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haihoneys · 14 days ago

Text

Good Vibes Only

Summary: The one where Yoongi finds his girlfriend’s stash of special toys and wants to play.

Word Count: 6,917

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut - absolute filth. y’all this is raunchy hahaha::: FaceTime sex/masturbation, overstim, cum play, a lot bit of pleasure-dom!Yoongi, degradation, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, mentions of a sub drop

——

Most people’s nightmares are filled with monsters or tragic events; ghosts and goblins or getting abducted by aliens or being trapped in horrible storms. But not for Y/N. No, her nightmares were filled with gawking crowds and hecklers as she stood on a stage in only her underwear. Sometimes it even involved her puking her guts up as the crowd roared with laughter. The horrid dream had plagued her since high school and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake it. Even now, years later, the mere thought of giving a presentation at work had nerves bubbling in her belly.

Giving actual presentations had her a nervous wreck for weeks in advance. The pure dread she felt as she stood in front of her colleagues, people who were technically her friends (except Bethany from accounting - Bethany could choke on a dick as far as Y/N was concerned), was insurmountable. Her hands would get clammy and her knees would be knocking against each other, a steady mantra of ‘I love my job’ looping through her head as everyone patiently sat and waited for her to begin.

Anxiety was gnawing at Y/N’s stomach as she sat at the desk in the corner of her living room, pouring over the notes for the presentation she had at work the following morning. It was a big one and if she nailed this pitch it meant she landed the new account. And that, in turn, could mean big things for her career-wise. Really big things. Like that corner office and pay raise she’d had her eye on for the past year. Honestly, those stakes made it all the more nerve-wracking.

With a frustrated groan she leaned back in her chair and scrubbed her hands over her face. She needed to talk to Yoongi. He always knew exactly what to say to get her out of her own head.

Unfortunately, he was in the middle of promotions in Japan. In the ten days he’d been gone, they had barely gotten a chance to speak to one another. Either she had a meeting or he was at an interview. Or she had an important business lunch or he was about to walk on stage. Their precious few spare moments just weren’t lining up in their favor.

It seemed that even their texting had been slow all day seeing as though she’d been pouring over her notes and he in a fanmeet with the other members.

When everyone finally called it a day and headed back to the hotel, Yoongi decided to take the opportunity to call Y/N. As disgustingly sappy as it was, he really missed the sound of her voice. Her smile. Her laugh. Just…her. She just had this way of soothing his nerves. Putting him completely at ease.

Being gone this long without having a chance to talk to her always caused his anxiety to ratchet up a couple of notches. It was starting to cause an actual physical tightness in his chest and he knew his friends were getting tired of his snappiness. He even swore he heard Jin grumble something about ‘a dose of bitch-be-gone’ under his breath the day before. Whatever that was.

Several hundred miles away, Y/N was pulled from her studying when her phone vibrated on the desk beside her. She snatched up the buzzing device, grateful for any excuse to take a break, and smiled at her boyfriend’s contact that appeared on the screen.

🥰yooyoo🥰

Are you free to FaceTime? We just got back to the hotel and I want to see you xx

sunshine☀️❤️

Yes! Give me just a sec get my laptop ready!

Absolute glee radiated through her at the thought of not only getting to speak to him but to be able to see his face. In her excitement, she swung around in her chair so quickly she nearly toppled out of it as she reached for the laptop tucked away in her work tote. Quickly regaining her balance, Y/N opened up her computer and just as it connected to the wifi, Yoongi’s FaceTime request came through. She couldn’t help the cheerful giggle that bubbled up in her throat at the sight of him.

“Hey, angel,” he greeted her. It was more of a yawn really, and she frowned at the deep purple smudges beneath his eyes. Before she could even open her mouth, he was laughing. “I know, I know. ‘I’ve got to get some rest.’ You don’t have to tell me.”

“Well, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.” She was pouting as she said it, concern dripping from her words.

Yoongi snorted. He hadn’t been sleeping. He felt like he was running off cigarettes and anxiety at this point. Even when he was able to catch even a few minutes of sleep here or there, they were fitful and often left him feeling more exhausted than before. “I sleep better when I’m with you.” He gave her a sleepy smile, his whole face going soft and warm as he looked her over. “How’s the presentation prep going?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose before launching into all her worries of how it could go wrong. His intention was to make her feel better, even offer to listen to her rehearse if she wanted. But as she continued to talk, his eyes started to lazily wander over her. She was wearing a t-shirt and one of his baggier cardigans. And the with way she had her leg propped up in the desk chair allowed for her skimpy choice of panties to be on full display.

It was wrong, not to mention rude, to be getting so turned on while his girlfriend was clearly upset but damn she just looked so pretty and he hadn’t seen her in so long.He knew he’d never hear the end of it but he just couldn’t help himself as his hand drifted down out of view of the camera. And as discretely as he could, he began to slowly palm himself over his sweats, his teeth biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning out at the friction.

But then she had to go and lean back to stretch over the back of her chair. Pebbled nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her shirt and Yoongi didn’t even realize he had moaned out a soft ‘fuck’ until she abruptly stopped talking. A hot blush crept up Yoongi’s neck and onto his cheeks once he saw that he’d been caught.

Busted.

Her eyebrows shot up damn near to her hairline, eyes wide as she realized what exactly her boyfriend was doing on the other end of the call. “Min Yoongi, are you jerking off while I’m talking to you about work?” she laughed as she questioned him, not daring to admit that just maybe the thought had turned her on a little bit.

‘Well, we might as well fully commit now’ he thought to himself as he sat up a little straighter against the headboard and smirked. “Not yet. Maybe you could help me out, hm?”

Always so straightforward, her boyfriend.

Blinking at his bluntness, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as his hand slipped out of view again. It always surprised her just how quickly his temperament could change when it came to bedroom matters.

To the outside world he was quiet and reserved, even somewhat standoffish. But behind closed doors, Min Yoongi was as freaky as they came. A little FaceTime sex was mild in comparison to some of their other escapades.

“Take your shirt off for me?” Yoongi asked her, the flush on his cheeks darkening and his voice growing even huskier than usual. “But leave my cardigan on.”

Always one to please, a sly grin pulled at the corner of her lips as she sat up straighter and did as she was asked. She leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through her hair. Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her bare chest, her nipples taunt from the air conditioning he knew she had blasting in her apartment. Goddamn he loved her tits.

He told her as much and she offered only a small smirk in reply as she slowly brought her hands up to cup her breasts, squeezing and pushing them together to emphasize her cleavage for his viewing pleasure. With her left hand she slowly began to pinch her nipple between her thumb and forefinger as her right slid down her stomach towards the waistband of her panties.

“You gonna touch yourself for me baby?” Yoongi said, an arrogant smirk plastered onto his flushed face. Cocky bastard.

The filthy words spurring her on, Y/N let her fingers drift over the silk crotch of her underwear, pausing to press against her clit. Her head lolled to the side as she dipped her hand into her panties, a breathy moan of Yoongi’s name spilling past her lips. A dark, damp spot was forming against the pink fabric, turning it almost translucent as her fingers worked slow circles against her clit. Yoongi’s pupils blew wide as he watched her, fumbling to shove his sweats down just enough. Once his cock was free he wrapped his hand around himself, his hips jerking upward into his fist.

“T-Take your panties off and show me that pretty pussy, baby,” he grunted as he tightened the grip he had on his cock.

Just as she stood from the chair to wiggle out of her underwear, there was a series of short, sharp knocks at Yoongi’s hotel room door. Eyes wide at the sudden disturbance, he cursed and fumbled with his phone as he tried to get his pants pulled back up. “Be right back,” he huffed as he hopped off the bed and went to answer the door.

All hope of continuing with their sexcapades vanished as Hobi’s muffled voice floated through the room.

Something about how they were about to have an impromptu team meeting about tomorrow’s schedules. Seconds later, Yoongi’s flushed face popped back up on screen.

“I have to go but I’ll call you back as soon as I get a chance.”

Annoyance was pulling his features tight, even as his bottom lip jutted out in a petulant pout. Even though the mood had effectively been ruined, she smiled and blew him a kiss. Cheesy as ever, Yoongi reached up to catch it and smacked his palm to his cheek.

She laughed again, the sound warm and breathy and sounding like home. “I love you! Talk to you later.”

A goofy grin broke out across his face as she said it. The words filling him with a soothing warmth from his toes all the way to the tips of his ears. “I love you too. And good luck with your pitch in the morning. You’re going to kill it, baby.”

Before she could reply there was more knocking at Yoongi’s door, his head snapping up towards it as it creaked open. She was quick to wrap the cardigan around herself as Jungkook stepped into view over Yoongi’s shoulder, telling him that he was going to be waiting for him in one of the manager’s rooms down the fall. “Shit, I have to go. Love you.”

The call disconnected and Y/N was left alone again. Her mind was too far away from her notes now to even consider going back to studying. She huffed out a breath, blowing the hair out of her face as she pushed back from her desk, the chair swiveling around in a lazy circle. Still in just her boyfriend’s cardigan and her underwear, she kept spinning around in the chair until a rather brilliant idea popped into her head.

She hopped up from her seat and made a mad dash for her bedroom, dropping to her knees on her preferred side of the bed to flip up the bed skirt. Hunched down on the ground, she blindly started patting around for the black photo box she kept tucked just past the edge of the bed frame.

——

sunshine☀️❤️

Yooyoo!!

sunshine☀️❤️

Oh my god I NAILED my presentation!!

sunshine☀️❤️

My manager even said the raise looked really promising!

🥰yooyoo🥰

I knew you could do it, baby. I’m so, so proud of you. We’re going out to celebrate as soon as I get home xx

——

Two torturously long weeks later, Yoongi was finally on his way home to her. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he boarded the private jet with the rest of his members and staff. He was used to being gone for long stretches of time but there was something about this particular trip that was making him extra antsy.

Yoongi just wanted to be home. In his own bed. With his girl in his arms. And maybe his cock buried in her warm, wet, goddamn perfect cunt -

Jungkook plopping down in the seat next to him startled Yoongi out of his thoughts, the former sighing loudly as he settled into the plush seat. He lulled his head to the side, throwing Yoongi a bright grin. “You and Y/N got plans when we get home? I know you’ve been dying to get back to her.”

Yoongi couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. “I can survive a couple weeks without seeing my girlfriend.”

There was a bright peel of laughter from the seat behind them, Hoseok’s voice

causing them to turn back to look at him. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You’ve been extra mopey ever since we left Seoul.”

He let out a little hmph and reached for his headphones. “You guys are just jealous you aren’t getting laid regularly.”

——

When they touched down on the tarmac later that day, the first thing he did was call her. Hearing her delighted squeal had him practically sprinting through the airport to the waiting SUV that would take him to Y/N’s apartment, completely ignoring the waiting fans and paparazzi that crowded the space.

The drive to her place was relatively short but Yoongi felt like he was about to come out of his skin. Every nerve felt like a fucking live wire. When the car finally pulled up to her building, his door was open, and he was stepping out before the vehicle had even come to a full stop.

Yoongi jogged up to the front door of her building and threw it open, beelining towards the bank of elevators at the rear of the lobby. He jabbed at the buttons, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the lift to take him up to her floor. It was so fucking slow. The damn thing always was but he swore today it was taking even longer just to piss him off.

The stainless steel doors finally slid open and he felt like he could breathe easier now. He was so close to her. He was almost -

Just as he reached her door, it flung open revealing her beaming face. “Yoongi!!”

