how quickly you agreed to follow him, but grinned and took your hand before dragging the two of you away as you disappeared from the main entrance and into a quieter place where it was just you and him.

you had no idea how you ended up being pinned against the wall with satoru’s tall, lean figure hovering over you. completely blocking your view and blocking you from sight.

“why did you follow me so easily, hm? what if i had a malicious intention of some sort. didn’t your parents warn you about how dangerous the gojos were? especially their leader.” your chest moved up and down as your heart began racing rapidly.

“if you had any malicious intentions like you said, you would’ve taken me somewhere outside the territory. but since we didn’t really go that far away, it’d be useless for you to be doing anything dangerous here.” you began explaining. and satoru seemed so impressed by your smart response.

“you’re indeed very amusing.” he chuckled softly. he rested his hands on the wall, forcing you to look at nothing else around but him.

tension between the two of you began rising, and you found yourself subconsciously looking at his lips.

and satoru was so quick to notice how you were eyeing his lips for a while now.

“you could’ve simply asked me for a kiss if you want it so badly instead of just staring at my lips, princess.” he leaned in as he whispered into your ear and you could feel it heat up a bit in embarrassment.

and before you could get the chance to say anything you felt satoru’s lips smacking onto yours. you gasped into the kiss in surprise, your mind screamed at you to break away and push him off of you. but this time not only your body, but also your heart, refused to. you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in the mood as you pulled him even closer to you. your fingers ran through the back of his soft hair.

meanwhile, satoru’s hands delicately trailed all over your back, slowly exploring every part and every bit of your skin. he was taking his sweet time touching you all while having your lips against his own, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

as the two of you further got in the mood, your kisses had become sloppier and hungrier. teeth clashing against each other as tongues swirled around one another in sync. what started off as a soft, gentle kiss had become a series of deep, passionate kisses that held so much lust and desire in them.

you felt so good that you could almost see stars.

“mhmm..” careful not to make any loud noises in order to avoid getting caught by anyone, you hummed against his lips. and you never knew you had the ability to hum like that ever so sweetly.

you couldn’t believe that you were doing such things with the one man you were never supposed to be doing all of that with.

satoru gojo was indeed dangerous, he was too dangerous for your heart.

the two of you had been making out for almost ten minutes straight. if it wasn’t for your desperate need for air to breathe, you wouldn’t have broken away. but due to the lack of oxygen, you had to break away from the kiss and catch your breath. eyes were only half open, your head was still light and dizzy after that makeout session as you were heavily panting, your lips which were now swollen were still slightly parted as a small trail of drool trickled down your chin.

“you look so beautiful right now, i think i’m in love.” satoru glazed his thumb over the corner of your lips, wiping the drool off. he leaned in once more and began nibbling on the crook of your slender neck and you winced a little as you felt him biting a bit too hard which would have probably left a mark that you would have to hide.

“maybe we should leave all this behind and run away together. it’s a great idea, don’t you think?” he suggested as he looked up at you, his blue eyes glowed slightly in the dark.

you suddenly came back to your senses upon hearing the words he said and slightly pushed him off of you.

“satoru we..” you began speaking, trying to form a coherent sentence. “we can’t do that. we’re supposed to be enemies, remember?” it was more of a reminder to yourself than it was to him that you and satoru would never be anything more than enemies.

“but enemies don’t kiss each other like that.” he whispered as he continued kissing your neck and up to your cheeks, then your nose, then back to your lips. he gave you quick, light pecks before pulling away.

“guess i’ll have to talk to those annoying higher ups of ours and end that nonsense rivalry, cause no way i’m gonna let you be with anyone else that’s not me.”

and the next thing you knew, you were being dragged by satoru into the main hall where all the higher ups were as both of you made a dramatic entrance when he announced that he’d be marrying you before kissing you in front of all of them. leaving everyone in the room, you included, in great shock.

satoru gojo was a dangerous, very dangerous man.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies

[tomsparkyr]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 [𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: when coach tells people the room requirements and the 'no sexual perversions perpetrated' rule by the so-called 'little deviants', it only makes the couple want to break that rule even more.

stiles stilinski x fem!reader (no smut sorry babies)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were nestled into your boyfriend's neck, the soft flannel material brushing against your cheek and the scent you knew all too well, all of the senses could have made your eyes flutter back closed. You felt a small nudge on your shoulder, groaning and shrugging off the contact, you decided to ignore Stiles’ silent request for you to lift your head up.

It wasn’t until you felt his warm touch brush the hair that had fallen in front of your face away and the palm of his hand stroke your cheekbone, you pulled away from his contact and looked up at him.

His brown eyes looked into your own and he smiled softly at you. He couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on. He couldn’t believe he was going out with someone like you. You were beautiful in and out, hence his gut-wrenching crush he’s had on you since the 3rd grade. After long years of pining and certain dreams, he couldn’t thank the supernatural world for existing more as he finally got a chance with you; and boy, did he take it.

At the beginning of your relationship, Scott thought Stiles was joking when he said he kissed you, and you actually kissed him back. He just laughed, patted him on the shoulder and moved on with the subject.

“No, Scott! I’m not kidding.” Stiles said, almost offended. But then he sobered his thoughts and kind of understood Scott because it had taken him 3 hours after your kiss to finally process that he had grown the balls to do that, and apparently you liked it too.

Scott paused momentarily, “Neither am I Stiles, we need to focus on--” Stiles sighed dramatically and flailed his arms around in desperation. Scott paused mid-sentence, tilted his head and waited for his best friend to continue.

“Scott, I kissed her. Like, I actually kissed her!” Stiles smiled widely. Scott remained unconvinced, blinking slowly and scrunched his brows. “You know, when you put your lips on someone else's--”

“Yes, Stiles! I know what kissing is!” The werewolf exasperated, he shook his head. “I just don’t believe it was with her. Y/N? Head cheerleader, popular, smart, way out of your league Y/N?”

“You better believe it, Scotty.” Stiles patted his hand rhythmically on Scott’s back as he began to walk away, intending to walk to his beautiful girlfriend's house. 

Scott grabbed onto Stiles’ flannel and yanked him back for more details, “You mean ‘I’ve had a crush on her since 3rd grade, I wish she would look my way and we would get married and have kids’ Y/N?” Scott grew a proud smile the more he said, knowing how down bad his best friend was for this girl.

Stiles nodded frantically and adjusted his flannel, “And she actually kissed you back?” Scott questioned. “Scott, I think 3rd grade me died a little bit when she held my hand, let alone kiss me back.” Stiles jokes.

The two boys looked at each other before high fiving and doing their ‘bro-hug’. Scott congratulated the boy, not hiding his pure excitement for his friend; borderline jumping for joy. The boys gushed over the new relationship for a few more minutes before Stiles snapped out of it and ran out the room, shouting behind him saying he had to get back to his girlfriend who was waiting for him. Scott doing a subtle fist pump as Stiles turned his back.

“Wake up, baby,” He whispered, not wanting to disturb you too much as you wiped the grogginess and sleep off your face. You looked at your surroundings, “We here?”

Stiles looked out the window of the bus, eye twitching at the surroundings. “Not quite…” 

The motel looked uncomfortable, old and just overall, definitely violating hundreds of safety codes. The poor attempt at the neon lights brightened up the place in the darkness outside, but did little to make the atmosphere any more homely. But he knew it would be fine for one night, as long as you were by his side the entire night.

Everyone began piling out of the bus, a couple of your friends passing you and giving you two a wink as they noticed the state you and your boyfriend were in; cuddled up close, hands intertwined and Stiles admiring you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. Even in this messed up supernatural world, Stiles found beauty in the horror; and that was you.

Stiles helped you off the bus, his hands never leaving you. He slung an arm around your waist as you stepped onto the concrete and became aware of your surroundings. 

It was clear you had the same initial thoughts as Stiles as he read your body language. He rubbed his thumb on the skin between your top and the jeans that hugged your figure, leaning in and kissing the top of your forehead.

As you walked towards your friends and addressed Lydia’s discomfort at the Motel, Stiles had sneaked behind you and hugged you from behind. He rested his head on top of yours and you leaned back into his chest; his arms were locked around your front and you rested your hands on top of his, sighing into the contact.

It felt like you were in a dream, you never wanted to leave this comfortability with Stiles, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

The Coach’s whistle broke you out of your bliss, snapping your attention to him as he turned away from the Motel and faced the angsty teenagers. 

“Listen up. The meet’s been pushed till tomorrow.” You groaned quietly and nestled backwards into Stiles’ chest, he smiled at you. “This is the closest Motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates such as yourselves.”

You would protest Coach’s point, but he was completely correct, actually. Who the hell would want 20 odd, hormonal teenagers who definitely have questionable things packed in their bags to stay in your Motel?

“Now, you’ll be pairing up. Choose wisely.”

You and Stiles look at each other, untangling yourself from his hold and intertwining your hands. You pulled him over to the Coach, not seeing Scott raise his brows at Stiles’ smirking face at the idea of spending a night with you in your own room, no parental interruptions, no supernatural; just a boyfriend and girlfriend in each other's company.

Coach noticed the two of you approaching like a couple on their honeymoon and felt the need to clarify something.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” He shouted, looking directly at you. “Especially you, Stilinski and Y/L/N!”

You two dropped your hands expectantly, reluctantly taking a key for different rooms. The boy sighed at you and leaned in to kiss you before you departed over to Lydia and Alisson.

The sound of the Coach’s whistle made you two jump apart before your lips touched. “What did I just say!” Stiles went to protest, “I don’t wanna hear it! Get out of here!” 

Stiles groaned and turned away to room with Scott, you loitered back for a moment, just in time to hear the Coach say, “How he managed to get you to go out with him… I’ll never know.” You chuckled to yourself and roomed with your friends.

It had been an hour since you got to your room and settled in, kicking back and chatting to the girls for a while until they decided to shower and get themselves ready for bed. You had begun to set up until you got a message from Stiles.

Stiles: come to my room please i miss you

You smiled at his message, missing him too. And typed out a response.

You: i can’t the girls will see i’ve gone somewhere :((((

Stiles: you’ll be back before they’ve noticed you’re gone i promise

Stiles: baby?

Stiles was typing out more questions, and thinking of other ways to convince you to come over as Scott had left the room to explore the Motel more.

He was confused by your silence until he heard a knock at the door. He stood up, expecting it to be Scott but was braced by your beautiful face as he swung the door open.

He smiled, looking you up and down before tugging you into the room. He kicked the door behind him as he twisted your bodies so your back was facing the room. 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you messed with the hair at the nape of his neck, drinking in his appearance and licking your lips. “I missed you, baby.” He groaned in the sexiest voice you think you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “I missed you, too.” You chuckled before connecting your lips.

He leaned into your body as his lips pressed into yours, subtly sneaking his tongue into your mouth. His hands snuck around to your back and held your body against his own, feeling every crevice and worshipping them. His hands explored your back, itching closer as he murmured for you to jump into him.

You obliged and wrapped your legs around his waist, he caught you by planting his hands on your ass. He smiled into his kiss and found himself growing more desperate for you as each second passed.

Your hands tangled in his hair and tugged at it as he walked the pair of you to the rickety bed situated in the middle of the room. He gently placed you on the bed and leaned on top of you, finding himself comfortable in between your legs.

The kiss grew more erratic as it went on, hotter and hands wandering. Stiles slipped his hands underneath your top and began to lift it over your head. 

You stopped him suddenly and he pulled back, his face coated in your lipgloss and his hair a mess; God, he looked good. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?” He panicked. You smiled and placed your hands on his face. “No, baby. Just don’t want Scott to walk in on us.” You confessed.

Stiles shook his head, “He won’t be back for ages…” He whispered and leaned back in to kiss your neck, sucking at your sweet spots that made your back arch. You sighed as his tongue worked wonders.

Stiles noticed you weren’t fully convinced and jumped off the bed, leaving you stranded. You were confused momentarily until he snatched something out of the bedside drawer, and opened the room door, hooking it on the handle and turning back to you.

“Just to be sure.” He winked and situated himself back between your legs and lifted your shirt over your head this time.