Y/n threw her arms around his neck, crushing him to her so tight he thought she might strangle him. But honestly… what a way to go.

She pulled back just enough to start smothering his face in kisses, not stopping until he was giggling and swatting her away.

“Cmon,” he took her hands and drug her back inside her apartment, “let’s get inside before that mean old lady down the hall calls the front desk on us again.”

They spent the next several hours wrapped up in each other. Arms and legs tangled together as they sprawled across her sofa, as they poured over every detail the other had missed in the weeks he’d been gone.

Eventually, they found their way to her bedroom, moving through their nighttime routines with effortless ease as he told her about the sights they were able to visit on the last couple of days in Japan.

“We had a few extra minutes the other day so we decided to walk through this park next to the venue, right? And I saw the cutest dog, Y/N; seriously, I was trying to think of a way to bring him home. Hold on, I made Hoseok take a picture of me petting it so I could show you.” In his excitement to show her the photo, he fumbled his phone, and the device was suddenly flying through the air.

She couldn’t even begin to describe how it happened. One second his phone was firmly in his hand and the next it was being tossed around like a damn hacky sack, bouncing between his hands before finally clattering to the floor. The distinct ‘swoosh’ of it sliding under the bed and ‘thunk’ as it hit the wall had Y/N snorting out a bellyaching laugh.

Yoongi looked nothing short of flustered, his cheeks and ears going bright red, as he mumbled a soft ‘fuck’ and crouched down to look for his phone. The slippery little fucker had made its way all the way to Y/N’s side of the bed. She was still giggling as he came around the bed and he shot her a playful sneer as he bent down again.

Flipping up the white cotton bed skirt, Yoongi started aimlessly patting around for his phone. But instead of the small metal and glass device, he found what felt like… a box, perhaps? Brows crinkled, he reached for it and sat back on his heels with his new discovery tucked in his grasp.

He looked up at her to find her nose stuck back in the book she had been reading earlier, a grin still on her face from all that laughter minutes before. “What’s this?”

Not looking up from her book, she waited on him to elaborate, “What’s what?”

Yoongi held the box up for her to see, eyes widening when its contents started to rattle around with the slight movement. He had an inkling what it was but he wanted to hear what she had to say about it. The look of pure horror she was wearing when she looked up was met with Yoongi’s shit-eating grin. Well that told him exactly what he wanted to know. With a swift, graceful movement, he jumped up and took a big step backward as she shot out of bed, making grabby hands in his direction.

“Min Yoongi, give that back. Now,” she said, her eyes wide and hands shaking as she reached out for it again, fully expecting him to be his gentlemanly self and just hand it over.

But she was wrong. Very wrong.

Absolutely delighted by his little game, Yoongi smirked down at her as he pulled the box to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, effectively locking it in place. “What’s in the box, Y/N?”

“Nothinggg.” The word was a drawn-out whine as she tried to lunge for it, only for him to dance away from her hands just as they brushed the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Yoongi was giggling at her like a little boy and held the box above his head as she pathetically attempted to get it back. “Oh, judging by this reaction, I think it is most definitely something.”

A wave of absolute mortification washed over her as she accepted her defeat. Groaning, she turned back toward the bed and flopped down face first to bury her head in the pillows. This must be how she died, she decided. From complete and total embarrassment.

Though she expected his pity, all she got was a sinful smirk as he dropped his arm back down to open the mystery box.

Bingo.

He riffled through the various toys and lubes, his smirk widening to a full-on grin as he pulled out a purple rabbit vibrator. He turned it on, testing out the different speeds and pulsing patterns.

The familiar buzzing sound had Y/N groaning again. In a desperate attempt to disappear completely, she pulled a pillow over her head praying the mattress would suddenly open up and swallow her whole. “Dear god, Yoongi, please put it back in the box. I’m literally begging you.”

A sardonic chuckle replaced the humming of the vibrator as he switched it off. The torturous embarrassment was finally coming to an end. Or so she thought.

“When was the last time you used that one, baby?”

She peeked out from under the pillow, biting down hard on her bottom lip as heat rushed up her neck and cheeks. There was no way in hell she was playing into this.

At her silence, he looked up at her and gave her little smirk. “Awe, sweet girl,” he cooed, his voice dripping with condescending mirth, “no need to be shy.”

“A few days ago. When you had to get off the FaceTime,” her admission was muffled by the pillow she had returned to her face to. But Yoongi heard it clear as day.

He was quiet long enough that she started to wonder if he was angry. Jealous even of the rather impressive collection she had amassed over her adult years. She knew from first-hand experience that most men would be.

But then she felt the bed dip and she shyly peeked over her shoulder to find Yoongi sitting at the foot of the bed. That damned vibrator back in his hands.

He was cooking something up in that beautiful head of his. And Y/N didn’t know if she should be excited or scared.

Rolling onto her back, she leaned forward on her elbows and watched with wide eyes as he turned the vibrator on its lowest setting. The look on his face was positively feral as he inched up the bed a bit, pushing her legs further apart to accommodate him. He put a hand on her chest and pushed her back down before he took the very tip of the vibrator and ran it up over the crotch of her panties, pressing it lightly right above her clit. She gasped, her hand shooting down to wrap around his wrist.

“What were you thinking about when you were fucking yourself?” The gravely tone of his voice had her moaning out and canting her hips upward, desperate for him to move the vibrator downward just a little.

“Your hands. And mouth. And cock.” Her admission was nothing more than breathless pants he rewarded her honesty by rotating his wrist, pressing the buzzing tip of the toy directly against her clit.

“Did you cum, baby?” The only response she could manage was a mumbled “mhm” as a delicious pressure started to build low in her belly. “How many times?”

Yoongi turned the speed of the vibrator up to the next setting, earning him a mewling moan but not an answer to his question. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

He pulled the vibrator away and before she could register the loss of stimulation, he brought his opposite hand down hard against her still clothed pussy. A shocked yelp tore from her throat as he growled, “I asked you a question, Y/N.”

“O-Once! I could only do it once,” her voice was shaky, practically a sob as he brought the vibrator back to the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Oh,” his deep chuckle had a shiver running down her spine. It carried a dark promise that the night was going to be filled with absolute torment at his hands. But it was a torment that she would gladly accept. “We can do better than that. Don’t you think?”

Applying just the slightest bit more pressure to her clit had Y/N writhing on the bed. Head tossed back into the pillows as her vision started to go fuzzy at the edges, the building pressure in her belly finally bubbled over into her release. A wanton moan ripped from her as she came, her back arching and eyes screwing shut as the pleasure washed over her.

He removed the vibrator from her just long enough to maneuver her panties down her legs. He tossed them over his shoulder and reached for the still buzzing toy beside him. Turning the speed up a few more notches, fully planning on using it for its intended purpose this time. He ran the toy up her slit, tapping it on her clit and grinning as she whined and tried to move away from his touch.

A firm grip on her hip forced her to still again, the warm weight of his hand pressing her harshly down into the mattress. Positioning the larger head at her entrance and the smaller coming to rest directly on her clit, Y/N forgot how to breathe as he slowly pushed it into her. Her hips bucking upward when he angled it just right to press against that perfect spot that instantly had her seeing stars.

He gave her no time to adjust to the new intrusion and started fucking the toy in and out of her in quick, shallow movements, always careful to make sure the bulbous tip brushed against her front wall.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as he fucked her stupid, her chest heaving with ragged, shallow breaths. It took hardly any time at all for that warmth to come back to her, pooling in her lower belly again like it had never even left in the first place.

This climax took her by surprise. It snuck up on her and ripped through her body in wave after wave of toe-curling euphoria. Her entire body was trembling with the force of it. And Yoongi only kept fucking her through it all.

Her knuckles were turning white as she fisted the sheets so tightly in her hands she had a vague thought that she might rip them. She couldn’t bring herself to care in the slightest though. Not when she felt like her world was rocking underneath her. Not when she felt like she was being devoured whole by the pure, undiluted ecstasy coursing through her veins.

Y/N crashed back down to earth just as quickly as she ascended to the heavens, her very soul seeming to slam back down into her body with enough force that she couldn’t tell up from down anymore. She was nothing more than mewling whimpers and twitching limbs as the pleasure quickly started becoming too much. And at the same time, not enough.

Yoongi was quick to lie down on his belly between her thighs, throwing an arm across her middle in an effort to keep her still. All the thoughts drained from her head as he pressed the button on the vibrator one more time, taking it to the highest possible speed, and tilting it upwards to rest right against her sweet spot.

A scream of his name tore from her throat, the shrill sound echoing off the walls as she arched so far off the mattress she might as well have been sitting up. With the intense vibrations sending her body into overdrive, it felt like it took mere seconds to have her cumming for the third time.

She started to cry as he finally withdrew the vibrator from her aching core, tears streaking down her cheeks as she babbled incoherent nonsense. The tears and slurred words only served to amuse him though. He sneered at her as he crawled up her body. He loved it when she cried.

“Awe my poor little crybaby,” he cooed as he brought a hand up to squeeze her cheeks together, fingers settling on her cheeks between her teeth and smirking down at the forced pout she now wore. He could tell she was having a hard time focusing on his face, her eyes were glassy and fat tears still rolling from the corners. “Your little pussy can’t handle it? I thought you were a big girl, hm?”

Grip tightening on her face, he snapped her head to the side so he could lick up the column of her neck before whispering in her ear. “If you can’t handle a little toy, how the fuck do you expect to take my cock?”

She could only whimper in reply as he angled his head to lick her tears away. Just as her labored breaths started to even out again, Yoongi reached for the box on her nightstand and pulled out a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

Y/N was still dazed, her body still felt like it was floating. So she took no notice of what he was doing until the soft click of one of the cuffs around her wrist rang throughout the room. She could only blink up at him as he hauled her hand up to the headboard and looped the handcuffs around a piece of framework before reaching for her other hand.

A broken sob of his name only brought another sadistic smile to his face as he reached for the box again and pulled out a small bullet vibrator. Yoongi twisted the base of the toy, turning it on to one of the higher settings it offered. Her legs snapped shut at the sound and he glared down at her, his eyes hard and sinfully dark. Strong hands were on her thighs instantly, squeezing so tight she knew there would be finger-shaped bruises left in their wake, prying them apart before he settled on his belly between them again.

She trembled as he brought the bullet to her clit and pressed down lightly. Fresh tears started to pool at the corners of her eyes as her hips jerked away from the overwhelming sensation. “I can’t. I can’t!”

Eye level with her weeping cunt, Yoongi only ‘tutted’ at her cries and slowly started to swirl the small toy on her clit, her highs tensing on either side of his head as she barreled towards another orgasm.

“C’mon, pretty girl. You know what I want.” His words fell on deaf ears, though, her blood pounded so fiercely in her ears that she couldn’t hear anything else. Hungry eyes stayed glued to her pussy as her hole continued to clench around nothing.

Yoongi couldn’t help but groan at the sight. She was leaking all over the bed, her slick puddling right under her ass as he continued his assault.

“Yoo-yoongi,” she moaned, voice broken and stuttering. “G-onna… gonna make a m-mess.”

Fuck yes.

He lowered his mouth to her entrance, tongue licking into her. He wanted to drink her down, swallow every drop she could give him.

And make a mess she did. Her orgasm washed over her in a tidal wave, crashing into her with enough force to have her vision whiting out completely.

Everything was soft and fuzzy around the edges when she came back to herself. Yoongi was mumbling soft praises and words of affirmation to her as he went about unlocking the handcuffs. He brought her wrists up to his mouth and pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to the skin where the cuffs had started to dig in despite their padding.

“You did so good, baby. I’m so proud of you. You took it all so well.” His words were soft and gentle; his demeanor completely changed now as he doted on her.

He settled down next to her, one hand rubbing slow circles on her belly and the other sliding under her shoulders as she worked to catch her breath. With a groan she rolled over to face him and started pressing lazy kisses to his jaw, her hands sliding up his arms to wrap around his neck.

Yoongi turned his head and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to earn a small whimper from her. “What do you want, baby? Use your words for me.”

He threaded his hand in her hair and gripped it tightly at the roots, pulling her back so she could look him in the eye as she whined, “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. Please. Need it so bad.”

“Yeah? Need my cock, angel? Want me to fill you up?” He was already sliding out of her arms, not waiting for her to reply before he stripped off his sweats and t-shirt. He had been ready to just hold her for the rest of the night, satisfied enough knowing that he had taken such good care of her. He could have found his own release in his hand after Y/N had fallen asleep.

But if she wanted his cock he’d fucking give it to her.

Yoongi settled into the cradle of her thighs, rutting against her and hissing as his aching cock slid through the slickness there. All of his toughness dissipated as he finally sunk into her, biting down on his tongue to hold back the whimper at the feeling of her clamping down on him.

“Fuckkk.” One hand had a white knuckle grip on the headboard, the cool metal biting into his palm helping to somewhat ground him to reality. Yoongi was panting, eyes squeezed tightly shut. If he opened his eyes and looked down at her like this, he knew he’d blow his load.

Y/N was mewling under him, whining his name in the sweetest song he’d ever heard, begging him to move. It took every shred of willpower he possessed to open his eyes, looking down and burning the image of her fucked out face into the backs of his eyelids. “Yeah. Yeah, gonna give you what you need, baby. You’ve been so good for me.”

The slow, heavy drag of his cock as he pulled out of her just to slam right back in had her head spinning, breath hitching in her throat with every brutal thrust of his hips into hers. Yoongi leaned back, releasing his death grip on the headboard to grab her thighs instead, calloused fingers pressing bruises into the plush flesh.

He positioned her the way he wanted her, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips and damn near combusting when he was able to push just a little deeper, the tip of his cock nudging against her cervix. “Goddamn, this pussy. So fucking perfect. It was made for me, huh?”

“Y-yes! God, yes, Yoongi, please.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she started blubbering and begging, her words starting to run together in a mess of incoherence. Nails clawed at his biceps and shoulders, leaving angry red welts in their wake.

A particularly deep thrust had her screaming for him, arching into him and clamping down on his cock in a vice grip. His eyes screwed shut, jaw straining under the force of his grinding teeth. “Get your toy. The little one.”

She flailed and fumbled for it, blindly swatting around the mattress until her hand found the small toy and clicked it on. Her opposite hand slid between them, mimicking his earlier movements and letting her fingers slide on either side of her clit as she brought the buzzing toy down to it.

It sent shock waves through her, and Yoongi pushed in so deep she swore she could taste him.

The moan that clawed its way from his chest was deep and primal, the vibrations against the base of his cock nearly doing him in.

Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and she arched up against him as she came, the vibrator falling from her slack hand. The fluttering of her wet heat around him sent him tumbling after her. He pulled out of her, hand flying to his cock to give himself a few furious tugs before spilling all over her pussy and lower belly in thick white ropes.

Watery eyes fluttered open to look at him, his flushed face cast up to the ceiling, jaw slack and chest heaving. He was always beautiful but like this… god he was a work of art.

Slowly, he eased himself down on top of her, resting his weight on his forearms so as not to crush her. Yoongi peppered kisses along her face, both cheeks and forehead and chin, not stopping until he was rewarded with a weak little giggle.

He hummed and moved to nuzzle his face into her neck, mumbling sweet praises into her skin. They’re still for a heartbeat, two, three, until their breathing has started to even out. Y/N vaguely registered him untangling himself from her and slip from the bed entirely.

Sleep claimed her quickly, and by the time Yoongi came back into the room with a warm washcloth, Y/N was softly snoring. Starting with the mess on her stomach, he gently set to work cleaning her up and made sure to save her surely sensitive core for last.

She whined when he tried to part her legs, and he decided that letting her soak in a warm bath might ease some of her soreness. He padded back into the bathroom and set the tap running, the steam billowing off the water and filling the small space.

While the tub slowly filled, Yoongi rummaged around under the sink for the homemade milk bath mix he knew she kept on hand. He pulled out the container and poured a hearty scoop into the tub, using his hand to gently mix it all together.

When the water had taken on a milky white hue, he rose to his feet and went to rouse Y/N.

She had curled onto her side, clutching the pillow he had lain on to her chest. Yoongi leaned down and brushed his lips over her cheek in a soft kiss.

“C’mon baby. I ran you a bath and you need to go pee.”

Y/N groaned and tried to roll away from him, but he slipped an arm under her and hoisted her up into a sitting position. “‘M fine, Yooyoo,” she mumbled, her head lolling onto his shoulder as he scooped her up and set her on her feet.

“I know you don’t want to get up but we both know that a UTI isn’t worth it,” he murmured into her ear as he helped her walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom. “I’ll step out and give you a little privacy, okay?.”

She didn’t reply as she practically collapsed on the toilet. The door clicked shut behind him, and she absently wondered why he was suddenly concerned with her privacy. He had just fucked her five ways from Sunday, but he thought she cared if he saw her pee. He was too sweet sometimes.

It took her longer than she cared to admit to get off the toilet and ease herself down into the warm, cloudy water. She moaned as the warmth seeped through her skin and into her bones.

“Yoongi,” she called out softly. He poked his head back in almost instantly, prepared to get her whatever she asked for.

“You can go to bed. I’m just going to soak for a while.”

He came fully into the room then and perched on the lip of the tub. She leaned her head against his hip and he turned just enough to be able to gently comb his fingers through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp. “You did so good for me tonight, sweet girl.”

She hummed at his praise, her eyes slipping shut as she brought her knees to her chest and rested her head against them. Yoongi stood and pushed his sweats down his hips before stepping in behind her. It only took them a moment to get settled, her back to his chest as he rested against the back of the tub.

They were quiet for several minutes and he thought she might have dozed off against him as he started to bathe her. With her favorite soap lathered on her loofa, he ran it up and down her arms, over her chest and neck, between her breasts. He set it on the edge of the tub before cupping some water in his hands to pour over her shoulders and neck to rinse away the suds. He took the clean washcloth on the corner of the tub next. She flinched when he brought it up between her legs, running it gently up her slit.

Soft words of praise were mumbled into her hair as he continued to bathe her. “I know you’re sore baby. But you did wonderfully. I’m so proud of you.”

It was so intimate, so tender, that it made her heart ache in her chest, and she teared up as he started to wash her hair, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she choked on her words as the tears started to freely fall down her cheeks.

He stilled instantly and reached out to cup her face in his palm, turning her face towards his in fear she might be mid sub-drop.

“I’m not dropping,” she assured him, a soft smile pulling at her mouth as she choked on a weak laugh. “I’m alright, I promise. I just love you, s’all.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tighter into his chest. She nuzzled her head into his neck as he dropped scattered kisses to the crown of her head. “I will always take care of you, Y/N.”

543 notes · View notes

pbaz7 · 1 month ago

Text

ONE SHOT: WHAT YOU HEARD

paige x azzi

warning: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 13k

A/N: Someone asked me to do a one shot based on Sonder What You Heard so this is my attempt at that. It was a little hard but I tried my best. This is also for all the whores who wanted a “bonus” scene from against the tide. It’s not post library but it’s something! Lmk what you think and leave live reacts 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

The locker room was nearly silent, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the space as Paige pushed the door open. She had just finished talking to Geno after practice, her mind still half in the conversation. But when her eyes landed on Azzi, sitting alone on the bench, her brow furrowed and her phone resting limply in her hand, she paused mid-step.

“What’s wrong Az?” Paige asked, her voice softer than usual.

Azzi didn’t look up immediately. Instead, she pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Nothing,” she muttered under her breath, but even that word cracked with doubt.

Paige leaned against the row of lockers, crossing her arms as a scoff escaped her lips. “Bullshit,” she said bluntly. Her eyes darted to the phone in Azzi’s hand. “He still hasn’t texted you back, has he?”

Azzi hesitated, her face tightening before she sighed. “He’s busy. You know how he is.”

“Busy my ass, Azzi,” Paige said, the irritation in her tone clear. “He’s on the football team, and they’re not even that good.”

Azzi’s head shot up, a glare in her eyes. “You just don’t like him,” she shot back defensively.

Paige didn’t flinch, didn’t even pretend to deny it. Instead, her expression stayed the same, and she shrugged. “You’re right I don’t like him. I sure as hell don’t respect him. He’s a bitch.”

Azzi let out a low groan, running a hand down her face. “Paige…”

“What?” Paige asked, pushing off the lockers and taking a step closer. “You don’t need me to tell you this again. You know it already. He treats you like a backup plan. Like you’re the one waiting in line for him to decide if he’s got time for you.” Her voice softened, but her frustration didn’t fade. “And that’s not who you are, Azzi.”

Azzi glanced at her phone again, her thumb hovering over the screen like she was willing a message to appear. “It’s not like that,” she muttered.

“Isn’t it?” Paige said. Her voice dropped, taking on an edge of exasperation. “Look, I’m not saying this because I want to hurt you when you’re already upset Az. I’m saying it because watching you settle for this shit—this dude who doesn’t even realize what he’s got—it drives me insane.”

Azzi’s hand clenched around her phone, but her gaze finally met Paige’s. There was a flicker of doubt there, a crack in the armor she always tried to keep up. “You don’t get it,” she whispered.

“No, Azzi,” Paige said, stepping closer now, her tone softer but no less certain. “I get it more than you do. I get that you’re in the wrong hands. That he doesn’t see you, not the way you deserve to be seen. And I don’t get how you don’t see it yet.”

Azzi opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. Paige tilted her head, her voice dropping into something almost tender. “You think this is normal? Waiting around for some guy who only shows up when it’s convenient for him? You don’t have to put up with that. You’re so much more than that.”

Azzi finally set her phone down on the bench beside her, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She sighed deeply, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not that easy, Paige.”

Paige crouched down in front of her, catching Azzi’s gaze. “I never said it would be easy,” she said quietly. “But I promise you—he’s not worth this.”

There was a heavy silence between them, and in that moment, Paige’s thoughts were louder than her words. But instead of saying anything, she just held Azzi’s gaze, hoping the truth in her eyes was enough to make Azzi finally listen to her.

Azzi’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a notification. She didn’t reach for it right away, her gaze flicking between Paige and the phone. Her fingers twitched like she was torn between two choices.

Finally, she spoke. “Why do you care so much?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, one that sounded almost pained. “Why wouldn’t I pretty girl? I’m your best friend” she said as her eyes softened.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, tired smile, the tension in her face easing just slightly. “I love you,” she said, her tone light and easy, like she had said it a thousand times before. But the way she said it—it wasn’t what Paige wanted to hear. It wasn’t the kind of love Paige wished for, the kind that had been eating away at her for months now.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing herself to return the sentiment in kind. “I love you too,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest.

Azzi’s phone buzzed again, the sound cutting through the stillness of the locker room. This time, she glanced down at it, her thumb swiping across the screen. Whatever she saw on the display made her lips press into a tight line, her brows furrowing all over again.