The room became hotter with each second, steam practically coating the walls; as the room door held up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with pride.

Your stay with Stiles was much more prolonged than you had intended, your clothes now back on your body a little misshapen but the thought that was there. 

You skipped back to your Motel room and quietly pushed open the door at this late hour, knowing Lydia and Alisson were probably curled up in bed at this time. 

Kicking off your shoes, you snuck into the room and breathed a sigh of relief that the girls hadn’t had their suspicions about your disappearance, obviously feeling content enough to go to sleep with no nerves.

You turned on the bedside lamp to see where you were going and jumped at the sight of Lydia and Alisson wide awake and leaning on the headboard of their shared bed, staring right at you with raised eyebrows and a subtle smirk.

Alisson tilted her head, “So, where were you?” She questioned.

You stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “I was just… at the vending machine. Stupid things sucked up my money.” You fake chuckled.

Lydia hummed, “Yeah, it took you 3 hours…” You could practically feel a bead of sweat dripping down your forehead, “Yeah, I had a lot of trouble with it… Anyway, I’m heading to bed-”

“I didn’t know vending machines give you hickeys.” Alisson said, making you freeze and pale.

You opened your mouth but no words came out, “And it has nothing to do with the fact that Scott tried to get back to his room but the sound of moaning probably stopped him from going into the hot box.” Lydia smirked.

You quite literally had no words, “Shit.” You murmured.

Alisson giggled at you, "You realise Coach is gonna kill you two, especially Stiles." You groaned loudly.

The two girls chuckled at you and invited you into their huddle, only insisting you showered first. You laughed along with them and jumped into them, “At least someone had fun on this God awful trip.” Lydia smiled at you before you whacked her with the pillow you were previously leaning on.

[jawllines]

“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.” 

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!” 

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.”

or

Y/N likes Harry, and that's convenient, because Harry likes her too

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

(8.4k+ words)

vi.

Y/N has never been very good at science. 

Life sciences, like biology, she could figure out easily enough if there were pictures, and chemistry, she could fumble her way through after spending at least an hour screaming into her pillow about how much she didn’t want to do it. Things like physics, though, always zipped right over her head. With a limited understanding of whatever the hell Newton and Einstein were talking about also came a limited understanding of anything that may have to do with space. It was interesting, but actually learning about the concepts that shape their whole universe? Terrifying. Y/N would rather not know how big the galaxies are, because then she needs to start considering the existence of extraterrestrial life, and she feels like as soon as you go down that rabbit hole, you’re asking to get abducted. 

But she does know about supernovas. Only because of a song that she really liked mentioned them, and she had to see what it was. There was a long, intricate explanation as to why they happen, but what Y/N took away from it was that they were an explosion, and it was so bright, it could outshine galaxies. Beautiful colors emerge, blues, purples, pinks, greens, oranges, impressive and intense. 

Whatever is happening in her chest right now, Y/N thinks is close to a supernova. It feels just as colorful and complex. As bewitching, and as dazzling. As captivating, and as terrifying. Her heart races with it, confused, excited, overjoyed, hopelessly giddy. She probably needed a moment to sort through all the thoughts spinning around in her head, but right now, she knew she wouldn’t get one. She didn’t mind that either – not right now. Not when this is a version of Harry that she’d never been privy to. One that she’d never believed she’d ever get to witness. 

Harry, from the moment he’d stepped through her door, was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. And she’d seen him with his cock out and everything, consumed by lust, his bare bum walking to her bathroom – all pretty vulnerable positions, she’d say. Like, he definitely wouldn’t want to be caught by a bear in that state. But this emotional vulnerability was something else entirely for such a typically emotionally guarded, closed-off person. The impassive and at times apathetic man that she had come to know had been dipped in honey and set before her. Or, better yet, maybe dipped in an acid, to erode the outer shell and reveal the honeyed center beneath. 

He’d taken her to the sofa immediately, sat down across from her, his hands held out with his palms facing upward, and Y/N wasn’t sure if it’d been a silent request or a silent offering. Maybe both – she took it, no matter what it was, and slid her fingers between his own. Their hands were tight around one another's, as Harry curled his over her knuckles, his thumb stroked her where it lay. 

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Harry started, measured and sure, despite the way his cheeks flamed hot and fiery with what she could only imagine was immense embarrassment. Not that she thought his reaction was anything to be embarrassed about – had roles been reversed, she probably would have cried the moment she saw him then tried to crawl up under his shirt or something. But she knew that Harry wasn’t used to expressing himself or his feelings this intensely, so she understood the nerves behind it. “I should have warned you that Maren would be there, but I wasn’t sure how. . .how to explain why I was telling you? I guess that’s the easiest way to put it. And I really didn’t think she’d be a problem – she’s always been a thorn in my ass, but she usually isn’t so pointed with her advances.” He shook his head with a soft sigh, “But that’s beside the point. You mentioned me not messaging you as much?” Y/N nodded, and Harry nodded with her, “That had nothing to do with Maren,” he explained, “I was. . .if I’m honest, I was worried that I had been too overbearing while you were out for that week.” 

Y/N tilted her head, “Overbearing? I didn’t think so.” She shook her head, “You really took care of me. If you want to see overbearing, you need to meet Ni’s aunt – she checks his forehead like 5 times in the span of 10 minutes to make sure he isn’t too warm.” 

A small smile wormed onto his mouth, warmed and soothed the worry off of his face, “That’s good to know,” he replied, “I suppose I got into my head too, about it all. Especially when you didn’t want to talk to me.” 

With a grimace, Y/N explained herself, “Yeah, that – I didn’t handle that well, I don’t think,” she swallowed hard, “I just – um. . .like I was – I kind of thought I walked in on you two kissing?” Then she hurriedly adds, “Which is within your right to do! You aren’t not allowed to do what you want, I just didn't –” she huffed a sigh, unsure of how to articulate it beyond the easiest way, which happened to be the most humiliating, “I know we aren’t technically together or anything, but it made me jealous. I was jealous, and petty, and wanted to ignore you until I could sort myself out. I get it if the whole jealousy thing makes you uncomfortable, and like...I mean, I want to promise that it won’t happen again, but I don’t know if I can.” She swallowed even harder, chin tipped down, staring at their hands. Even just two weeks ago, Y/N would have rather worked with notoriously difficult Chhurpi cheese than tell Harry that she was jealous. To even allude to the fact that her feelings for him might be beyond what they had started this with.

But tonight, it didn’t feel so hard. It took her a while to spit it out, sure, but she still was able to get there. Part of what encouraged her was the way his hands felt against hers, the expanse of their palms pressed together so warmly that it thaws out her usually cold fingers. Another part was the blatant, and unremitted display of affection he’d doled out to her as soon as he stepped through the threshold of her flat, as if he didn’t peck her face with a hundred kisses, she’d disappear in a puff of smoke. And another – the way he was looking at her. His eyes were softened in a way she only vaguely recalls after they had sex, when she’s only a couple of minutes from passing out, pressed tightly to his side. 

“When I called you the other night and you were with Youngjae, I was so jealous that I could barely see straight,” he admitted suddenly, honestly, “Surely, you realized that? I threw a fit, practically – covered you in all of those marks. Even before then, when he’d only just complimented your meal, invited you to practice under him, and I was just so mad that he’d asked right in front of me. So I took you home and I fucked you that night. Don’t you remember?” 

Y/N nodded, but still, she considered his words, “I kind of figured. Or, well, at least Niall kind of figured and then told me that you were jealous.” 

“Niall is smarter than he looks.” 

“But I guess I just wondered what it was you even had to be jealous of? I mean, you and YoungJae are kind of carbon copies of each other, only he’s Korean!” 

Harry clicked his tongue, “No,” he disagreed, “That’s not the only difference. He’s more personable, more gentle, he seems sweeter, and more patient. Adam told me you had a dedicated crying corner to go to when I yelled at you. It’s different,” he seemed stressed, remembering it, “He’s different than me, and I figured that you’d go and realize that you could learn with someone nicer, who was attractive, and probably had a crush on you.” 

“A crush on me?” Y/N gaped, then sat up straighter, “What the hell? What made you think that?” 

His eyes go wide, “What, you don’t think he likes you? He looked at you like you’d given him a star or something. It was so irritating.” Y/N couldn’t help it when she snorted, a giggle bubbled from her throat, and she had to slip one of her hands from his to cover her mouth, “Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I’m not!” She bit down on her lip to suppress it, but it still slipped free, “It’s just – Harry, he looks at everyone like that! He even looks at you like that – actually, he looks downright dreamy when he even thinks about you.” 

Y/N has never seen Harry truly, genuinely pout until tonight. His bottom lip jutted out, and he still looked grumpy, but Y/N wanted so badly to slip her hands onto his face and pull him to her mouth. To dig her teeth into his lip and nibble and pull at it until he whines, too. She took his hand again, then chanced pulling his hand up to her face, running her cheek along his knuckles, “You’re just saying that.” He muttered. 

“You’re so silly,” Y/N replied. This is such a refreshing development, she thinks. Never would she have expected this from Harry – this pouting, jealous, slightly insecure version of him that thinks she’d run off with Youngjae because he was nice to her. She doesn’t even have time to consider being mad at Niall for exposing her crying corner to Adam, because all she can think about is how upset Harry seemed that it even had to exist. There was a guilt clear on his features, but whispered between his words. Honestly, Y/N hadn’t even thought about how Harry used to yell at her for a long time. “I’m not just saying it! He didn’t give me any vibes like he might like me.” 

Harry tipped his chin up and looked to the side, and wow, she wondered if she reached out and touched his ear, if it’d feel as hot as it looked, “Well, I don’t know how much I trust your detection skills, if I’m being honest.” He mumbled, “It seems like Niall has to do most of the ground work.” Still, despite a grumbled reply, he flipped his hand around so that he cradled her cheek instead, resting it against his palm. 

This giddy feeling that overruns her is nice. It’s fun – she likes it, after so long of being so upset and confused and distraught. She thinks she’s finally starting to understand, though. . .that she’s finally getting it. What Niall had been seeing this entire time. 

“Harry?” She inquired, and he hummed, eyes following Hazelnut as she sat across from them, and looped her tail around her bottom paws. When she doesn’t say anything to immediately follow it, Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes bright, “If I asked to see you and we didn’t have sex, and we didn’t cook something. . .would you be okay with that?” 

Harry answered without hesitation, “Yes.” 

“And if I. . .if I said that I only wanted you to do stuff like this with me? Sex, and…and seeing each other outside of it?” The nerves almost stop her from saying it, threatening to clog her throat.

“Then I’d tell you that it’s been like that from the start,” he replied again, immediately, “I’d tell you that you’re the only person I want to see. The only one I want to sleep with. The only person I’d like to be with.”

Y/N grinned. She scooted across the sofa to wrap her arms around his shoulders, and Harry slid his arms around her waist. It was warm — Y/N wondered when the last time they hugged like this was. If they’ve ever even hugged like this. There’s so much that they have done together, but still so much they hadn’t, and if this was them opening the door to all of that, she was more than enthusiastic.  

With her chin hooked around his shoulder, Harry’s face is dipped into her throat. He takes a deep breath, then a slow exhale, “This is a lot, for me,” he told her, “I wish that you could just siphon information from my brain instead of me having to say it.” 

“Ah, you might need to get used to saying it, though. I’m kind of dense – Niall says so at least.” 

Somehow, they had ended up in her bed. Nothing crazy, nothing sexual, just the two of them tangled up in each other’s limbs, and for the first time, Harry falls asleep first. He had all but demanded that she let him spoon her, so she didn’t get to look at his face, but with the way his breathing had slowed and how heavy his arm felt around her waist, she knew he was resting. This is a sort of content that she seldom gets to feel and still be all in her head to truly enjoy it. Harry’s body is pressed warm against her back, he sounds sweet with little snores, and Y/N can’t help but melt into him entirely. 

All the vulnerability must have tuckered him right out. Y/N smiled to herself, stretching her arm over his, her hand resting over his hand. Even in his dreams, he raises two fingers for her to curl around. Twists his fingers up in hers.