Paige didn’t say a word. She just shook her head with a sigh. Turning away, she walked to her locker, her movements a little sharp but still measured, betraying none of the emotions churning beneath the surface.

The air in the room grew heavy again, but Paige didn’t look back. She didn’t trust herself to, not with the lump rising in her throat and the bitter taste of unspoken words lingering on her tongue.

…

Azzi’s legs rested comfortably across Paige’s lap as she leaned back against the headboard, scrolling through her phone. Paige sat against the wall, her notebook balanced on her thighs, though the words on the page had long since blurred into the background. Azzi held Paige’s right hand, her thumb lazily brushing over the back of it as if the touch was second nature.

Paige’s eyes flicked to their hands, a sly smile pulling at her lips. She tilted her head back against the wall, breaking the silence with a low, teasing tone. “You know, if you keep holding my hand like this, I might start thinking you’re trying to tell me something.”

Azzi glanced up, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oh, please. You’re the one who hasn’t let go.”

Paige smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Right. I’m sure I’m the clingy one here,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her gaze dropped to Azzi’s fingers still idly tracing patterns on her hand. “But hey, if this is your silent way of saying you like me better than the midget, I’m not gonna argue.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Paige shrugged, her free hand brushing lightly over Azzi’s thigh. “Maybe. But let’s be honest—you don’t let him do this, do you?” She tilted her head, her voice taking on an edge. “I mean, does he even know how to touch you like this?”

Azzi froze for a moment, her eyes darting to Paige’s face. “Paige…” she started, but her voice wavered, and Paige didn’t miss it.

Paige leaned in a little more, her smirk softening into something more deliberate. “What? Just saying. If he knew how to make you feel the way you deserve…” She paused, her voice dipping. “You wouldn’t be sitting here with me, holding my hand like it’s the only thing keeping you together.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip on Paige’s hand tightening slightly, though she didn’t respond. Paige could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the way her lips parted as if to argue but no words came out.

Paige’s heart raced, the heat in the room thickening as she decided to push just a little further. “You don’t have to say it out loud, Az,” she murmured, her tone quiet. “But deep down, you know. He could never—” Paige hesitated for just a beat, the words of the song she’d listen too all too much lately m echoing in her mind before she continued talking. Let me unleash my demons on you.

Azzi’s breath hitched, her phone slipping slightly in her hand as Paige’s meaning settled over her. She blinked, her gaze locked on Paige, curiosity and something deeper sparking in her eyes. “Paige…” she said again, softer this time, almost uncertain but it was the only word she could muster.

“What?” Paige asked, her voice softening as well but still laced with the same teasing edge. “You deserve someone who knows how to make you feel good. Someone who actually puts you first.” She leaned back against the wall, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I mean, you keep waiting around for him, hoping he’ll figure it out, but… what if you’re wasting your time?”

Azzi looked down at their hands, her thumb still brushing against Paige’s knuckles, though the motion was slower now. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she seemed frozen, caught between denial and the weight of Paige’s words.

Paige’s smirk returned, softer this time but no less confident. “All I’m saying is, if you ever want to find out what it’s like to be with someone who actually knows what they’re doing…” Her voice dropped lower, her words hanging in the charged air between them. “You know where to find me.”

Azzi’s lips parted to respond, but a knock at her door cut through the charged air. She let out a small sigh of relief, leaning her head back against the headboard. “Come in!” she called out.

The door opened to reveal her boyfriend, Cam, who strolled in with a casual air. Azzi gave him a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey,” she said softly, shifting slightly but not moving her legs from Paige’s lap.

Cam walked over and leaned down, giving Azzi a half-hug, his arm awkwardly draped around her shoulders. She barely moved, still holding Paige’s hand as she scrolled her thumb idly across her screen. Cam straightened, finally acknowledging Paige with a nod. “Wassup, Paige?” He put out his hand for a quick dap.

Paige barely glanced up from her notes, tilting her head up at him in acknowledgment but making no move to reciprocate the gesture. The air in the room thickened with unspoken tension, and Cam, clearly picking up on it, lowered his hand, chuckling awkwardly.

Paige had never been subtle about her disdain for him, and her icy reaction was no surprise to anyone in the room.

Trying to lighten the mood, Cam looked at their interlocked hands and cracked a grin. “Damn, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to steal my girl man.”

Paige’s head finally lifted, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across her lips. “If I wanted your girlfriend,” she said evenly, her voice dripping with confidence, “I would have her.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly, the heat rising up her neck. Her fingers instinctively tightened around Paige’s, though she quickly let go, tucking her hand into her lap.

Cam blinked, caught off guard by the boldness of her statement, his expression twisting into a mix of confusion and irritation. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, looking down at Azzi as if expecting her to defend him.

But before Azzi could say anything, Paige was already standing, sliding Azzi’s legs off her lap with an ease that felt almost dismissive. “Relax, Cameron it’s a joke,” Paige said, tapping his shoulder a little harshly, her smirk still firmly in place. She grabbed her notebook and bag, walking over to the other side of the bed.

She leaned down to hug Azzi, the embrace feeling much more intimate than it should have. Paige’s lips brushed dangerously close to Azzi’s neck as she whispered, her voice low, “I’ll catch you later, Az.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her body betraying her as her breath hitched slightly. Paige pulled back, straightening up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She turned toward the door, throwing one last glance at Cam, her smile lingering like a challenge.

“Bye, P,” Azzi murmured, her voice soft and uncertain.

“Later pretty girl,” Paige replied smoothly, not sparing Cam another glance as she walked out the door.

The room fell into an awkward silence, Cam still staring at the door as if trying to process what had just happened. Azzi shifted uncomfortably, her gaze fixed on the bed as she absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck, the ghost of Paige’s closeness still lingering.

Cam turned back to her, his tone sharp. “What the hell was that?”

Azzi blinked up at him, her voice calm but slightly irritated from their argument earlier. “What was what?”

Cam’s jaw tightened as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Azzi, don’t be stupid,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “She basically just said she could take you from me. You’re just gonna sit there like that didn’t happen?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, leaning back against the headboard with an exasperated sigh. “She was just messing with you, Cam. Relax.”

“Messing with me?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly. “You call that messing around? That wasn’t a joke. You two were—” He gestured toward where her legs had been draped over Paige’s lap. “That’s not normal, Azzi!”

Azzi sat up straighter, her irritation now matching his. “What do you mean it’s not normal? She’s my best friend. We’ve always been close like that.”

Cam scoffed, his disbelief evident. “Close? That wasn’t close. That was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Look, I’m not stupid. There’s something weird about the way she looks at you, the way she acts around you.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, her tone sharp. “You’re reading into things that aren’t there because you do shit you shouldn’t be doing.”

Cam let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “So you’re telling me she wouldn’t fuck you if you gave her the chance?”

The question surprised Azzi, and she froze for a split second, her body betraying her with a slight twitch of her fingers. Her mind betrayed her even more.

She shouldn’t have thought about it—she really shouldn’t have. But suddenly, Paige’s words from earlier echoed in her head, her low voice taunting Cam with that annoying ass confidence: If I wanted your girlfriend, I would have her.

A flash of memory followed. The way Paige’s lips hovered just a little too close to her neck when they hugged, the way her eyes lingered on Azzi’s mouth when she teased her about Cam. Let me unleash my demons on you. The words Paige had sung before played over in her mind, sending an involuntary shiver through her.

Azzi shook the thought off almost as quickly as it came, her chest tightening as she forced herself to look back at Cam. She smoothed her expression, keeping her tone flat. “She doesn’t want to fuck me, Cameron.”

Cam gave her a skeptical look, his jaw tightening. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty damn obvious.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the hem of her sweatshirt. “I’m sure,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

But as Cam stood there staring her down, Azzi couldn’t ignore the heat rising to her neck, the way her heart thudded just a little too loudly in her chest. Because the truth—the one she’d never admit out loud—was that Paige absolutely would, and Azzi couldn’t help but wonder for the briefest of moments what it might feel like if she let her.

…

Paige’s dorm room was dimly lit, the golden glow of her desk lamp casting a warm haze over the space. Azzi sat cross-legged on Paige’s bed, her fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her hoodie. Paige, seated at her desk, glanced up from her notes to steal a glance at Azzi, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since walking in.

“Alright, spit it out,” Paige said, setting her pen down and leaning back in her chair. “You’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes looking like someone just canceled Christmas. What happened?”

Azzi let out a sigh, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t give me that this time Az. What he said he was too busy to talk, or he forgot something important again?

Azzi sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s not always about him.”

“Yeah? Because nine times out of ten when you come in here lookin like that, it’s about him.”

Azzi stayed quiet, which was answer enough.

Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head as she spun her chair to face Azzi fully. “Rightt. Because he’s such a busy guy. Averaging 100 claps at practice right?”

“Stop,” Azzi said, her tone defensive, though there was no real anger behind it. “You don’t have to keep tearing him down.”

Paige shrugged, unbothered. “I wouldn’t have to if he gave me a reason to respect him.” She stood, crossing the small room in a few steps and leaning against the edge of her dresser. “But let’s be real, Az. You deserve better. And I don’t mean just slightly better—I mean way better.”

Azzi looked up at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. “Like who? You?”

Paige’s smirk was immediate, her confidence unwavering. “Yeah. Me.”

Azzi laughed softly, but there was a hint of nervousness in the sound. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige tilted her head, her eyes glinting with something. “Am I? Or am I just saying what I know you’ve already been thinking?”

Azzi’s lips parted, but no words came out. Paige took a step closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, her knee brushing against Azzi’s leg.

“Let’s be honest, Azzi,” Paige said, her voice dropping to a low, velvety tone. “He doesn’t see you. Not the way I do. He doesn’t know how to handle someone like you, with a life like yours, how to make you feel like the only person in the room.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her hoodie. “Paige—”

“I’m just saying,” Paige continued, leaning in slightly, her lips curving into a smirk. “If it were me, you wouldn’t have to ask for anything. You wouldn’t have to wonder if you mattered. I’d make sure you knew—every second of every day.”

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with something Azzi couldn’t just brush off.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Azzi whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

Paige’s smirk softened, but her intensity didn’t waver. She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I know exactly what I’m saying. You’re just in denial. I know he doesn’t touch you the way you deserve to be touched. Make you feel the way you deserve to feel. You’ve complained about it.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her breath hitching as she sat there at a loss of words.

“I’m serious,” Paige continue. “You haven’t thought about it? Even for a second? What it would be like if it were me instead of him?”

Azzi’s lips parted, and Paige caught the way her breath quickened ever so slightly. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” Azzi said, though the warning in her voice was faint at best.

Paige smirked, her confidence only growing. “Am I? Or are you just afraid of what I’m saying? What it means?” She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You want me to stop, tell me. But if you don’t, maybe it’s because part of you knows I’m right.”

Azzi’s heart was racing, her mind spinning. Paige’s words hung in the air, heavy and charged, pulling her in like a magnet.

Paige shifted closer, her voice dropping impossibly lower as she murmured, “I promise you I could make you forget he even exists, Az.”

Azzi’s breath hitched again, heat crawling up her neck. Paige’s gaze was locked on hers, unwavering, and for a split second, Azzi let herself imagine it—Paige’s hands on her skin, her lips tracing lines down her neck.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the bed as Paige leaned in even closer, their faces just inches apart now. Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing against Azzi’s lips. “You wouldn’t have to wonder if you mattered. I’d show you. Over, and over again.”