Her insides feel bright, wicked, an ebullition of colors that rival a supernova. 

                                                          .                              .                             .

The thing is, Y/N feels bad. 

Listen, she knows she shouldn’t! She and Harry have discussed their feelings, and they’ve communicated relatively decently about the entire situation and how to avoid it in the future. Harry only implores her that if she has an issue, she bring it to him directly, no matter how intimidating she might think he is. Whether it be work-related or not, Harry is not the type to let issues fester. He’d like to nip it in the bud immediately, as soon as possible, even if he’s the one who is upset. 

So they’d discussed it, and they’d apologized for the misunderstandings, and it should be in the dust by now. Just something they had learned and grown from – something in the past. 

But Y/N replays how Harry had walked into her flat, how he’d cradled her face, kissed her a thousand times, told her to never completely ice him out again. To never not speak to him, to leave him in the dark, and it’d only been a few days – barely. 

She feels bad, though. He’s told her dozens of times that she shouldn’t feel bad, because it wasn’t her fault – the situation was just an incorrect interpretation of the other’s thoughts and feelings at the time. That he wasn’t upset, to stop apologizing, that if she said sorry to him one more time, he would get upset. 

So she has an idea. And she takes her idea to Niall, because he hadn’t steered her wrong at this point, and he would let her know if it was stupid or not. If she would look ridiculous doing it. If she should just make him a meal or something to quell the ache in her chest. 

“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.” 

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!” 

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.” 

“Niall!” She exclaims, but he pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly drags up the link from an email, “How much was – why am I so shocked?” 

Niall clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why you’re shocked at all, actually, I told you I was going to,” he spun the phone around, sliding it across the table, “S’crazy right? It wasn’t that pricey, consider it a birthday present. So, I’ll kind of guide you through this because I know you’ll get in your head and freak out. I was actually intensely into pet play like three years ago, so this is perfect.” 

That’s how Y/N ended up here, after extensive teachings from Niall, examples, and demonstrations that make her face feel so hot it might melt off. It all led to her inviting Harry over to her flat on their day off, with a medium-sized collar around her throat that had his name stitched into it. A leash was clipped to the metal clasp at the back of it, which she looped around her wrist while she moved around so she didn’t get tangled in it. She had a set of ears clipped in neatly on her head, flopping, similar to her hair color, but stuck out enough that it was clear what they were. The most shocking of all, however, and the most time spent between her and Niall, was him teaching her how to open herself up for a plug. 

He showed her how to on his Fleshlight, which looked like a bum, and he’d promised her he’d cleaned it out before he pulled it out for their “fingering-lesson” as he continued to call it. Y/N thinks that if she had said it was okay, Adam would have been on the phone guiding her as well, but she was feeling way too bashful for that. Hell, even talking about it with Niall was a lot, as he described how much lube, the depth she should start with, how many fingers, but even before that – her diet and how to clean herself out to prepare for it. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever stared so hard at a fleshlight in her life, as she watched him spread it open, talk about the right and wrong way to do it. 

So, spreading her open, a plug with a tail fixed to the end of it caressed the insides of her thighs every time she moved. It was insane, all of this, but they had talked about it before – briefly. Discussed what they wanted to do, how he wanted her to be a proper puppy, and Y/N wanted that too. She just wishes she could skip to the part where she was so cock dumb and empty-headed that she didn’t feel all the anxious, jittering nerves inside of her. 

Because what if Harry was just saying that as pillow talk? What if he’d just been trying to work her and himself up, but the actual thought of it he didn’t want. Maybe they needed to sit and have a proper chat about it, before she just balls to the wall went all in and dressed like a fucking dog then invited him over to her flat. This is actually insane work, honestly, and yeah Niall is right about most things but he’s also a horny freak who typically has partners equally freaky and horny as him. She doesn’t think he’s ever not thoroughly discussed a scene before he did something new with someone either, so when Y/N had mentioned that they’d spoken about it, he probably thought she’d meant actually discussed it. Like sitting across from each other, going through hard nos, dos, and don’ts, and not when Harry was twisting a hand around his prick, and she was a hairpin trigger away from cumming untouched. 

Y/N has nearly completely talked herself out of it by the time she hears her front door open and completely stills. She was sitting on her bed, feeling stupid, silly, and a ton of other negative adjectives that did not instill any confidence in her before something she probably needed a lot of confidence for. She was trembling, her stomach turning, her heart kind of felt like it might be thudding in her throat, and her blood roared through her ears when Harry called for her. First, just her name. Then, “Baby?” Which is a new development – a welcomed one, but one that gets her all fuzzy inside, no matter how many times he’d begun to casually refer to her as such. 

Eventually, she hears his footsteps get further inside. The floorboards shift at the beginning of her hallway, then again right outside of her door, and his hand presses against the wood as he swings it open quietly. He probably thought she had fallen asleep waiting for him or something, which would explain why he was attempting to be so quiet. Instead, he is met with her, sitting on her knees, her hands were supposed to be in her lap per Niall’s instructions, but instead they were curled up in the blankets at her side. 

Harry’s gaze falls upon hers. He blinks a couple of times, like he might be trying to adjust his eyesight to the lower lighting of the room. Or maybe he’s just trying to make sure that this wasn’t some elaborate hallucination that he’d suddenly uncovered. When he stops blinking, the image of her stops disappearing and reappearing before his eyes, and there she still stays. Did he think this was embarrassing? Maybe he was experiencing the world’s greatest second-hand embarrassment – so bad that they could put it in a world record book. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh at her. She probably looked ridiculous, didn’t she? She’d barely looked herself in the mirror once she put the ears in – just enough to make sure they were level with one another before she fucked off into the bedroom. There’s no bra, there’s no underwear – she’s stark naked, just sitting, waiting, like a dog would. Like a puppy. 

“Ohhhh, I see,” his voice is careful, as he takes a step forward, “My baby isn’t here, hm? I just have a sweet little puppy instead.” 

Y/N swallows hard, dipping her head down and lowering her front half against the mattress. When Harry outstretches his hand, she rubs her face into his open palm; her cheek, her nose, her mouth. It felt good, especially when he curled his fingers up in her hair and scratched gently at her hairline, caressing upward through it, to stop at the ears. There’s a soft tug, and her head jerks with it before she settles again, letting his hands explore and move around her new accessories.

It’s when his fingers dance from her head, along her human ears, down to her neck that the pads trace around the collar. He follows the border of it, the threading, slips two fingers between her throat and the leather. It’s tight–not so tight that it’ll choke her, but it’s definitely a weighty presence–one that’s hard to ignore.  That must be when he sees it, though, as he strips around the material, because he pauses, he reads, his breathing hitches, and – 

– he moans. Something loud, a little whiny, erupting from the back of his throat. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles out, dragging his thumb along the embroidery, “Oh my fucking god.” YN lets him continue to pet her but shifts forward, nudging the back of her head against his hand. He slides his fingers to the front of the collar again, twists the thin leash around his knuckles, and gives a soft, gentle tug, “C’mon, you know better. No puppies on the bed.” He helps guide her down, on hands and knees, carefully dismounting from the mattress in the most awkward, limb-filled way she could have. Eventually, she is on the floor, the carpet digging into her nails and into her knees, her face flaming hot when she rubs her cheek against his calf, which may be more of a kitten thing than a dog thing. Niall told her that it could be interchangeable a bit, because typically, all the non-geared-up person in the dynamic cared about was that the other person was giving in to base desires and acting like an animal. 

From this angle, he must be able to see the tail because another murmured curse slips from his mouth, before she feels the same gentle, prodding fingers that usually nudge at her lips, move around her bum. The rim is stretched and messy with lube, so when Harry carefully pushes into it, Y/N whines and lurches forward. Her skin is sensitive, where it’s soft and slick, and he goes from moving around the plug to letting his fingers drag through the tail, “Such a filthy fucking thing. Where did you even get toys like this?” 

Y/N doesn’t answer, because she’s a dog and dogs don’t speak. She does shake her bum, though, move her hips from side to side so the tail swings and tickles the back of her thighs. It’s humiliating in a way that she can’t describe but the way Harry is looking at her, the heat that flurries through his gaze, the lump in his trousers where his cock is pressing up against the zipper. It’s worth it. It’s well worth the way part of her wants to crawl her way right under the bed and not let him pull her out until science can figure out a way to wipe her memory clean. 

But it also feels. . .good. Kind of, she doesn’t know – she needs to stay like this for a little longer. To really get the feel for it. Really see how deep into puppy space she could get. 

Y/N, let’s Harry guide her out of the bedroom. He leads her carefully, doesn’t tug or pull, and Y/N appreciates it. Since they weren’t able to sit down and discuss every avenue of this, she could tell that Harry was approaching it cautiously. He doesn’t just automatically start tugging her around because he doesn’t know that she’s okay with that yet. Doesn’t start spanking her and fucking her with her plug because he doesn’t know that she’d like that. Doesn’t shove her nose into his crotch and make her mouth at him wetly, because he has no clue that the thought makes her want to start drooling. 

He guides her to the sofa, and when he sits down, Y/N sits pretty beside his feet. Harry pets her head like she really is a puppy, cooing at her sweetly, “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to her jaw, his fingers caressing her skin, “Knows exactly how to be a good puppy already, don’t you? Might not even have to train you.” He hums, “But if my puppy wants to stop this at any time, all she has to say is Duck, okay? And if you can’t talk, then just squeeze my hand three times.” 

Y/N nods and shudders, dips her face against his knee, and nudges against him. Harry chuckles, grabs a pillow off her couch, and sets it on the floor between his spread feet. Once again, he gives the leash a little pull and coaxes her with sweet words, “Knees on the pillow, Pup. Why don’t you rest your head on my thigh for a little bit?” 

That’s easy enough, Y/N could do that. Niall had told her the brunt of this – what makes this all so sexy – is the complete control that Harry would have over her. If he told her to bark, then bark, if he wanted her to pant with her tongue hanging out and drool all over his cock, then she’d do it. Of course, she doesn’t think they’d get too intense tonight, because Harry is – above all else – a good, dominant partner in the dynamic. He knows when to lead and when to step back, how far to take it, and what to relax with. 

So she trusts him implicitly. Even more so when his fingers press against her lips, Y/N opens them eagerly so that he can feed them into her mouth. She sucks on them, licks around his knuckles and sighs contently – it’d been a while since he’d had his fingers in her mouth like this. Y/N forgot how much she liked it; the weight of his fingers against her tongue, the scrape of her teeth along his nails, the salty taste of his skin. She likes how full she felt with only two of them in there. Even more than that, she likes that two of her holes were plugged, and wondered how it might feel to have all three of them. The thought alone makes her shiver. 

They stay like this for a while. Harry turns the telly onto something, but she can’t tell if he’s really paying attention or not. Just feels him stroke the top of her head, fuck his fingers inside of her mouth every so often, stretch them against the inside of her cheeks. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, lulling her somewhere else–somewhere sweeter and softer, as the insides of her legs get sticky from how much she’s leaking down between them. Y/N had been good at first, perfectly still just sucking on his fingers, but she starts to wriggle more. Adjusting her hips, pawing at his calves as she slowly began to get restless. 

Y/N doesn’t realize she’s whining until she feels her throat vibrate with it, and Harry clicks his tongue softly, “What is it, puppy?” He inquired, and Y/N’s brain is full of cotton and clouds when she looks up at him. There’s drool building up at the corner of her mouth, dribbling out of the sides that Harry drags away with his thumb, “Hm? Are you feeling needy?” He pressed down on her tongue before slipping his fingers out of her mouth entirely. Y/N whines, chasing after them, but he uses his grip on the leash to keep her in place, “You can talk, Honey. Can my dumb puppy speak?” 

She opens her mouth, “Please,” her voice sounds wrecked already, “Please, I want – I need it, daddy.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes that has her clench around the plug, only making her more painfully aware of how empty her pussy was. “Yeah, you need it?” Harry repeated, biting down hard enough on his lip that the flesh blanched around the indents of his teeth. She swears she saw his cock twitch in his bottoms, which were doing very little to hide how worked up he was. “Okay, baby, show daddy how much you need it, hm?” But when Y/N starts to lift her hands toward his thighs, Harry grabs for both of them, curling his fingers around each one, “Mm, no, no, Sweetheart. Remember, puppies don’t use their hands.” 

Y/N nods, swallowing hard, not even worried about it. She could do it without her hands – she didn’t need them. All she needed to do was stretch forward and rub her face into his crotch, which should be more embarrassing than it feels right now. The way she buries her nose against him, breathing in deep, mewling when the pure scent of Harry slithers through her. Her mouth is wide open, tongue pressed out against the fabric of his thin linen trousers – the lavender ones that she was fond of – and soaking it around his cock. How he’d had it trapped against his body had made it hard at first, but the harder he got, the easier it was for her to find the head, to lull her tongue around it. She whimpers, brows curling, lips pursing at the tip and suckling through the fabric like it was all she knew how to do. 

Her hands are slid beneath the sofa cushion, so she really wouldn’t use them, but her neck and jaw start getting a little tired from how she has to move without any support. Harry must be able to tell because he tucks his fingers around the back of the collar where it lay against her nape and pulls her away. He laughs when she whines at him, her tongue hanging from her mouth, drool spilling from her, “Wow,” he murmured, “I thought it might take a bit more to get you into a sweet little spot like this, but I forgot how easy you were for it, hm? You trust me, baby?” Y/N nodded – she trusted him more than anything, “Yeah? G’na let me make you feel good?” 

Again, she nods, leaning forward when he slackens his grip and runs her tongue over his cock several times, in wet, long strokes. The fabric’s taste isn’t what she wants, though, and Harry lifts his hips and pushes the bottoms down so that his cock is out. 

He’s hard. The tip is red, leaking already, and it sways a little with the motion of him pulling it free. Y/N barely waits for permission to get her mouth on him, and while she thinks on a different day, when Harry was more prepared for a scene like this – he might have scolded her. Instead, today, he just lets her do what she wants. Laughs through his nose and strokes the side of her head as she mouths out at his cock, which feels bigger right now for some reason, than it usually does. Especially when she can’t use her hands to help guide it, she just has to part her lips and chase after it. She thinks she probably looks dumb, but she doesn’t care. She wants him in her mouth – needs it, actually.  

“Ah, maybe I will have to train a greedy puppy like you after all,” he hums thoughtfully as she slurps around his cock, taking him deep, deep, deep until it touches the back of her throat and it convulses around the intrusion. Y/N slips off, takes barely a breath to compose herself, then goes right back in, “But it’s your first time being my puppy for real, isn’t it? I’ll be more lenient now than I will in the future,” he murmurs and it sounds a little like a warning, when she drools over his cock, down to his balls, lapping at them. He groans, wanton and loud, needy as she was, “God – fuck, c’mon, g’na take care of you. Bet that pussy is so messy, isn’t it baby?” 

There’s some maneuvering involved, but Harry ends up on the floor with her, slipping out of his trousers the rest of the way. When he pulls his top over his head and tosses it to the side, Y/N reaches out for it, grabs for it – she doesn’t know why, but she wants it near her, kind of. Lays it next to her head so she could smell him some more, and if she were more in her head, then she’d realize how very omega-like of her this was, and how prideful Niall would be if he realized she’d done this. But she’s nowhere near that level of conscious thought right now. She’s swimming somewhere so beautiful and brainless that she doesn’t even feel shy to press the fabric to her nose and breathe in deeply. Smell his cologne and his sweat from the day. 

Harry’s cock twitches when he watches her, and he splits her thighs and looks between her legs. She probably is messy right now, lube and her arousal dripping all over the place. Y/N had been worked up after stretching herself open and sliding the plug in, imagining what Harry’s reaction would be to her, and how hard he might fuck her made her touch herself a little bit too. She’d only gotten to two fingers and only did enough to get herself a little more needy, so she feels deprived and restless right now. 

He starts with one fingers, and when her hole sucks him in greedily, he gives her two, right down to the knuckle, “Always so ready for it. Slutty fucking pussy,” he is tentative as he preps her, and with the plug in her bum, it somehow feels more intense. There’s more pressure everywhere, so much so that three of his fingers feel like four, and four of his fingers feel like five. Still, Y/N moans, keens, whines, whimpers – does every sound but bark for him – as he splits her open. It’s so good, she feels so fucking good right now, but all she wants is his cock. Wants him to fill her up and fuck her dumb, even stupider than she is right now. Wants to drool, wants him to fuck her hard and deep, and split around him, and feel the head nudge against her g-spot. She wants to squirt on him and get him messy. She wants him to keep going even when she’s too sensitive and is wiggling away, she wants him to drag her right back to him. 

Y/N starts fucking her hips down into him, her arms slung beneath her knees to keep them spread but her hips moving tirelessly. Harry places a hand on her thigh, fingers stretched wide, but he doesn’t stop her from moving. He almost seems amused by it, above anything else, his eyes watching closely, his lips curled into a smile, cooing little encouragement like, “Yeah, there we go, baby, that feels good, doesn’t it?” She nods helplessly, and he curls his fingers relentlessly as her legs tremble, getting tired, “Why don’t I give you something a little bigger, hm?” 

This time, she nods as enthusiastically as she can. As soon as his fingers slip from her, she rolls onto her belly unprompted, lifts herself onto her knees, and presents herself for him. Years of omegaverse lore aid her subconsciously as she rests herself on her shoulders, reaching back and pulling herself apart to show him where she’s wet and needy for him. Nobody can ever resist that, and at the end of the day, Harry is only a man. He makes a sound kind of close to a growl behind her, cursing beneath his breath when his left hand covers hers to keep her steady, and his right hand guides his prick to her hole. Even though they both knew she was more than ready enough, Harry is still slow about sliding into her. Makes sure she feels every single inch that slides inside of her, stretches her out further. Y/N wonders if it feels tighter because of the plug inside of her. Harry does show an interest in the tail, smoothing it out of his way so that he could look at her again, where she’s stretched taut around the plug. 

“Can’t stop thinking about you getting ready for me,” Harry grinds inside of her deep, and Y/N cries out, her fingers digging deeper into her flesh, “How did I find such a naughty, greedy puppy, hm? Fuck, you were made for this,” he prods at the skin around the plug, threatens to dip his thumb in too as his he slowly starts to build up a rhythm. Y/N wishes she could see him – even if she craned her neck, it would do the view no justice. She wants to watch him from the side, from the back, from between her legs – wants to see how big his cock is, how far it stretches her, how his balls slap against her with every stroke he bottoms out in. 

She can feel herself drooling, and later on, she would cringe about it, and how it smears against her cheek while her face rubs against his shirt. Oh! His shirt, she’d forgotten – she slides her hands from holding herself open and curls her arms around his shirt. Presses her nose into it and breathes in so deeply, taking in every lick of Harry’s scent that she can from it. For some reason, it made Harry’s hips stutter behind her, his fingernails digging into her skin as he paused deep inside of her. Y/N whines, and he must be able to feel that she’s going to move her hips again because he tightens his grip, “No, just – fuck, just give me a minute. You almost made me cum.” 

“Want it,” she whines, “Want it, want it, want it –” 

Harry stretches himself across her back, slips his fingers into her mouth, and muffles her mid-beg, “Shh, dumb puppies like you don’t need to talk or think,” he groans as he slides out of her, slowly rolling his hips, wary to start where he left off right away, “God, you love being my little doggy, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet,” Y/N quivers, holding his fingers uselessly in her mouth, unable to suck or lick or bite, just pant and drool around them, “You wanna cum for, Daddy, Sweetheart? Get me all nice and sticky with it?” 

His pace picks up again, the slide of it easier as he makes more space for himself inside of her. It’s much more intense with Harry pressed up against her like this, and it doubles when his fingers slip between her thighs and swirl around the swollen bud of her clit. It flicks beneath his touch, stiff and engorged, and just the press of his index and middle finger pads against it makes her cry out. The ears are flopping against her head with each thrust. Her legs want to close, but there’s no easy way to, and her back arches against him. But her mouth is full, her clit is being played with, the plug still sits inside of her and Harry rocks his hips into her like he’s trying to make sure the shape of him never leaves, hard and deep, an impression of himself in her insides. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” she sounds around his fingers, and it’s muffled, a staccato sound with every collision of their hips together. Words escape her; she just feels, and she feels everything so intensely right now. 

Her whole body shakes when she cums. It starts with her thighs, shaking hard, making the rest of her legs tremble, and the heat of her arousal swells into a tight balloon that expands rapidly, the latex filling out until it pops, and the warm wave of water that was inside of it flows through her. Washes over her whole body as she pulsates around him, milking him, and Harry fucks her through it, despite how difficult it gets when she squeezes so tightly around him, “Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmured, “I’m not g’na stop, baby, not unless you say your special word.” 

Duck, Y/N remembers, or to squeeze his hand three times. Both are far away from her now though, even as she comes down from her first orgasm, she feels oversensitive as he fucks into her but not in the way where she’d need to shove him off. So she starts working her hips back against him again and Harry curses beneath his breath, then starts fucking her earnestly again. 

She’s unsure for how long it goes on, or how many times she cums. She just knew that around her fourth orgasm, Harry had flipped her around so that she was facing him and had pulled her nipple into his mouth. And she knew that he had started fucking the plug in and out of her bum too, and Y/N felt a bubble in her belly that popped, forcing Harry out of her body when a swell of liquid followed his cock’s exit. He’s made her squirt before, and Y/N had wondered if it was just a one-and-done type of thing, but clearly not. It’s fully within his capability to do it, and leave her breathless, shaking, gasping. 

This time, Harry isn’t able to slip back into her. He peels the condom off, slips his hand through the mess of her pussy and uses that as lube to fuck himself with. Y/N watches through lidded eyes as he strokes his cock, “Yes, yes, such a messy fucking puppy, so perfect for me,” he rambles, “So good, and fucking perfect, made for me, shit – only me,” before he starts to cum, all over her belly, in thick spurts that land heavy on the skin. Some of it even reaches her neck, and the knowledge of it makes her open her mouth, let her tongue hang out in hopes of catching more of it. None comes organically like that, but Harry does smear his fingers through the mess on her belly and feeds it into her mouth. Y/N licks it away, the taste heady and Harry, and so good because of it. 

Y/N can barely move. Her muscles are kind of achy, and her head is so feather-filled she might as well be a pillow. Harry, above anything else, drops to her side and pulls her into his body, not caring about the sticky, drying cum on her skin when he pulls her into him. Rolls her over and maneuvers her limbs until she’s lying on top of him, running one of his hands up and down her back, “That was so beautiful, baby,” he says it so gently, Y/N almost wants to cry for some reason. She feels emotional and exhausted and like, maybe in love, a little bit, she doesn’t know – maybe it was just post-orgasm endorphins or maybe Harry was actually her soulmate, who could tell right then. “Did so well for me, for your first time. So perfect.” 

As he is with all things, Harry is more than careful as he removes the floppy ear clips from her hair, unbuckles the collar, and slowly slips the plug out of her bum. For a moment, one of his fingers does slide around into the little gape that was left, and when she twitches and whines, he kisses the side of her head, “Sorry, Honey, couldn’t help myself,” before slipping it away, “We’ll have to play with that pretty hole too, it was getting jealous.” Y/N manages a laugh, though it’s just breathless and soundless enough to sound like a puff of air through her nose. 

They stay there for a while, until Y/N feels like she can move, but even then, words haven’t come back to her yet. This was the deepest into subspace she thinks she’s ever been, but she isn’t scared of it. Y/N revels in it. With Harry there, she feels safe, and cared for, like she doesn’t need to worry about a thing at all. And she’s right, because he takes her to the shower with him and they get clean together. Harry wipes her down first, tenderly, slowly, and goes quickly for himself so that she isn’t standing there for too long. He coaxes water into her, too, at least half a bottle until she’s pulling her face away. Eventually, they find themselves in her bed, Y/N in a big shirt, her favorite band’s last album cover on the front, and Harry in one of her big shirts with a bunny on the front. He slid her underwear onto her, tucked them nicely around her hips, and then brought her up under the covers. Harry rubs her elbows and knees for a little bit, where they were rubbing against the carpet kind of hurt, and the skin was irritated. He pushes kisses to all the spots that seemed sore. 