Azzi’s mind screamed at her to say something, to move, but she was frozen in place, her heart thundering in her chest.

The tension in the room was suffocating, the air thick with everything still unsaid by Azzi. Paige’s lips twitched into a smirk as she finally pulled back slightly, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “But hey, if you’re happy with him…” She let the words hang, leaving them unfinished, loaded with implication.

Azzi blinked, her throat dry as she whispered, “You’re out of your mind.”

Paige chuckled, not saying anything, just standing and grabbing her water bottle off the nightstand.

Azzi stared at her, her thoughts a tangled mess as Paige casually went back to her desk, acting like she hadn’t just turned Azzi’s world upside down.

…

The lively buzz of voices and clinking glasses at Ted's couldn't drown out the thoughts swirling around in Azzi’s head. They were all there in celebration of their Big East championship win, but all Azzi could focus on was Paige.

Azzi had been feeling a little off tonight, even though she tried to push the thoughts aside. Another game, another promise from Cam about being there, and once again, he hadn't shown. His absence barely gnawed at her, and she definitely wasn’t about to let it ruin her night—not when they were here celebrating.

Azzi’s gaze kept drifting to her. Paige was leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, her effortless confidence on full display. Two girls stood in front of her, talking animatedly, their hands gesturing as they laughed. Paige flashed them her signature smile, nodding along to whatever they were saying, though she didn’t seem particularly invested.

Azzi knew that smile too well. It was the same one Paige gave when she was humoring someone—not because she cared, but because she knew they liked the attention and it entertained her for a little bit. The thought made Azzi’s chest tighten, though she quickly brushed it off.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned toward Nika, who had just slid into the seat next to her. “Which one do you think she’s going to take home?” Azzi asked, nodding toward Paige and the girls.

Nika followed her gaze, then snorted. “Girl neither.”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “What do you mean, neither?

Nika turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “Paige has a type and it’s definitely not them.”

Azzi frowned, laughing a little. “Paige doesn’t really have a type. She kinda just... goes with the flow.”

Nika gave her a look. “You’re joking, right? Paige 1000% has a type.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Okay, what’s her type then?”

Nika gave Azzi a pointed look, leaning in a little closer. “Think about the last girl she brought back... or the two before that.”

Azzi stopped, her mind automatically working to pull up the memories. Paige never talked much about the girls she brought back, but Azzi had seen them. The thought lingered in her mind like a puzzle, the pieces slowly clicking together.

She could picture them now—the girls who had all been... similar. The way they had looked, the way they attempted to carry themselves—it was like there was a pattern. And now that Nika had pointed it out, Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just a coincidence.

She felt a knot form in her stomach, realizing that most of the girls Paige had been with recently looked... well, a lot like her.

Nika smirked, clearly enjoying Azzi’s reaction. “See what I mean?”

Azzi forced herself to laugh, though it sounded more nervous than amused. “So, you’re saying Paige has a type after all?”

Nika shrugged, her expression unreadable. “It’s not about type. It’s more so about what she wants.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked away, pretending to focus on something else. But the truth of Nika’s words lingered in her mind. Paige wasn’t just a flirty, carefree teammate. She was the one who made Azzi’s pulse race every time their eyes met. The one who made her question everything, including her feelings for Cam almost every other day.

She couldn’t stop herself from thinking it—what would it be like if it were me instead of them?

Nika, still watching her, smirked knowingly. “Look, if you want my advice, stop pretending. It’s obvious. You two have chemistry. You’ve got something that the midget could never give you.”

Azzi felt her stomach tighten at the thought of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice a little too sharp, but Nika wasn’t fooled.

Nika just shook her head. “Sure you don’t.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, Azzi trying to push those thoughts away, but they kept coming back. She couldn’t help it. The more she thought about Paige, the more she realized Nika was right.

Azzi risked another glance at Paige, who was still chatting with the girls at the bar. Paige caught her eye, a teasing smile forming that made Azzi’s heart stutter. Then, as if to drive the point home, Paige winked before turning her attention back to the girls in front of her.

Azzi’s face burned, and she immediately looked away, gripping her drink tighter than necessary.

As the night wore on, Nika’s observation proved true. Not long after their conversation, Paige casually excused herself from the girls she’d been chatting with and made her way back to the team’s table. She slid into the spot next to Azzi, her presence an unspoken reassurance that made Azzi’s chest feel lighter.

The bar was louder now, filled with the boisterous laughter and slurred voices of their teammates taking full advantage of the open bar. Azzi, feeling the warmth of a few drinks in her system, leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder as she sat there silently. She didn’t think much of it—it was comfortable, and no one else seemed to notice or care.

Paige, though, seemed to notice. She tilted her head, resting it gently on top of Azzi’s. Her voice was soft, laced with curiosity and something else Azzi couldn’t quite place. “What’re you thinking about?”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers idly tracing the condensation on her glass. She wasn’t sure if her response slipped out because she was tipsy, tired, or just tired of pretending. “You.”

Paige raised her eyebrows at that, letting out a short puff of air through her nose, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Me?” she echoed, her tone playful but intrigued.

Azzi’s voice was quiet but steady this time. “You.”

The air between them shifted, the background noise of the bar fading into static. Paige stayed where she was, her head still resting on Azzi’s. Her lips quirked up in the corner, but her voice was softer now, less teasing. “What about me?”

Azzi’s chest tightened, her fingers instinctively finding Paige’s hand, beginning to play with her fingers as she looked down at them. Her words were almost a whisper, like she was afraid to say them too loud. “I’m not telling you.”

Paige laughed. “Why not?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away, her thumb brushing over Paige’s knuckles. She felt Paige shift slightly, her head tilting just enough for her lips to hover near Azzi’s ear.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me?” Paige murmured, her voice carrying an edge of something that made Azzi’s stomach flip.

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip tightening on Paige’s hand. “Positive.”

Paige chuckled again. “You’re a bad liar, Azzi.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her heart pounding as she felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her skin. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the bar didn’t exist, like it was just the two of them, caught in this moment.

Azzi finally pulled back, just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. “Maybe,” she said, her voice just as soft but with a hint of defiance.

Paige smirked, her gaze dropping to Azzi’s lips for a brief second before flicking back up to her eyes. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop lying,” she said, her tone light but her eyes reflected something much heavier.

Paige stood up smoothly, her fingers brushing lightly over Azzi’s arm as she passed by. “I’ll be back,” she said casually.

Azzi watched her go, her gaze trailing Paige as she made her way back to the bar. Paige leaned against it like she owned the place, her posture effortless yet commanding, the kind of confidence that demanded attention without even trying. She had this way of carrying herself—loose, assured, magnetic. It wasn’t just the way she looked; it was the way she knew she looked, the way her presence seemed to pull focus without her having to lift a finger.

Azzi’s drink sat untouched in her hand, the cool condensation on the glass doing nothing to temper the sudden heat rushing through her. Her eyes lingered on Paige’s back, tracing the line of her shoulders down to the curve of her waist. Damn, she thought, her breath catching for reasons she didn’t want to admit.

The lyrics of the song playing overhead drifted into her consciousness, wrapping around her like the smoke hanging in the air. “Don’t tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts...” The words sank in, her mind betraying her as it painted a vivid picture of what that might mean with Paige.

It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered. Paige had always had this aura about her, a quiet intensity that felt equal parts dangerous and inviting. Azzi had caught herself thinking about it before—what it might be like to have Paige’s focus solely on her, to be on the receiving end of her. But tonight, something about the combination of liquor and the way Paige had been looking at her—smirking like she already knew every thought in Azzi’s head—made it impossible to shake.

She bit her lip, her gaze locked on the way Paige leaned forward to order another drink, her body language casual but so self-assured. Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she realized just how vivid her thoughts had become.

She’d be so fucking good in bed. The thought came unbidden but settled deep within her. Azzi closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Was it the alcohol? The fact that she hadn’t been touched in so long, hadn’t felt wanted in ways that mattered? Maybe it was both. Or maybe it was something else entirely—something about Paige that felt dangerously exciting yet safe at the same time.

Azzi’s mind filled with images she shouldn’t be entertaining—images of what it might be like to let Paige do whatever she wanted, to let her hands and lips erase everything else, to lose herself completely in whatever Paige had to offer.

Azzi shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the bar as if it would stop the thoughts swirling in her head. But even as she looked down at the table, she couldn’t shake the heat coursing through her stomach.

Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand as she took a long sip, hoping the burn of the liquor would distract her. But it didn’t. Instead, her eyes betrayed her once again, lifting to find Paige just as she turned back to glance at Azzi over her shoulder.

Paige smiled softly at Azzi, her gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary before she turned back to the bartender. Azzi’s chest tightened, a mixture of frustration and longing clawing its way through her.

She exhaled slowly, willing herself to get a grip. But deep down, she knew it was too late. Paige had gotten into her head, and for the first time, Azzi wasn’t sure if she wanted her out.

…

The booth was quieter now, the buzz of the bar fading into the background as the team’s conversations grew softer. Azzi and Paige leaned against the cushioned seat, their heads tilted toward one another. The dim lighting seemed to wrap around them, isolating them in their little corner despite the crowd still lingering around the bar.

Paige shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against Azzi’s. “So,” Paige said, her voice low and playful. “What’s running through that mysterious little head of yours?”

Azzi glanced at her, her lips curving into a smirk. “Mysterious, huh? That’s what you think of me?”

Paige’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Sure. You’re like… one of those locked diary types. Tryna be a total enigma. But, you know, if I had the key…”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smirk softening into a smile. “What would you even do with it?”

Paige tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I don’t know. Depends on what I find. Deep, dark secrets? A crush on a teammate, maybe?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stayed leaning back against the booth. “A crush on a teammate? You sound awfully confident for someone who’s never even seen me blush.”

Paige laughed softly, the sound sending a little ripple of warmth through Azzi’s chest. “I’m calling bullshit on that one.”

Azzi shook her head, her smile lingering as she watched Paige. “You’re a little annoying, you know that?”

Paige shrugged, her expression unbothered. “Yeah, but I’m charming. Makes up for it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, but there was no hiding the way her smile grew just a little wider. Paige had this way of getting under her skin, making her feel both flustered and strangely comfortable all at once. It was maddening and addictive, and Azzi wasn’t sure which one of those things scared her more.

Paige turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Azzi with a curious look. “You know,” she said, her tone softer now, “you’ve been really quiet tonight.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the show. You seem to be entertaining enough for the both of us.”

Paige grinned at that, her eyes sparkling. “I do aim to please,” she said, leaning a little closer. “But seriously, what’s up? You’ve got that faraway look.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before exhaling softly, her gaze dropping to the table. “Just… thinking,” she said finally.

Paige tilted her head, studying her. “About what?”

Azzi looked back at her, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

Paige smirked. “Not a chance.”

Azzi hesitated again, the words sitting on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she said, “Nika pointed something out tonight.”

Paige’s eyebrows lifted, her smirk softening into a curious smile. “This ought to be good. What did our resident truth-teller have to say?”

Azzi smirked, feeling a flicker of amusement despite herself. “She said… you have a type.”

Paige raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued. “Oh yeah? And what’s my type Azzi?”

Azzi shrugged, trying to keep her tone light. “At first, I didn’t think she was right. But then I thought about it.”

Paige leaned back, her arm stretching across the back of the booth as her eyes danced with curiosity. “And?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before meeting Paige’s gaze again. “They all look like me.”