“I liked that,” she finally spoke, after what might have been 20 to 30 minutes of silence. Harry doesn’t seem startled, and she wonders if it usually took her a while to start talking anyway, “A lot.” 

“Me too, Sweetheart. You play the role of a greedy puppy very well,” he rubs up and down her arm, where it’s stretched across his chest, “And you were very cute. I’ll probably touch myself to that for weeks.” 

Y/N makes a noise in her throat and tips her face into his chest, “Shut up,” she grumbles, then continues, “I – um – like you a lot,” she sighed out, her lips rewarming, preparing for a ramble that she just knew was going to happen soon. Not that she had anything in particular to ramble about, except the fact that she’d seen a really pretty garden today, before she’d puppy-fied herself. 

Harry, who had begun to play with her fingers, seemed delighted. “Is that so? That’s convenient, because I like you too.” 

“Yeah, and we should probably plant a garden together,” she rumples her lips, “But neither of us has any yard to plant a garden, so we’d have to steal someone’s yard or something. Or buy like a little patch of dirt on someone’s property. Do you know anyone who has a yard?” 

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he replies, amused, “You like gardening?” 

“I’m so bad at it, actually, but you seem like you’d be good at it, so that’s why we should plant together. Are you good at planting?” Y/N feels him nuzzle his nose against her temple, “I feel like you’re good at everything.” 

Harry hums, “No, m’not,” he murmured, “I’m actually not great at folding laundry.” 

“Really?” She tilted her head to look at him, “Like – how?” 

He shrugged, “Dunno, it always looks messy though. You haven’t seen my drawers?” 

“No, was I supposed to see them? Should I be looking through your drawers?” 

“If you wanted to, you could,” he offered, then immediately took it back, “Actually, no, I want you to pretend I’m good at everything still, I don’t need you to see my folding.” 

Y/N laughed, then nestled close to him again, “You’re silly,” she murmurs, sighing again, letting sleep weigh heavy in her bones, “I’m glad I was delusional enough to think that you were obsessed with me.” 

Harry squeezes her close. 

“It’s not delusional if it’s true.” 

[temiizpalace]

☆┊THE POCKY GAME

SUMMARY: playing the pocky game with your crush!

CHARACTERS: all dorms (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: cursing, suggestive? not really tho

NOTES: happy pocky day!! I think this game is actually really cute teehee. what’s ur guys favorite pocky? (mines the chocolate or matcha one 🙏🙏)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

GOES IN FLUSTERED, COMES OUT CONFIDENT

you caught him so off guard. he was just minding his own business, doing his thing, then suddenly you hit him with a game like this? really are you trying to kill him, prefect? does this count as a confession?? he feels hot, is his face red? he didn’t even know pocky day existed!

despite his internal panicking, how could he possibly say no to you? placing the biscuit between his lips, letting you have the chocolate side (or whatever flavor u want) like the gentleman he is. slowly, bite by bite his face inches closer to yours. his heart is killing him, but he doesn’t dare to lose. finally reaching to the midsection, his lips find yours, sharing a small sweet kiss before pulling away.

that was much more fun than he thought it’d be. how about another round?

riddle, trey, jack, kalim, silver, malleus

GOES IN CONFIDENT, COMES OUT A LOSER

he was so smug when you asked. say less prefect! he’ll play the game with you since you’re so desperate!

then suddenly he gets second thoughts once you both begin to bite down on the biscuit. little by little, the proximity between you two began to close, his heartbeat racing at the speed of light. thump thump thump. he could barely control his breathing and his palms were beginning to grow sweaty. by the time you’ve expected a kiss, he pulled away, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed.

his cheeks were burning hot and there was a discerning look on his face that screamed flustered. with all the talk he had before, maybe this reaction was better than the anticipated kiss. but where’s the fun in that? you pull out another pocky stick, putting it between your lips for a second time with a devilish grin. you’re killing him, prefect.

ace, cater, ruggie, epel, sebek

A LOSER

had to think long and hard about playing. not cause he didn’t want to, but because he knows he’s going to humiliate himself in front of you.

so how did he find himself standing in front of you, with a pocky in his mouth, inching closer and closer to your face after each passing second? this. is. bad. he’s actually going to fail and look like a godforsaken fool. is his face red? it’s red isn’t it? he should’ve known better. not even halfway, he backs up, covering the lower half of his face with his hand.

please forgive him, but he might just DIE and EXPLODE if he hadn’t done what he just did. it’s not just about his safety, it’s about yours too. please don’t tease him he’s already so embarrassed for being a wimp.

he’s already weak in the knees just being beside you, kissing you would be a whole nother story.

deuce, azul, idia

A FUCKING TEASE

another smug one. except this one has plans to win and actually stick to it. rather than just standing in front of you, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. you hesitate for a moment, taken aback by his bold actions.

the game grew intense, his eyes staring daggers into your own. you’re not even sure if he was blinking (he wasn’t). he took in your reaction, engraved it in the back of his mind, and plans to replay these moments like they were a cinematic masterpiece. just when you were about to pull away, his lips meet yours, sharing a breathtaking kiss.

your face was warm and wore an expression of shock. he loved it. ah, ah, ah, not so fast prefect. technically that was a tie! what’s a game without a winner? looks like another round is in order..

jade, jamil, rook, lilia

SOMEHOW A WORSE TEASE

pocky game? why would we want to do that when he could just do this?

cupping your cheek, he leans over and places a chaste kiss on your lips. it was a gentle kiss, contrasting with the way his hands traveled down to your waist, holding my you firmly in place. his eyes bored into you, enjoying your shock. he was smug. so smug. you could feel him smiling against your lips, leaning in closer and closer til you finally had the opportunity to push him away.

he only smirked in return, letting you go, grabbing a pocky and walking away as if nothing happened.

punch him. you wanted to punch him.

leona, jade, floyd, jamil, vil

A/N: jamil was self indulgent ngl

date published: 11/11/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[tbaluver]

hello! I hope you're having a nice day ✨

can I request LADS men reaction to MC sending them videos of their baby like it's either them saying their first words or anything adorable since the men are away from home for quite a while and MC and their baby misses them ehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Sending Them Baby Videos When They're Away- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff c/w: for sylus there's mention of him using his evol to x_x someone, no gore tho a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this was such a cute concept to write and i had to write this immediately (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) ‧º but i dunno if i did this justice so if it didnt, you alr know just pretend this doesn't exist ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways them as papas are such a cute concept i have so much of it in my drafts that i'll post soon ): enjoy reading and have a nice day or night anonnie ! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He was sent away for a mission for a couple days due to fluctuations of Wanderers in the area. Unfortunately if he was by himself, it wouldn’t have taken days but his teammates were dragging him down.

His phone chimes, signaling a notification from you. Opening his phone he sees a video you had sent him.

“Rahhh!!” Your son squeals, hitting his toy sword at your plushies that you both won a couple years ago. Your laughter was in the background, making his lips tug into a smile. He missed you both as he watched the video. He was quick to text you back.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: is he protecting mommy

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: it seems i have taught him well

He clicked off his phone, determination bursting through him. He wants to go back home. The warmth of your laughter and the sight of your son, drove him forward. This mission dragged on way too long, he was going to finish this himself.

He moved swiftly, slashing his sword with precision. The hours flew by as well as the number of Wanderers. Without any word to his teammates from the mission, he headed out. He couldn’t wait to see the look on you and your son's face when he walked through the door.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎:  i’m on my way home now. does our son need a partner to protect you?

Zayne:

Zayne isn’t easily distracted except when it comes to you and a box of macaroons. Now if it was you and a box of macaroons that would be a deadly combo.

During his meetings or when he’s about to head into a surgery, he always lets you know if he’s occupied so you know he won’t be able to reply right away. But right after all of that is over, he’ll immediately check his phone for you and ignore any of his notifications.

But when he’s in his office, the moment he receives a message from you, he can’t help but glance away from the reports he needs to file or send over to the nurses. Your messages always pull him in no matter what.

He unlocks his phone and is instantly met with another cute video of your baby daughter. She’s wearing his freshly clean white coat, which she had pulled from the laundry basket. She’s also wearing his oversized shoes that are comically too big for her tiny feet. “Papa!” She squeals, her face lighting up with a silly smile as she looks into the camera.

A soft laugh escapes his lips and he can’t help but replay the video a couple more times, his heart melting each time. It’s as if he can hear her giggles through the screen. With a wide smile curling up on his lips, he texts you back.

☃︎ ♡: How adorable. I think we need to get her one that’s her size

☃︎ ♡: I have one more break after I finish this report. I can call you both when I finish.

☃︎ ♡: I’ll finish up my work quickly so I can get home sooner.

Rafayel:

He didn’t want to be at this art exhibition, or quite frankly any art exhibition if you weren’t there. All he could think about was being home with you and the babies. Leaving them behind felt like one of the hardest things he could ever do.

You sent him a cute and chaotic video while he was away. “Quick, show daddy what you just did!” you exclaimed, as you aimed the camera at your baby waving a crayon clumsily in their tiny hands while you cheered with enthusiasm. “Glub! gub gub!”

He couldn’t help but let out a wide smile, his little baby was going to be just like their papa, an artist in the making and even better they were learning Glubglubnese. The video ends up with your other baby blowing bubbles to their sibling and they start wailing.

Watching the video, his heart ached with longing for his family. He was a father. He was your husband and he shouldn’t have to miss out on all these precious moments he has wanted with you for a long time. He wanted to be there in person and experience the joy with you.

He texts you while making long strides to the exit, ignoring all the reporters and critics that tried to approach him.

𓆟:  tell them to stop being cute until i get back

𓆟: cutie im on my way

𓆟: i miss you and my little glub glubs

𓆟: getting the fastest plane ticket there rn

𓆟: see you soon cutie ( ˘ ³˘)

Sylus:

He was away for another business deal for a couple of days, a business deal that shouldn’t have taken this long and Sylus was getting irritated. “Mr. Sylus, we’re really sorry! Please give us a couple more days! We don’t know what happened to half of the inventory!” The man begged with desperation on his face but Sylus did not have the time for a couple more days.

Before Sylus could respond, his phone chimed with a familiar notification. He raises a finger, signaling for a moment while Luke and Kieran keep the restricted men distracted.

Opening his phone, he was met with an adorable video of your baby daughter. She was dressing up Mephisto in her doll clothes, her giggles flooding through the speakers of his phone. “Caw....” Mephisto caws defeatedly, his head drooping down. “Caw! caw!” Your daughter squeals, her laughter and yours was infectious as she lifts him up in the air, dashing around the living room with pure joy.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches the video. Once he clicked off his phone, a sigh escaped his lips. His heart ached with so much longing for you both and he couldn’t bear missing even more precious moments with you and your baby girl.

As Luke and Kieran snicker, stepping aside, crimson swirls began to surround the men, slowly suffocating them until they vanished into thin air.

“Send their team another warning. We’re going home.”

𓅪: The business deal is finally finished. I apologize for the wait, sweetie.

𓅪: I’ll call you both before I get on the plane. I hope I didn't miss much.

𓅪: I'll pick up more doll clothes for her on my way back.

Once he was in his private jet he couldn’t wait to have you and his baby girl in his arms again.

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 2

paige x azzk

word count: 7.1k

a/n: just wanted to get this out before i got too busy this weekend. kind of moves the story forward a little bit but not much lol. let me know what you think if you can 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

Azzi didn’t see Paige again for about two weeks.

Not that she was counting. That would be weird…right?

The Sparks’ starting shooting guard wouldn’t admit to anyone—not even herself—just how often the blonde had crossed her mind in that time. How many random moments she spent wondering what Paige did when no one was watching. If she ever took a day off. If she had any hobbies that didn’t involve punching something until her knuckles were raw.