Azzi expected Paige to laugh it off, to make some joke and move on, but instead, Paige’s smile softened, her eyes darkening as she tilted her head slightly towards Azzi a little more.

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice low and steady. “I can see that.”

Azzi blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the honesty in Paige’s tone. Her pulse quickened as she leaned in just slightly, her voice barely audible now. “Why?”

Paige’s gaze didn’t waver, her eyes searching Azzi’s as she answered. “Because I can’t have you.”

Azzi’s breath caught, her chest tightening at the weight of those words. She wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure if she could even think straight with the way Paige was looking at her—as if she was the only person in the room. Their heads were still leaned back against the booth, but now their faces were so close, their whispers carrying the kind of intimacy that felt like it could shatter the air around them.

“How long?” Azzi asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile moment between them.

Paige’s lips curved into a soft, almost wistful smile, her eyes flickering to Azzi’s lips before returning to her gaze. “A long time.”

The simplicity of the answer hit Azzi harder than she expected, the honesty in Paige’s tone wrapping around her like a tether. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding in a way that left her dizzy.

For a moment, it felt like the air between them thickened, every noise and movement around them fading into the background. They weren’t in a crowded bar anymore; it was just the two of them, locked in a bubble of their own.

Azzi’s eyes searched Paige’s as if trying to confirm what she already knew. Paige tightened her jaw, a familiar motion Azzi had come to recognize—the telltale sign that Paige was reining herself in, trying to keep control. But this time, Paige didn’t pull away.

Neither of them spoke. Their eyes flicked back and forth—Paige’s gaze dropping to Azzi’s lips, Azzi’s locked on Paige’s mouth like it was the only thing in the world she could see.

Paige exhaled slowly, her breath brushing Azzi’s lips as they both leaned in, so agonizingly slow it felt like an eternity before they were close enough to taste the tension. Azzi could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, and judging by the slight tremble in Paige’s exhale, she wasn’t the only one.

Finally, Azzi moved, closing the unbearable gap between them. Her lips met Paige’s in a tentative kiss, soft and warm, sweetened by the lingering hint of alcohol from the cocktails they’d been sipping all night.

It was messy at first—the angle awkward as they leaned against the back of the booth—but neither of them cared. The kiss quickly shifted, deepened as if they were both making up for all the time they’d spent pretending this moment wasn’t inevitable.

Paige’s hand moved instinctively, sliding up to cup Azzi’s jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against her skin. Azzi’s breath hitched again as Paige’s lips parted slightly, her tongue swiping gently under Azzi’s bottom lip. The unspoken question was clear, and Azzi answered immediately, her lips parting to let Paige in.

Their tongues met, the kiss turning needier. Azzi felt like she was drowning, her fingers gripping Paige’s thigh under the table to anchor herself. Paige shifted closer, her hand now tangled in Azzi’s curls as if she couldn’t stand to keep any distance between them.

Unknowingly to them, the few teammates who’d been sitting in front of them at the table exchanged wide-eyed glances before quietly walking away, sensing that whatever was happening here was private, and very much overdue.

Neither Paige nor Azzi noticed—or cared. They were too far gone, lost in the heat of the moment.

But as the kiss stretched on, neither of them showing interest in stopping any time soon, other patrons started to glance in their direction.

That’s when Nika swooped in, a balled-up napkin in her hand. She hurled it at them, hitting Paige square in the shoulder. “Go home,” Nika said, her tone dry but carrying the teasing edge of a friend who’d had enough.

Startled, Paige and Azzi finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, their lips swollen and their cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Paige didn’t even glance at Nika. Her gaze remained fixed on Azzi, a world of unspoken desire and promise swirling in her eyes.

Azzi, however, chuckled softly at Nika’s words, a hint of nervousness in her breathless laugh, but mostly amusement. “Come on,” Azzi said as she reached for Paige’s hand under the table.

Paige blinked, slightly caught off guard by Azzi’s reaction. She had half-expected her to pull away, to get awkward or retreat into herself. But there was none of that. Azzi’s calm confidence was almost intoxicating, and it left Paige momentarily speechless.

Without saying a word, Paige slid out of the booth, her hand still in Azzi’s as they weaved their way through the bar.

…

As they stepped into Paige’s room, the tension from the bar followed them. Paige, unsure of where Azzi’s head was at, chose not to make a move right away. She quietly walked over to the bed, sitting down and leaning back against her hands. Her posture was casual, but her heart was racing, her mind buzzing with everything that transpired.

Azzi, however, didn’t hesitate. The soft click of the door locking behind her sent a jolt through Paige’s body. She looked up, her lips parting slightly to say something, but the words never came. Azzi was already crossing the room.

Before Paige could process what was happening, Azzi’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back against the mattress with a gentle motion. Paige let her body sink into the bed as Azzi climbed on top of her, straddling her hips.

The kiss that followed was nothing short of amazing. Azzi’s lips met Paige’s in a heated, almost desperate clash, all hesitation or restraint burned away in the heat that had been building between them for so long.

Paige responded instantly, her hands sliding down Azzi’s sides before gripping her ass, squeezing hard as she pulled Azzi even closer. The action earned her a soft, breathy moan from Azzi, who deepened the kiss in response.

Their movements were messy but urgent, a mixture of tongues and teeth as they explored each other. Azzi’s hands slid up, threading through Paige’s hair, tugging slightly to tilt her head back and change the angle of their kiss. Paige groaned into her mouth, the sound sending a shiver through Azzi’s body.

The room was quiet except for the sound of their lips moving together and the occasional ragged breath they managed to catch between kisses. Every touch, every shift of their bodies was fueled by months of pent-up tension finally being released.

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to hover above Paige, her breath ghosting against her lips. Her dark eyes searched Paige’s, as if looking for reassurance, for confirmation that this wasn’t just the alcohol or the heat of the moment.

As if Paige could read her mind, she gave a soft smile, her hands settling on Azzi’s waist as she gently flipped them over. Now leaning over Azzi, Paige’s voice was a low murmur, soothing yet confident. “Stop overthinking it,” she said, her lips curving into that teasing smirk Azzi found so intoxicating. “I got you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her tension melting away as her hands moved up to frame Paige’s face. Her fingers slid along Paige’s jaw, interlacing behind her neck to hold her close. She pulled Paige down for another kiss, this one slower, more tender.

Paige took her time, letting the kiss linger and deepen naturally. Their lips moved in perfect rhythm, tongues occasionally brushing, sending little jolts of electricity through them both each time. There was no urgency now, just a shared intimacy as they both got lost in the moment.

The kiss stretched on, five minutes of bliss that felt like an eternity and yet not nearly enough. Neither of them wanted to break away, but when Paige finally leaned back slightly, it wasn’t to stop. Her hands went to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of her body.

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she was quick to follow, slipping her shirt off almost as if on instinct. Her hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, but before she could undo the button, Paige’s hand gently covered hers, stopping her.

“You don’t gotta rush, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice low and reassuring as her thumb stroked Azzi’s knuckles. “I got it.”

Those words sent a warmth pooling in Azzi’s chest—and lower—that she hadn’t expected. She was so used to rushing into things, to moving fast and skipping the buildup. But this...this was different. Paige wasn’t just touching her body; she was touching a part of Azzi that had been craving more than just physical connection.

Azzi let her hands fall away, her body relaxing beneath Paige as she gave a small, almost shy nod. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Paige smiled at her, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth, then another along her jaw, taking her time like she promised. “Just let me take care of you,” Paige whispered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin as her hands began to explore.

Paige began placing open mouth kisses against Azzi’s neck making sure she drew each of them out. Every touch felt like a spark, igniting feelings in Azzi, leaving a trail of heat that made her pulse quicken. Paige’s hands we warm and gentle, as the roamed over Azzi’s body, her fingertips tracing the curves of her body, sending shivers down Azzi’s back with every brush.

Azzi’s breath came in ragged gasps, her chest starting to rise and fall quicker, a subtle tremor working through her as Paige continued moving lower. The new sensation was intoxicating for Azzi, as if Paige was slowly unraveling her, piece by piece.

Azzi’s hands gripped the sheets, her fingers curling into the fabric as soft sounds escaped her lips–a breathless, needy whisper that slipped out before she could even process it. “Paige…”

The sound of her name rolling off of Azzi’s lips, sent a warmth through Paige. She pulled back slightly to look at Azzi and take her in for a second. Her brown eyes were dark with desire, her face flushed, lips slightly parted.

Paige lowered herself again as she placed soft kisses against Azzi’s chest, slipping her hand behind the girl to undo her bra and toss it to the side.

Azzi’s breath hitched as she swallowed the sounds threatening to escape her as Paige explored her chest before moving down further leaving sloppy kisses all over Azzi’s abdomen.

Azzi let out a soft, frustrated groan, her body aching from the slow build-up of desire. Paige was taking her sweet time, drawing out every kiss, every touch, and Azzi felt like she was about to explode and Paifge hadn’t even done anything yet. So she tried to move, to push Paige further down her body, but the moment her hands slipped from the sheet’s, Paige was there grabbing both of her wrist and pinning them firmly to her sides.

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sudden restraint, a jolt of heat coursing between her legs as she looked down at Paige, eyes wide with longing. Paige's gaze was dark and filled with an almost cruel amusement.

“You need to be patient,” Paige whispered, her voice low, a teasing smile forming.

Azzi’s chest tightened, and she swallowed her throat all of a sudden feeling dry. She wasn’t used to this kind of anticipation, this slow burn that made every nerve in her body feel like it was on fire. She could feel herself restraint slipping with every second, her body practically beginning for more.

“I can’t,” Azzi admitted, her voice breathless. Her hands clenched against the sheet’s under Paige’s hold and her hips shifted restlessly. She needed more. Needed Paige to ease the ache that was building. “Please…”

The word slipped from her lips, barely above a whisper.

Paige’s smile only grew, her eyes a mixture of amusement and desire for the girl under her. “Move your hands again,” she said softly, “and I’m starting over.”

Azzi’s body tensed at the words, more heat rushing between her legs as she let out a soft frustrated groan as she swallowed hard. Her heart raced, the pulse between her legs only intensifying at the threat. She wanted to beg. To pull Paige closer but she couldn’t handle more waiting so she kept her mouth shut.

Her back arched as Paige leaned down, placing an open mouth kisses to Azzi’s hip sending a shock of heath through Azzi’s body. Azzi moaned softly, her hands instinctively trying to grab at Paige, but Paige kept her pinned.

Azzi’s breath hitched again as Paige sucked a little harshly now and her body bucked, trying to push herself into Paige. Paige just smiled, her mouth hovering close to the waistband of Azzi’s pants. Azzi’s chest heaved as she struggled against the growing frustration, her voice a desperate whisper.

“Please, Paige…” Azzi’s voice cracked, barely audible, but clearly heavy with need.

Paige looked up at her through half-lidded eyes, and Azzi saw how dark her blue eyes looked, the control that she was exercising with every kiss. Paige sucked against Azzi’s v-line as she looked at her, causing Azzi to bite her lip hard as she arched into Paige again.

Paige chuckled at this. “Mmm ok I got you baby,” she murmured against Azzi’s skin. Paige undid Azzi’s pants button before pulling them down, slowly kissing down Azzi’s legs as she did it.

Azzi’s whole body trembled, a soft moan escaping her throat. She swallowed thickly, leaning her head back against the pillow closing her eyes as she tried to steady her breath. She could already feel how embarrassingly fast she was going to come undone for Paige.