She told herself it was just a casual curiosity. That it was normal to think about someone who barely acknowledged your existence but still managed to leave an impression. It was the—your mind craving what it can’t have kind of thing.

Once on their way to a game in Seattle, Azzi had asked Cam about her. Just in passing, trying to keep it casual. Cam had glanced up from her phone, smiled a little as she thought about her sister, and rattled off the usual—Paige liked her space, didn’t go out much, trained more than she slept and that she just had her weekly lunch date with her the day prior.

That was it. No further elaboration. No insight.

So when Cam mentioned that Paige would be in Dallas for All-Star weekend, Azzi wasn’t about to admit the small wave of anticipation that washed over her. Or the stupid little jolt of excitement that followed.

Because she hadn’t forgotten that house in the hills. Or the girl with the blue eyes and quick hands who didn’t smile but had somehow still managed to get under her skin.

…

As soon as someone stepped into the arena for All-Star weekend all they would notice were the bright lights, cameras flashing, and fans on their feet. Azzi had just taken her warm-up shots for the three-point contest and a towel was now slung over her neck as she walked back toward the sideline with a bottle of water in hand.

Her eyes moved toward the tunnel entrance when she heard Cam’s laugh cut through all of the noise. Rickea was next to her, clearly having just said something that had Cam laughing. A couple of their teammates trailed behind, but Azzi didn’t fully process which ones they were. Because Paige was trailing slightly behind Cam and Rickea and Azzi had to do a double take.

She didn’t have on sweatpants and a hoodie. Instead, Paige had on baggy low-rise pants that showed the band of her boxers and a black tank top that clung to her skin perfectly, revealing the lines of her stomach muscles. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and a simple silver cross chain sparkled at her neck. She had silver huggies in her ears and rings on a few of her fingers. The contrast made Azzi freeze for just a second, because damn—she looked good.

Azzi had known Paige had a nice face; everyone with eyes did. A sharp jaw and pretty eyes, light freckles if you looked close enough. But Azzi had only ever seen her in gym clothes. This version was attractive in a completely different way.

Azzi blinked, forcing her gaze away, her heart skipping once before she reached for her towel again to wipe her face—like that would distract her. It didn’t. Her hands felt just a little warmer now.

Eventually, during a lull before the contest started, Azzi walked toward the sideline where her teammates were gathered. She greeted them with quick hugs, some of them teasing her about bets placed for her to win.

Eventually her eyes drifted to Paige. She was standing up near the back, hands in her pockets, Paige gave her a once-over, expression unreadable as always before giving her a simple nod. “Wassup.”

Azzi arched her eyebrow, her smile making an appearance. “You came for the show?”

Paige’s head tilted slightly. “That's what we’re calling it?”

Azzi stepped a little closer to hear her over the noise, crossing her arms. “Well, I didn’t come here to lose.”

Paige’s eyes flicked over her face, lingering for a second longer than before when they made eye contact. “Let’s hope the ball agrees.”

Azzi laughed. “That almost sounded like encouragement.”

“Wouldn’t call it that,” Paige replied dryly.

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. “So you won’t have a problem putting a little bet on the table then? Seems like that’s what everyone’s doing.”

Paige blinked at her in confusion. “A bet?”

“Mhm.” Azzi didn’t break eye contact. “When I win, you have to get a drink with me.”

Paige didn’t blink. “I don’t drink once I have a fight scheduled.”

Azzi smirked. “Alright. I’ll get a drink—and you can sit there and pretend to enjoy yourself.”

A breath passed between them. Paige’s gaze finally lifted back up to meet hers, unreadable as always. “And if you lose?”

Azzi shrugged, eyes a little bright. “You tell me.”

Paige watched her for a moment, considering her options. “You do a workout with me.”

Azzi’s smile grew. “Perfect, so I win either way.”

“You do?”

Azzi tilted her head to the side slightly in a flirtatious way, her gaze softening. “Either I get you out or I get you alone. Win win.” With that she turned and walked back toward the court.

Paige just shook her head, lips pressing together like she was fighting off something—maybe a smirk, maybe a sigh.

Paige looked over at Cam, her voice dry. “What’s with your friends flirting with me?”

Cam just shrugged, looking at something on her phone. “You’re weirdly their type, apparently.”

Rickea leaned around Cam with a hand on her chest. “Nobody can replace me though, right, Paigey-poo?”

Paige didn’t even look in her direction. “A fly could replace you.”

Rickea gasped dramatically, hitting Cam’s shoulder. “Did you hear that? She’s so disrespectful.”

Cam laughed. “You know that’s just how she says she loves you.”

Paige shook her head, but her jaw relaxed just slightly, her eyes moving to Azzi as she took her position on the court.

Round one passed without much drama—Azzi setting the tone as soon as she stepped on the court for her turn. Her form was smooth and consistent. Rack after rack, shot after shot, she barely missed. By the time she reached the final ball, the crowd was on their feet and it was obvious to everyone she’d be advancing.

Rickea, Cam, and Rae were up and yelling before the buzzer even sounded. “That’s my shooter!” Cam shouted, hands cupped around her mouth. Rickea was clapping so hard it echoed, while Rae jumped and hollered, almost spilling someone’s drink beside her.

Paige didn’t move much. She just sat in her seat, one leg crossed over the other, a bottle of water balanced in her lap. Her expression stayed unreadable, but her eyes never left the court.

After her turn Azzi sat with her warm up jacket unzipped, bouncing one knee as the next shooter lined up. She wasn’t really watching—at least not the court. Cam and Rae had walked over to talk to her in between her turn.

Her gaze drifted again, pulled without permission to the row of seats across the court where Paige sat, arms draped over the back of Cam’s empty chair like she had nothing in the world to care about.

Until someone smacked the back of her head.

Azzi blinked in shock but Paige didn’t even flinch knowing exactly who it was.

It wasn’t until the woman—Azzi recognized her after a second, DiJonai—stepped around the chair and stood in front of Paige with her arms open expectantly that Paige finally moved. She shook her head, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her mouth, and pushed herself up. She threw one arm lazily around DiJonai’s shoulders, pulling her in for a quick hug.

DiJonai said something that made Paige huff a laugh—one of those small ones that looked more like exhaling her amusement than expressing it.

Azzi tilted her head. She didn’t notice she was staring until Cam leaned down near her ear. “Careful,” Cam said quietly, so no one else could hear. “You’re gonna make it obvious.”

Azzi glanced up at her, lips twitching. “I’m just studying the competition.”

“Nai’s definitely not competition.” Cam said casually before she fully processed Azzi’s words. Then she pulled back slightly, her eyebrows raised. “Pause. Competition?”

Azzi shrugged, casually. “Maybe.”

Cam stared at her for a moment, long enough that Azzi met her gaze. Then came the slight shift—her shoulders straightening, ‘big-sister’ mode taking over.

“Wait, let’s get one thing clear Az—”

Azzi held up a hand, laughing. “Relax. I’m not trying to fuck are with your sister’s head.”

Cam narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything.

“I just wanna get to know her,” Azzi added, this time without any sarcasm.”

Cam studied her a moment, then finally said. “Just don’t come crying to me when she disappears on you for three days and pretends it’s normal.”

Azzi grinned. “Noted.”

Cam leaned back in her seat with a quiet scoff. “And you better come correct. She’s my sister so no matter what the situation is I’m going to be on her side. ”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Once the conversation settled Azzi’s gaze drifted right back across the court—drawn in again without even meaning to.

Dijonai had taken the seat beside Paige, her posture relaxed. One leg was crossed over the other, her foot bouncing lightly, the outer curve of her knee pressing against Paige’s from the way Paige was taking up space—her legs wide, both arms draped loosely over the sides of the chairs next to her like she owned them.

Their conversation seemed to flow in low tones easily. What caught Azzi’s attention was the way Paige was talking. More than usual. Not animated, but more consistent, like she didn’t feel the need to censor herself around Dijonai. She still wasn’t look directly at her, gaze mostly ahead or on the court, but every now and then, when Dijonai said something that almost pulled a laugh out of her, Paige’s mouth would twitch at the corner—one of those rare flashes of expression Azzi had been waiting to catch again.

It didn’t seem flirty but then again it did seem a little more intimate for Paige.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, watching the scene unfold with curious eyes. Just observing the scene.

Then Paige’s eyes flicked over to her and she caught Azzi looking.

Their gazes locked across the space, a weird static humming between them. Paige didn’t glance away. She just held the look, seemingly reading Azzi in the same way that the brown eyed girl had just been doing.

Azzi raised a single eyebrow, challenging the silent conversation.

Paige didn’t smile. Didn’t frown either. She just looked for another second—and then slowly turned her attention back to Dijonai, as if the moment hadn’t happened at all.

"You're still talking too much,”" she said dryly, leaning back further in her seat. Her voice was calm. She didn’t need to look at Dijonai for her to know it wasn’t serious. Just Paige being Paige.

Dijonai bumped her knee against Paige’s with a mock offense. "And you're still pretending like you don’t like Dallas so here we are.”

Paige’s lips parted like she might answer, but her eyes drifted back to Azzi

She was still looking but bolder now. Like she wanted Paige to know she wasn’t hiding it.

Paige didn’t turn away again. Letting her gaze linger longer than it should’ve. Long enough for her brain to feel that subtle pull again. What the hell was she doing?

Dijonai said something else—something about the skills competition—but Paige didn’t really catch all of it.

“Mm,” she responded automatically, but her eyes didn’t leave Azzi.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, smiling a little. Nothing obvious. Just the tiniest invitation.

Paige swallowed, then finally shifted her attention back to Dijonai with a delayed blink. But even as she spoke, her thoughts were still across the court. “So wait what’d you say she did this time?”

Dijonai sighed, resting an elbow on the back of Paige’s seat as she leaned in a little. “She didn’t do anything wrong, technically. Just… she shuts down every time I bring up anything serious. It’s like dating a wall. She’s irritating.”

Paige nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch as her eyes scanned the court. “And you’re trying to get serious right. Settle in Dallas?”

Dijonai gave a dry laugh. “Exactly. Thank you, Confucius. Or however you say it.”

Paige let out a breath at her last sentence—almost a laugh. “Maybe she just need more time Nai.”

“Paige, she's literally had time. We been doing this for years. ” DiJonai leaned her head back, her knee pressing more firmly into Paige’s because of how Paige still had her legs spread out. “I’m not asking her to propose. I just want her to tell me if I’m wasting my time. Anything.”

“You tell her that?”

“I did. Got a bullshit ass ‘I’m hearing you’ and then she changed the subject.”

Paige finally glanced over. “Want me to talk to her?”

Dijonai laughs before saying, “Hell no. I won’t have a girlfriend when you’re done.”

Paige huffs a laugh at this.

Dijonai tilted her head before saying, “But look at you being all supportive and shit.”

“I have my moments.” But as she said that Paige’s eyes drifted to where Azzi was talking to Cam before she looked back down at her shoes.

Dijonai leaned forward a little bit and smirked. “You worried about me or ole girl who’s been staring at you since I sat down?”

Paige didn’t react. Just blinked once. “Cam’s friend?”

“Mmhm,” DiJonai said. “She got that ‘undivided attention’ look. She trying to make it clear she want you.”

Paige’s eyes had already wandered back to Azzi and she shook her head once. “Cam’’s friends always flirting with me.”

Dijonai leaned back with a grin. “Azzi look deadass, though.”

That earned her the rarest thing—Paige laughing, the blonde biting her bottom lip a little to stop the smile. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I noticed.”

The final round of the contest was louder. Brighter somehow, even with the same lights. The energy from the crowd had tripled. But to Azzi it all dimmed for a moment as she stepped behind the line to start shooting again.

Thousands of eyes tracked her every move, but somehow, she only felt two. She knew it was the blue ones. She felt them but they weren’t distracting. If anything, they just reminded her that she actually wanted to win the contest.

The moment she started she was moving with a mechanical ease. Her eyes stayed on the rim the entire time, her release time consistent as she moved through the racks. Once her final ball dropped through the net, she let her follow-through hand for a second longer than necessary. She had only missed two shots. After letting the cheers from the other players around her settle, Azzi's eyes cut toward Paige, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Across the court, Paige didn’t smile back but Azzi caught the way her chest shook slightly. A laugh, maybe. Quiet and held close to the chest like everything else about her.