As soon as Paige’s tongue swiped across Azzi’s center, she let out a breathles murmur, her body trembling at the feeling already. Her words came out in a jumble, soft and incoherent, as the heat radiating off of Paige made her lose any coherent thought.

Paige chuckled softly, her lips curling into a slight smile as she repeated the motion, this time slower, letting her tongue glide across Azzi with more pressure. Azzi’s pulse spiked and her hands instinctively gripped Paige’s hair pushing her further into her, as a soft, needy whisper spilled from her lips.

“That feels so good,” Azzi breathed, barely managing to form words.

Paige mumbled again as she continued her movements, a teasing note in her voice as she said, “I know baby. I been tryna tell you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes internally at Paige’s smugness, the need to argue rising. But before she could voice her frustration, Paige’s mouth found her sensitive spot, sucking softly and Azzi’s words caught in her throat. Her body arching involuntarily as her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed.

As Paige continued to move her tongue against Azzi, the teasing pressure of her lips and tongue driving Azzi wild. She was trembling beneath her, breathless, every inch of her skin tingling with sensation. Unable to ocntain herself, Azzi whispered her name again, the sound escaping before she could think about it.

“Fuck Paige…”

Paige didn’t stop. She only hummed softly in her response, “Hmm?”

Azzi’s body arched involuntarily at the vibration, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair as she tried to steady herself. “I’ve never fucking felt this before,” she admitted, the words showing her desperation. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could swear she heard it echoing in her ears.

Paige’s response was a soft knowing murmur against Azzi. “Mhmm…” She didn’t slow down. If anything her movements became more deliberate, more intense as Azzi’s grip on her hair tightened.

The pressure in Azzi’s stomach was building, a tension that only seemed to grow stronger with every brush of Paige’s lips against her. Unable to hold still, Azzi shifted beneath her, her hips moving to instinctively close the nonexistent space between them, to feel Paige lips more fully.

At this Paige pushed firmply against Azzi’s stomach. The pressure heightening the tension in Azzi’s core, a wave of heat sweeping through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, a soft, strangled sound escaping her throat as the intensity of it threatened to overwhelm her. She was choking on her own breath, unable to keep up with the pleasure that was flooding her senses.

Every inch of her was on fire, the tension in her stomach so tight so tight, it felt like she needed to stop. Azzi’s breath came in ragged gasps, each sound leaving her throat a little more choked, a little more desperate.

She had no control left and before she realizes what’s happening her entire back arches upward toward Paige who's still pushing down on her stomach as her tongue continues working. Azzi’s entire body is trembling as she screams out, “Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes...I’m coming Paige.”

Paige winces slightly at how hard Azzi pulls her hair as she slows her movements, letting Azzi ride out what seems to be a new feeling for her.

When she’s done, Paige slowly kisses her way up Azzi’s body.

Azzi lay back against the soft sheets, her body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Her breath came in uneven gasps as her eyes slowly fluttered open, gazing at Paige. The room seemed to hum with a quiet, lingering energy that made her chest tighten in both awe and disbelief. She had never felt anything like this before. Never had she been completely undone by someone like she had just been by Paige.

She wiped her thumb across Paige’s chin as Paige leaned down, her lips capturing Azzi’s in a slow, lingering kiss. The kiss was messy as Paige let Azzi taste everything before she pulled away.

Azzi smiled up at her still tasting the remnants of the kiss, the sweetness of her and the alcohol mixed together, and it sent a shiver of disbelief down her spine.

“I’ve never…” Azzi started, her voice hoarse as she looked up at Paige, who was now standing. Her gaze was focused, but Azzi’s eyes were still wide, her chest tightening at the thought. “I didn’t think I could… feel like that.”

"You should know by now, Azzi," Paige said, her voice low and laced with that intoxicating confidence, "I don’t do things halfway."

Azzi’s stomach fluttered at the sound of those words, the teasing yet assured tone leaving her breathless. She watched as Paige moved toward her closet, the subtle grace in her movements sending a spark of anticipation coursing through Azzi’s veins. Paige seemed to move with intention. As she stood there, just inside the closet, Azzi could see her reaching for something—a small box she’d pulled down from a shelf.

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige slowly made her way back toward the bed, unboxing what was inside. Azzi’s stomach tightened, a shiver running through her body as she caught sight of the unfamiliar object. There was something about it that made her heart race, her mind whirring with a mixture of curiosity and nervous excitement. She had no idea what to expect, but the thought of it was enough to make her pulse quicken.

Paige reached the bed, standing over Azzi, her eyes filled with that same daring glint that made Azzi's own breath catch. She didn’t say a word at first, just looked at Azzi—her gaze steady, almost searching.

"Can I keep going?" Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi felt the question hit her like a wave, her pulse accelerating as she met Paige’s gaze. She didn’t even hesitate. She nodded quickly, almost too eagerly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, the sound low and almost fond, as she looked at Azzi’s reaction.

Paige takes off the rest of her clothes, adjusting the harness against herself methodically as Azzi watches, never breaking her eyes away from Paige.

Paige settled onto the bed, hovering above Azzi, her body close but not quite touching, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s heart was hammering in her chest as she watched Paige, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. For a moment, everything seemed to pause—the room, the world outside, and even the way Paige was looking at her. Paige’s eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too, something gentle, almost questioning, as if she was waiting for Azzi to decide where this would go.

But Azzi didn’t want to wait anymore.

Before Paige could make another move, Azzi surprised her, gently pushing her back to sit against the headboard. The action was smooth, calculated, and surprisingly assertive for Azzi, who had always been the more reserved one between them. The boldness of it made Paige's pulse race, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she looked at Azzi, her brow furrowing, a subtle question hanging in the air.

“Are you sure?” Paige’s voice was soft, laced with concern, but her eyes were full of something else—something that made Azzi’s stomach flip.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She gave a slow nod, her gaze never leaving Paige’s. Her hand reached out, pulling Paige closer, guiding her into a kiss that was both tender and urgent. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a kiss that conveyed everything Azzi had been feeling. As their lips met, Azzi could feel the heat of Paige's body so close to hers, their breaths mingling in the soft air between them.

Azzi’s hips began to move against the strap, a slow grind that had Paige’s breath catching in her throat as she listened to Azzi’s breathing pick up again.

Paige pulled back, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she gazed into her eyes, searching for something.

“Are you sure?” Paige’s voice was hushed, almost a whisper, as she placed a hand on Azzi’s hip, steadying her gently. The question wasn’t one of doubt—Paige knew Azzi could make her own decisions. It was a question wrapped in care, a need for reassurance in the midst of the raw energy between them.

Azzi blinked, her heart racing, her breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. All she felt was certainty—a certainty that she wanted this, wanted her, and nothing else mattered. With a soft laugh, one that held a trace of disbelief and excitement, Azzi leaned forward, pressing her lips to Paige’s in a quick, teasing kiss.

“Yes, baby,” she murmured, her words almost playful but filled with undeniable sincerity. “I’m sure.”

Paige smiles softly at Azzi as she adjusts the strap, the tip of it pressing against Azzi who bites her lip at the feeling.

Azzi lowers herself further down, Paige’s hand steady on her hips as she eases her into it slowly.

Paige's voice dropped to a low whisper as she leaned in closer, her breath brushing against Azzi’s ear as she kissed her neck a few times. "Can you take all of it, baby?" she asked, the words laced with a gentleness but a teasing edge.

At Paige's words, Azzi's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling quickly as she nodded, her response breathy and full of anticipation.

With this confirmation Paige pulls Azzi down further making a loud gasp escape her lips as her eyes roll back. Paige slightly groans as it presses against her.

After adjusting, Azzi slowly starts circling her hips, her hands interlocking with Paige’s that were holding her waist as she looks down at the blonde who’s watching her in admiration. Azzi can’t help but moan as she moves against it, feeling it in her stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Azzi whispers, her eyes still shut in ecstasy as she now braces herself with her hands on Paige’s shoulders. Paige is leaning against the headboard watching Azzi with low eyes, breathy sounds escaping her as every movement Azzi makes presses against her harder.

Paige licks her lips looking up at Azzi whispering “You look so good riding it baby.”

Azzi chuckled softly at Paige’s words, a playful, almost teasing sound leaving her lips as she brushed her hair to one side, her eyes never leaving Paige as she did.

Paige groans at the sight using her hands to move Azzi further up the strap before bringing her back down a couple of times.

Azzi gasps at this, “Fuck Paige.”

“I know…I feel it too baby,” Paige whispers her voice hoarse as she feels herself getting closer.

The room was heavy with the sound of their breath as they lost themselves in the moment for a few minutes. Never breaking eye contact as they savored the moment.

But the air started to fill with a thick desire as Azzi’s movements quickened, her hips pressing against Paige in a rhythm that made both of them moan in each other's mouths. But then, breaking through the haze of their passion, the sound of Azzi’s phone buzzing on the dresser cut through the silence, the ringtone sharp and jarring.

At first, neither of them acknowledged it, too wrapped up in one another, but then it buzzed again and again. Paige glanced over at the screen, catching the name Cam flashing brightly across it. She tensed for a moment, wondering if Azzi would pull away to answer, but instead, Azzi didn’t skip a beat. Her movements didn’t falter as she kept her steady rhythm, eyes still locked with Paige’s, filled with a focused intensity that made Paige’s heart race.

With a low, breathy laugh, Azzi reached over, her hand brushing against the dresser a few times until her fingers wrapped around the phone. She didn’t hesitate for a second, holding down the power button with a steady hand before swiping her finger across the screen to turn it off completely. The phone fell back onto the dresser with a soft thud, and Azzi didn’t miss a beat, her body leaning into Paige again, pushing her hips against Paige’s with a renewed urgency, as if the phone had never been there at all.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, a low, amused sound escaping her.

Azzi ka basically bouncing against Paige now, gripping her shoulders for dear life as she crys out “Oh fuck..”

Paige is struggling to not come undone before Azzi finishes, her head laid back against the headboard, her eyes low as she watches Azzi on top of her. Azzi notices this so she leans back to give Paige a better view resting her hands on the mattress as she continues moving it in and out of her.

Paige whimpers out at she takes in the sight, “Fuck I can feel everything Az, you feel so good…”

Azzi is gasping now as their eyes lock on one another neither one of them look away as they get lost in the feeling.

Paige adjusts herself slightly so she’s hitting Azzi at a new angle that makes her gasp loudly mumbling, “Mhm you feel so good baby.”

“You like how I feel?” Paige asks, her voice barely containing the whine she tried to hold in.

Azzi nods quickly as she quickens the pace muttering out “I fucking love how you feel”

As Paige threw her head back, a soft gasp escaping her lips, Azzi looked down at her with a look of intense focus, her breath shallow as she searched Paige's expression. "You close?" she asked, her voice a low, almost teasing whisper.

Paige, eyes heavy with desire, could only nod in response, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed up at Azzi through half-lidded eyes. Her body was already trembling with the buildup, every nerve alight from the touch.

Azzi’s lips curled into a faint smirk, her gaze flickering from Paige’s eyes to her lips before she leaned down and pressed herself further into her, pulling her into a kiss. The kiss was deep and consuming, their bodies tightening against one another as Azzi pulled Paige closer.

The kiss didn’t last long Paige pulling back mumbling, “Fuck just like that Az…ride it just like that.”