Next to her, Dijonai narrowed her eyes at the blonde. “What was that about?”

Paige’s gaze didn’t move. “We got a bet.”

Dijona raised her eyebrows. “You have a bet?”

“Mm,” Paige hummed, like it barely mattered.

Once the contest wrapped and Azzi had won in a landslide she gave a very brief interview and was presented with the trophy that she didn’t care much about. She handed it to her manager and eventually, her feet carried her toward the edge of the court, where Paige and Dijonai were sitting in the middle of a conversation that slowed when she neared.

Azzi greeted Dijonai first with a kind smile, the kind of warmth that was for familiar players who'd shared the floor with her enough times to earn a mutual respect. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Dijonai replied, pulling her into a half hug. “Congrats.”

Azzi thanked her and her smile lingered before her eyes shifted to Paige.

Paige hadn’t moved much, still lounging like she had nowhere to be. But her eyes were already on Azzi when she looked over.

“So…I win.”

Paige blinked, nodding slightly. “Yeah. You did.”

Azzi smirked, stepping in just a touch closer, lowering her voice. “I don’t get a good job? Only missed twice, and not even a pat on the back?”

Paige glanced at her, just the corner of her mouth twitching. “You get a drink with me. Worth more than a pat on the back.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “You’re really committing to the whole emotionally unavailable bit, huh?”

Paige took a breath, eyes flicking down to Azzi’s shoes before dragging back up. “You’re the one who wanted to bet. Don’t start acting like you need compliments now.”

Azzi leaned her weight onto one leg, arms crossed loosely. “Maybe I just like hearing you talk.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, then asked, “That why you were staring?”

Azzi’s smile grew, but her voice stayed quiet. “Maybe. You gonna start keeping count or something?”

Paige didn’t respond the way she knew Azzi wanted her to, didn’t smirk, didn’t frown. Just let out a short breath through her nose and said, “Tell me when and where.”

Azzi tilted her head again, like she was studying something. “Tomorrow night. I’ll find somewhere quiet.”

Paige gave the faintest nod. “Text Cam.”

Azzi’s eyes sparkled, and she leaned in just a little. “You’re not gonna give me your number?”

Paige stood up casually. “I don’t give my number to strangers.”

Azzi squinted her eyes, her lips tugging into something between a smirk and a pout. “I’m a stranger?”

Paige’s eyes flicked over her face. “I don’t know your favorite color.”

“Pink,” Azzi answered without hesitation.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t make us friends.”

“Guess I have some work to do then.”

Before Paige could reply, Dijonai stood back up, brushing down her skirt. “Can you come with me? I gotta go get ready for the skills challenge in the back.”

Paige gave her a quick nod, then looked at Azzi one more time. “Tell Cam to give you my number.”

And with that, she turned and walked off, leaving Azzi standing there with her arms slightly crossed and a smile tugging at her lips.

…

Azzi [2:08 PM]:

so about that drink…

where’s your favorite spot in dallas?

Paige [2:14 PM]:

i don’t go out like that

you can pick

Azzi [2:16 PM]:

hope you like rooftops and overpriced appetizers

Paige [2:20 PM]:

sounds like you googled “places in dallas to impress a girl”

Azzi [2:21 PM]:

and it’s clearly working since you’re still texting me

7:30?

Paige [2:22 PM]:

send the address

i’ll meet you there

…

Later that night Azzi stepped into the rooftop lounge just as the sun began to dip behind the skyline, casting a glow across the space. Her shirt was cropped—black with just the right cut to hint at the abs beneath. She had on high-waisted jeans and her hair was pulled half up, half down, her soft curls falling just past her shoulders. There was something easy and confident about the way she moved through the crowd, like she belonged anywhere she went.

Paige didn’t look over right away, but the second she felt her presence, her eyes flicked to her—sweeping over Azzi’s figure a little slowly. She greeted her before turning her attention back to the bar in front of her.

Azzi slid onto the stool beside her, shoulder brushing Paige’s for a second before she leaned her elbows on the bar. “You always look this thrilled to be out, or is it just for me?”

Paige didn’t look over. “Depends who I’m out with.”

Azzi grinned. “So...you like the place? I picked it just for you.”

Paige gave the space a once-over. Exposed brick walls, low lighting, music just under the noise of conversation. “Didn’t peg you for the moody rooftop type.”

Azzi shrugged. “Multifaceted.”

They sat in a comfortable beat of silence before Azzi leaned in slightly. “Soo is this the part where I pretend to enjoy myself?”

Paige’s lips twitched, barely. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “You’re not gonna entertain me at all?”

Paige gave her a sidelong glance. “You invited me here, remember?”

“That’s true.” Azzi swirled the ice in her water with her straw. “I figured you’d at least try to keep up. Thought you were competitive.”

Paige exhaled a quiet breath. “What—you used to women falling all over you or something?”

“Yes, actually.” Azzi said without thinking about it. Then, with a tilt of her head, she added, “You’re not?”

Paige looked at her. “What do you think?”

Azzi let her eyes sweep over Paige for a second—deliberately slow on purpose. “I think if they’re not, they’re definitely missing out.”

Paige’s eyebrow arched slightly, a small scoff escaping her lips as she turned back to the bar. “You don’t stop, huh?”

Azzi just smiled and swirled the straw in her drink, watching Paige over the rim of her glass. “So…you like hitting people for a living?”

Paige let out a short laugh through her nose. “Something like that.”

Azzi leaned her elbow on the bar, chin resting in her hand. “You ever think about why?”

Paige’s gaze dropped to her water for a moment, fingers tapping lightly against the glass. “It’s quiet,” she said finally. “Everything goes still. You physically can���t think about anything else while you're there. Just…them or you.” She shrugged lightly.

Azzi nodded slowly, studying her. “So it’s like peace in chaos.”

Paige didn’t respond right away, but her eyes flickered with something—recognition maybe. “Sure.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, head tilted slightly, saying nothing.

Paige’s eyebrow lifted. “What’s that about?”

Azzi blinked innocently. “What?”

“You,” Paige said. “Always looking at me.”

“Well, one—you’re nice to look at. Two—still trying to figure out how to make you smile.”

Paige looked at her again, more direct than before. “What if I just give you one right now?”

Azzi shook her head, a grin spreading. “Wouldn’t be genuine. And I’m not a cheater.”

That pulled a soft chuckle from Paige. “That so?”

“Mmhm,” Azzi said, folding her arms on the bar. “I want to earn it.”

Paige tilted her head, eyes flicking over her. “You always work this hard?”

Azzi shrugged. “Only when I think the reward’s worth it.”

At these words Paige leaned back slightly, arms crossed as she looked at her like she was trying to figure her out—maybe for the first time, maybe not. “You don’t even know me.”

Azzi’s voice softened. “Then tell me something I don’t know.”

Paige took a long breath, eyes flicking down for a second before lifting again. “Look…if you think I’m some project or sum,” she said, her tone calm but slightly tight. “Or if you got this weird fixation on tryna fix me—I’m not interested…truthfully. I’m good.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. She just watched her quietly before saying, “Who said anything about fixing you?”

Paige shrugged, but it wasn’t careless—it was careful. “You’re just…too interested in tryna get me to talk. Smile. Open up.”

Azzi let out a small laugh, not mocking her, it was lighter, more like surprise. “That’s because I’m attracted to you, Paige.” She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Paige blinked once, eyes steady on her. “Like I said. You don’t even know me.”

Azzi leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the bar. “That’s kind of the point of talking, isn’t it?”

Something flickered across Paige’s face—quick, almost gone before it could land.

Azzi decided to add, “I’m not trying to fix you. I just…like what I see. And I’m curious about you.”

Paige was quiet for a long second. “Curiosity gets people in trouble.”

Azzi smiled. “Only when it’s not mutual.”

Paige tilted her head slightly, seemingly unimpressed. “You think it’s mutual?”

“I think you wouldn’t be here with me if you weren’t at least curious.”

Paige let the words hang there for a moment before replying, dry as ever, “What if I’m just kind?”

Azzi laughed and gave her a look showing that she was unconvinced by the words. “You don’t strike me as the type to entertain people out of kindness.”

Paige’s lips twitched. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

There was a pause and something crackled in the silence between them.

Azzi leaned back just slightly, deciding to tease Paige some more. “You going to keep pretending like you don’t like me, or should I give you more material to work with?”

Paige’s gaze stayed fixed on the bottles behind the bar. “I don’t know what I think about you yet.”

Azzi smiled like she’d been waiting for the honesty. “Well, I can help you with that. If you let me.”

Paige exhaled lightly, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. “That so?”

“Mmhmm. I’m good with people. Real good if they let me be.”

“Mm.” Paige’s fingers tapped once against her glass of water. “You this confident with everyone or just me?”

Azzi tilted her head. “Just you, lately.”

Paige didn’t look over, but the corner of her mouth curved up slightly. “Lucky me.”

“You are,” Azzi replied, her tone casual, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

They fell into a pause. It wasn’t awkward—just space to breathe. Then Azzi added, “What would I have to do to get you to relax for real?”

That got Paige to look over. “I am relaxed.”

Azzi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Sure…What do you do for fun?”

“Hit a bag.”

Azzi rolled her eyes lightly. “Outside of that.”

Paige thought for a moment before saying. “Cardio.”

Azzi let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “You are exhausting.”

Paige just shrugged, unapologetic.

“Alright,” Azzi leaned on the bar, turning slightly toward her. “If you couldn’t work out, couldn’t hit a bag or do any training for a day—just one—what would you do?”

Paige thought for a second. “Prolly watch basketball.”

Azzi perked up, smiling. “See? We’re getting somewhere. Why basketball?”

Paige’s eyes dropped to the rim of her glass. “I grew up watching Cam play.”

Azzi nodded, quietly interested. “How’d your families meet?”

“Our dads were best friends and lived down the street for each other,” Paige said. “So we grew up together.”

Azzi’s expression softened. “That makes sense. You two definitely have that annoying sibling vibe.”

Paige just hummed in agreement, eyes still on the bar.

Azzi didn’t fill the silence right away. She just let it hang there, like she was getting used to the rhythm of Paige’s pauses.

Then, casually she asked, “Are you single?”

“I wouldn’t be at a bar with another woman if I wasn’t.”

Azzi let out a low laugh. “That’s fair. Just had to make sure.”

Paige was already looking ahead again but she already knew what made Azzi ask her that.

“DiJonai is prolly my best friend,” Paige said plainly.

Azzi tilted her head, eyes still on her. “What makes you think I was asking because of her?”

Paige let out the faintest breath—maybe a laugh, maybe just air. “You haven’t seen anyone else to make you ask.” She paused, then added, “She’s a less annoying version of Cam. Only less than Cam because she’s in Dallas most of the year and Cam pops up at my house like it's hers.”

Azzi nodded as she listened. “So…has anything ever happened there?”

That pulled Paige’s gaze. Her eyes flicked to Azzi, and this time, the edge of her mouth curved—barely. “You ask a lot of questions,” she said. After a second, she spoke again. “To answer—no. She’s like my big sister. Spent all-star weekend complaining to me about her love life actually.”

Azzi leaned back with a quiet “Mmhmm,” her smile growing just a bit.

Paige gave a slight nod, but didn’t say anything—just let the moment settle. Paige’s eyes drifted toward the bar, then to the seat in front of Azzi. “You don’t have a drink,” she said, a statement more than a question.

Azzi glanced down at her water, then back up. “Tequila pineapple,” she said with a small grin. “Unless this is some kind of setup.”

Paige didn’t rise to the bait. She simply caught the bartender’s attention with a subtle nod in Azzi’s direction.

Azzi turned toward the bartender to order, but her eyes flicked back to Paige with a quiet amusement. “Didn’t think you were chivalrous.”

Paige kept her eyes forward. “I’m not.”

When the bartender brought Azzi’s drink over, he lingered a second longer than necessary, his gaze settling on Paige. “Where do I know you from?”

Paige looked up at him, her expression blank as ever. “Nowhere.”

He squinted like he was unconvinced. “Nah, I swear I’ve seen you before…”

She shook her head. “Don’t think so.”

The bartender looked like he might press again, but something in Paige’s expression—or lack of one—shut it down. He let out a soft “huh” before walking off.

Azzi sipped her drink, watching Paige over the rim of her glass. “You sure you’re not famous?”

Paige didn’t look at her. “Positive.”

Azzi hummed, amused at Paige’s clear disdain for the topic. “Could’ve sworn I watched you in a fight once. Women were basically throwing their clothes at you.”

Paige’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Probably somebody else with blonde hair and blue eyes again.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You saying you don’t get that kind of attention?”

“I’m saying I ignore that kind of attention.”

Azzi grinned. “So what kind do you pay attention to?”

Paige finally turned her head toward her again. “Apparently the ones who don’t stop asking questions.”

Azzi lifted her glass again, smirking before she took a sip. “Sounds like I can keep your attention then.”

Paige didn’t deny it—just leaned back in her seat as she replied, “You’re still talking to me, aren’t you?”

That earned a soft laugh from Azzi, who took it as her cue to keep going.

The next forty five minutes passed in a rhythm that didn’t feel rushed or forced—it was almost steady. Azzi did most of the talking, not in an overbearing way, but with the kind of ease that made silence feel optional. She told Paige about growing up with younger siblings, how she hated running unless it involved a basketball, and her low-key obsession with romance novels. Paige offered small comments, dry humor, the occasional question that showed she was listening even if her body language stayed relaxed and unreadable the entire time.

Azzi ordered a second tequila and pineapple, then a third—this time switching it to cranberry after Paige made a sarcastic joke about how she probably ruined Sponebob’s house at this point. Azzi raised an eyebrow, grinning as she took a sip of her new drink.

“Happy now?” she teased.

Paige’s expression barely shifted, but her chest moved with a quiet laugh. “Didn’t know you cared to make me happy.”

Azzi leaned in slightly, her brown eyes dancing. “I aim to please.”

Paige stared at her for a moment—fighting the urge to lick her lips. “Crazy thing to aim for.”

Azzi smiled. “Only if I’m not good at it.”

Before Paige could respond, the bartender reappeared, snapping his fingers as if something had just clicked. “Nah I remember now—you’re that UFC fighter who broke that girl’s jaw!”

Paige’s gaze barely lifted away from Azzi. “Am I?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, grinning. “I just watched the video—man, that shit was crazy. Her shit was fucked up me and my buddies were talkin about it for weeks.”

Paige didn’t respond. Just nodded once slowly.

“You got that real killer instinct for real. I’ve seen a lotta knockouts, but that one? Different. You training for something now?”

Paige’s jaw moved slightly like she might answer, but she just shook her head once.

The guy kept going, oblivious. “That right hook? Crazy brutal. You always fight like that?”

Another slight shrug. Her eyes stayed on her glass.

“Damn,” he muttered, clearly impressed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead messing with you. You ever think about teaching classes or something?”

Azzi’s head tilted as she watched Paige—curious about the interaction but staying quiet.

Paige let the silence stretch before finally saying, flatly, “Not really.”

The bartender leaned his forearms on the bar, still animated. “Why not? I’d definitely take a class—no hesitation.”

Not a people person.”

He laughed. “Nah, that’s fair.” He tossed his towel over his shoulder. “You just got that look, y’know? Like you don’t fuck around. Gotta be wild, getting in the cage like that.”

Paige gave the faintest nod, eyes still forward.

The guy lingered a little too long, clearly trying to stretch the moment. “So how long you been training? Since you were a kid prolly right?”

She entertained it—barely. “A while.”

“Yeah you definitely could teach a thing or two then. Especially to guys like me. Willing to learn you know,” he laughed.

Paige turned her head toward him. “You’re kinda interrupting our conversation.”

That got him. He blinked, then looked over at Azzi like he’d just remembered she was there. “Oh—my apologies, sweetheart. I didn’t mean no harm. Just got a little excited to talk, that's all.”

Azzi offered a polite smile. “It’s okay.” Her tone was smooth, but her eyes flicked back to Paige.

Once the bartender walked off, Azzi swirled her drink, then looked over at Paige with a smile. “I think you might actually be famous.”

Paige tilted her head slightly. “I think you might like attention.”

Azzi laughed softly, leaning her elbow on the bar. “Only when it’s yours pretty.”

That got Paige to glance at her, just for a second, before her gaze returned to the glass of water in front of her.

Azzi caught it. “You never react to compliments.”

Paige didn’t look back. “You want me to react.”

Azzi smirked. “So you are playing hard to get.”

“No,” Paige replied dryly. “Not in the business of satisfying people just for the hell of it.”

Azzi let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?”

Paige turned toward her slightly. “Work for what?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. “You.”

Paige didn’t blink. She just looked at her evenly for a long moment before lifting her glass of water and taking a sip. “I’m not a prize, Azzi.”

Azzi rested her chin on her hand, still smiling. “Didn’t say you were. Now can you tell me why you won’t accept my compliments?”

Paige's eyes flicked over to her. “You like bets, right?”

Azzi perked up slightly. “Yes.”

“If you can float around for the next month, I’ll accept your compliments.”

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted. “Why a month?”

Paige’s gaze dropped briefly to the condensation on her glass before answering. “I can get a little…tense closer to fight time, for lack of better words. Not everybody can handle that.” She gave a small shrug. “I’m not dense—I know it’s something I need to work on. But that’s where I’m at.”

Azzi faked a look of shock, hand to her chest. “This is you relaxed? Wow. Who would've thought.”

That drew the faintest curve at the edge of Paige’s mouth.

Azzi leaned in slightly. “Can I at least flirt?”

“If that floats your boat.”

Azzi smiled at that, pleased with the outcome. “It’s a bet, then. What do I get when I win?”

Paige looked at her. “You tell me. You’re the one winning apparently.”

There was a pause. Then Azzi said, “A date.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “A date?”

Azzi nodded once, holding her gaze. “Mhm.”

Paige hesitated just a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright bet.”

Azzi reached her hand out. Paige looked at it, but still shook her hand. “What’s this?”

“Shaking on being friends,” Azzi said. Then, after a slight pause, “For a month.”

Paige smirked, just barely. “Friends, huh.”

Azzi grinned. “Friends…For now.”

After another thirty minutes at the bar—Azzi nursing one last drink and the conversation never quite losing its playful edge. Once the two of them decided to call it a night Paige slid off her stool and pulled the keys for the rented car from her pocket. “I can drive you,” she said simply, already heading toward the door.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I can Uber.”

“Unnecessary,” Paige replied, opening the door and waiting.

The ride to Azzi’s hotel was quiet in a comfortable way. The Dallas lights flickered through the windshield as quiet music hummed through the speakers—nothing distracting, just enough to fill the space. When they pulled up to the curb of Azzi’s hotel, Azzi turned to her. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Paige nodded. “Goodnight, Azzi.”

Azzi smiled, lingering for just a second before stepping out. Paige didn’t drive away right away. She waited until Azzi was safely in the lobby, then reached for her phone.

She pulled up DiJonai’s contact.

Paige [10:17PM]:

where’s that gym u were telling me about?

The response came almost immediately with a dropped pin.

DiJonai [10:17PM]:

You want me to meet you?

Paige thought about it for half a second, thumbs hovering before she replied.

Paige [10:18PM]:

u don’t have to. just need to hit somethin. haven’t been in a gym today

DiJonai [10:18PM]:

I’ll meet you.

Paige liked the message, tossed her phone in the passenger seat after pulling up maps, and drove off.

When she got to the gym Paige sat in her car with the engine off, one arm draped over the steering wheel as she stared out at the empty lot. The gym looked exactly how she liked it—quiet, barely lit from the soft glow of streetlights bouncing off the windows. She didn’t move until DiJonai’s car pulled in beside her.

Paige stepped out and popped the trunk, pulling out a gym bag that had seen more miles than most people she knew. DiJonai stepped out of her car and put her hands in her hoodie pocket as they walked toward the entrance of the private gym.

“How was your date?”

Paige didn’t miss the side eye Dijonai threw her way. “Wasn’t a date.”

DiJonai just smirked and flicked on the lights as they walked in. The fluorescents buzzed overhead, illuminating the rows of heavy bags, speed bags, mats, and benches. As soon as the space lit up fully, Paige felt her body respond—her shoulders loosening, chest less tight. Like just seeing the setup gave her permission to exhale.

She glanced over at DiJonai as she walked toward a bench. “You wanna hit?”

DiJonai shrugged like it wasn’t a question. “Yeah.”

They settled across from each other on a bench, facing inward. Paige unzipped her bag, pulling out a pair of hand wraps. Without saying anything she motioned for DiJonai to give her one of her hands. DiJonai lifted one and Paige started wrapping her knuckles with ease as the two of them sat in silence.

As Paige tightened the wrap around DiJonai’s wrist, DiJonai gave her a look. “Okayyy…so how was your not date?”

Paige didn’t glance up, just shifted to grab DiJonai’s other hand, her eyes still focused on the wrap. “It was cool. Just talked.”

“About?”

“She asked me about fighting. Talked about basketball a little.” Paige paused for half a second. “She flirted nonstop.”

DiJonai’s eyebrows shot up at this, a grin spreading across her face. “A pretty girl was flirting with you all night, and you look like you’re in pain and dragged me to a gym. Please make it make sense.”

Paige motioned for DiJonai to flex her hand so she could finish the wrap. “Not sure if you heard,” she said dryly. “I’m fighting somebody who’s fucked up every person she’s stepped in the cage with.” She finally looked up, sarcasm laced in her voice. “So I’m sorry if I’m a little distracted.”

DiJonai dropped down into a deep quad stretch as Paige started wrapping her own hands.

“So how’d you respond to all the flirting?”

Paige gave a small shrug, eyes on the wrap. “Told her to give me a month, basically.”

DiJonai switched legs. “So you’re interested.”

Paige didn’t look up. “I’m not…not interested.”

“But?” DiJonai asked, already knowing there was one.

Paige let out a breath, securing the loop around her thumb. “I can’t wake up without thinking about what I can do that day to make sure I don’t get my shit rocked in a month.”

That made DiJonai laugh, it was a short real one. Not surprised or concerned. Just letting the subtle joke land.

And that’s what Paige loved about her—everyone else either flinched or tried to change the subject when she joked like that. DiJonai just let her say it and kept it moving.

“The money must’ve been nice,” DiJonai said, still stretching.

Paige hummed as she finished up her hand wrap. “1.5. 2 if I win.”

DiJonai stood up straight, shaking her head. “Damn. That’s crazy. I’ll make sure I send my invoice for the free therapy.”

Paige laughed as reached into her bag and pulled out two sets of gloves, tossing one to DiJonai without looking.

“Exactly, so I can’t really think about shit else right now even if I wanted to,” she said, flexing her fingers as she slid her gloves on.

DiJonai looked at her as she adjusted the velcro on her gloves. “That’s fair. You’re locked in. I get it.”

Paige nodded once. “Doesn’t leave much room for flirting and cute drinks, though.”

“Which is why you dragged me out of bed to punch something,” DiJonai said with a laugh.

“You volunteered, I said you didn’t have” Paige responded back, laughing too as she stepped toward the mat.

The two of them moved in sync, warming up—light footwork, shoulder rolls, stretching. One they were about to start hitting Paige circled her quietly, eyes scanning like she was a coach.

“Your stance is too narrow,” Paige said, gently nudging DiJonai’s front foot out with her own to widen it. “You’re gonna fold if someone comes at you heavy.”

DiJonai adjusted. “Didn’t know I signed up for a critique tonight.”

“You didn’t,” Paige said, with a small smile. “But I can’t help it.”

DiJonai laughed mumbling, “Control freak.”

Paige didn’t deny it—just nodded as she watched DiJonai hit the speed bag a few times before moving to her own bag, slipping into a rhythm that calmed her for the first time today.