At Paige’s praise, something snapped inside Azzi–a sudden rush of need flooding her system. Without warning, she pushed down harder, the feeling of Paige beneath her driving her wild. Her legs began to tremble, every muscle taut. Desperate sounds–moans, gasps–tumbled from her lips, raw and completely untamed

“Oh my god,” Azzi moaned, the words barely audible as they’re choked out through her shallow breaths. The pressure in her stomach snapped as she came undone all over Paige’s legs.

Paige immediately groaned in response, her grip on Azzi tightening as she pulled her deeper into her before she was coming undone too, muttering out Azzi’s name as she did so.

The kiss that followed was anything but gentle. It was messy and uncoordinated as they melted into one another desperately. Paige’s mouth was rough against Azzi’ as their tongues tangled with one another. Azzi’s body moved faster, legs shaking still as they both came undone again in less than a few seconds.

Azzi slumped against Paige, her forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder as she caught her breath, their slick bodies tangled together. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing and the soft chuckles that escaped both of them, the aftermath of what had just unfolded between them settling in.

Feeling extremely sensitive, Azzi eased herself off of the toy before settling back on Paige’s lap in a more comfortable position. Her arms loosely wrapped around Paige’s neck as she let out a breathless laugh, her voice still tinged with disbelief. “Oh my god,” she said, laughing again, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Paige tilted her head back against the headboard, her own laugh low and satisfied. “Told you,” she murmured, a teasing grin spreading across her face as she glanced at Azzi through hooded eyes.

Azzi let out a small, exasperated laugh, weakly pushing Paige’s shoulder, though it lacked any real force. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her smile gave her away. Her energy was spent, her limbs felt like jelly, and all she could do was lean against Paige, shaking her head slightly as the last remnants of laughter faded between them. Paige’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they sat there, wrapped in the comfortable silence of their shared intimacy.

The two of them just sat there, holding onto one another, the room quiet and filled with a warm, lingering intimacy.

Eventually, Azzi sighed softly, shifting to climb off Paige’s lap completely, her legs shaky but steady enough to settle beside her. Paige gave her a small smirk as she undid the harness, tossing it casually onto the floor before standing and disappearing into the bathroom.

Azzi watched her go, her body still humming from everything. When Paige returned, she held a towel in her hand, the edges slightly damp from warm water. Without saying a word, she knelt down in front of Azzi, her expression soft but focused.

Paige gently lifted one of Azzi’s legs, holding her ankle as she began to wipe the towel along her skin, carefully. The warmth of the cloth combined with Paige’s touch sent a shiver through Azzi. She blinked, her gaze locking on Paige as her chest swelled with something she couldn’t quite put into words.

Azzi stared down at her, her eyes wide and filled with awe. “You don’t have to—” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige glanced up at her, a soft smile curving her lips as she shook her head. “Yes I do,” she said simply, her voice low.

The tenderness in Paige’s actions, the quiet care she was showing, made Azzi’s heart thrum in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Paige’s cheek as she watched her, completely enamored by the girl in front of her. Paige didn’t look up again, too focused on making sure Azzi was comfortable and taken care of, but the slight curve of her lips gave her away.

Once Paige finished, she set the towel aside and climbed back onto the bed. She leaned back against the pillows, extending an arm toward Azzi in invitation. Azzi didn’t hesitate, curling into Paige’s side, her head resting on her chest as she let out a contented sigh.

Paige tugged the blanket over both of them, the soft fabric cocooning their still-warm bodies. The room settled into a peaceful quiet, save for the sound of their steady breaths syncing together.

Azzi's hand absentmindedly traced light patterns along Paige’s stomach, her mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep but laced with humor.

Paige chuckled softly, pressing her lips to the top of Azzi’s head. “And you’re trouble,” she replied.

Azzi let out a small laugh but didn’t respond, her breathing already slowing as sleep began to claim her. Paige’s hand rested on Azzi’s back, her thumb gently moving in soothing circles.

As they drifted off, the weight of the night melted away, leaving nothing but the comfort of each other’s presence

…

The next morning, Paige was already up when Azzi’s eyes fluttered open. The faint smell of coffee and something warm and buttery filled the air, coaxing her out of sleep. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains, and when she turned her head, she found Paige standing at the side of the bed with a tray of food in her hands, her expression warm and slightly smug.

“Good morning,” Paige said. “Figured I owed you breakfast after last night.”

Azzi couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Her chest swelled with affection as she took in the sight of Paige, still a little rumpled from sleep, but thoughtful as ever. She reached out, grabbing Paige by the wrist and tugging her down into a soft kiss. “You’re making it impossible not to adore you already,” Azzi murmured against her lips.

Paige chuckled as she pulled back, setting the tray on the bed. “Careful. You’re gonna give me a big head.”

Azzi laughed softly, sitting up and stretching before settling in beside Paige to eat.

When they finished, Azzi leaned over to grab her phone from the nightstand. She hesitated for a moment before turning it on, the screen immediately lighting up with a flood of notifications. Texts, missed calls, social media alerts—it was all there.

Azzi’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t bother looking at most of them. Instead, she tapped on Cam’s name, typing out a quick message: Can you meet me in my room?

The reply came back almost instantly, which was rare: Yeah, of course.

Azzi stared at the screen for a moment, then set the phone down, letting out a quiet sigh. Paige, who had been watching her from the corner of her eye, reached out to place a reassuring hand on Azzi’s thigh. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said with a small smile, though her tone was thoughtful. “Just need to talk to Cam.”

Paige nodded, leaning back on her hands. “You want me to stick around or go with you?”

Azzi glanced at her, the warmth in her gaze unmistakable. “You can come with me,” she said softly. “If you want.”

Paige smiled, leaning over to kiss Azzi on the temple. “I got you.”

Azzi and Paige made their way to Azzi’s room. They currently sat side by side on the couch, Paige leaning back casually, her arm draped along the top, while Azzi scrolled on her phone, music playing in the background.

When Cam arrived, he barely hesitated before stepping inside. His eyes darted between the two of them, and he immediately moved toward Azzi, arms outstretched to pull her into a hug. But Azzi raised her hand, stopping him mid-step.

“We need to talk,” she said simply.

Cam froze, his brow furrowing. “Talk about what?” he asked, though there was an edge to his voice now.

Azzi gestured toward the door to her room. “In there.”

Cam glanced at Paige, who was still seated on the couch, watching silently, her expression unreadable. He huffed but followed Azzi into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

The moment it clicked shut, Cam turned on her. “Did you turn off your phone last night?” His voice was sharp, his tone teetering on aggressive.

Azzi didn’t flinch as she answered simply, “Yes. But we need to talk.”

Her calmness seemed to irritate him further. “Clearly, we need to fucking talk if you’re turning off your phone when I’m calling you,” he snapped. “I was trying to tell you I couldn’t make it to the party—”

Azzi let out a soft chuckle, cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t there.”

“What?” Cam asked, his confusion mixing with frustration. “What were you doing that you turned off your phone when I called, then?”

Azzi paused, considering her next words carefully. She could feel the weight of the moment, but her decision had already been made. Meeting his gaze directly, she said it plainly: “I was fucking Paige.”

Cam’s entire body stiffened, his jaw clenching as her words registered. “What the fuck did you just say?” he spat.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, almost defiant smile at finally being able to do this. So this time, she repeated herself slowly, enunciating every word as if daring him to challenge her.

“I. Was. Fucking. Paige.”

Cam’s face twisted in confusion, anger, and disbelief as the weight of Azzi’s words hung heavy in the air. “Azzi, what do you mean?” he asked, his voice faltering slightly as if he hoped she might backtrack or offer a different explanation.

Azzi let out a sharp laugh, almost incredulous. “It means exactly what I’m saying, Cam.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, her patience clearly waning with the boy she wanted nothing to do with anymore. “If you really want me to get specific, I can, but I really don’t think you want that.”

Cam shook his head rapidly, as if trying to erase her words from existence. “You can’t be friends with her anymore,” he said firmly, his tone demanding in a way that made Azzi pause.

And then she laughed. Full-on, head-tilted-back laughter, the kind that made it clear she wasn’t even trying to take him seriously. “Oh my god,” she said, catching her breath and looking at him with pure disbelief. “You’re actually stupid.”

Before he could respond, Azzi’s expression hardened. “You know what? Forget it. We’re done. I’m breaking up with you.”

Cam’s eyes widened, his face reddening as he scrambled to regain the upper hand. “You’re breaking up with me?” he repeated, incredulous. “Well, good, because I cheated on you.”

Azzi’s brows shot up, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk tugging at her lips, she said dryly, “Good for you, Cameron. I’m sure those three minutes were absolutely unforgettable for you.”

The words hit like a slap, and Cam’s face turned a deep shade of red, his embarrassment morphing into anger. Without thinking, he lashed out, smacking a framed picture of him and Azzi off her desk. The glass shattered as it hit the floor, the sound echoing in the room.

Azzi didn’t flinch, her expression was calm and unbothered. She knew he wasn’t going to actually do anything to hurt her. She just stood there, arms crossed, watching him like he was a child throwing a tantrum.

But the crash brought Paige into the room almost instantly. She appeared in the doorway, her sharp eyes darting from the broken frame on the floor to Cam’s flushed, angry face. Without hesitation, Paige stepped forward, her tall frame towering over Cam.

Cam turned on her, getting right in her face. The height difference was laughable—he had to tilt his head up just to meet her eyes. “What are you gonna do, huh?” he spat, his voice shaking with misplaced bravado.

Paige didn’t say a word. She just stared down at him, her expression unreadable. It was the kind of look that didn’t need words—calm, but with an unspoken warning behind it.

Azzi, sensing the tension rise, quickly stepped forward and grabbed Paige’s arm. “It’s fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm, not wanting things to escalate. She tugged gently, urging Paige to step back.

Cam’s eyes flicked to Azzi’s hand on Paige’s arm, and his jaw tightened. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath before shoving past Paige and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the crunch of glass under Azzi’s foot as she moved to pick up the broken frame. Paige bent down to help, her gaze softening as she looked at Azzi. “You okay?”

Azzi nodded, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah,” she said lightly, glancing at the door Cam had just slammed shut. “I think he took that about as well as expected.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back and shaking her head, amused but undeniably smug. “Guess I did keep my promise,” she murmured, reaching for Azzi’s hand and pulling her closer.

Azzi let out a light laugh, rolling her eyes as she shifted closer, their knees touching now. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she teased, though the softness in her gaze betrayed her words.

Paige ignored the playful jab, her hand coming up to cradle Azzi’s cheek. She stared into Azzi’s eyes for a moment, the weight of everything between them settling into something unshakable.

“How was it last night though?” Paige asked, her tone low and laced with that confidence Azzi could never resist.

Azzi’s smile widened, but she refused to indulge her too much. “You already know how it was,” she replied, her voice equally soft and teasing. “It was worth breaking up with him for.”

Paige laughed again, the sound warm and full of life. She didn’t say anything else, letting her actions speak louder than words. She leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s in a kiss that held every promise she had ever made.

In the background, the lyrics of What You Heard played softly from Azzi’s speaker, the ending verse weaving through the air like it was written for this moment:

"I try my best, you know I did / I try to give you what you want / But I just couldn’t handle it..."

Azzi’s fingers threaded through Paige’s hair as they broke apart, her forehead resting against Paige’s. “You’re much better,” Azzi whispered, the words carrying all the emotions she couldn’t quite put into sentences.

Paige smiled against her lips, pulling her even closer. “Good,” she said simply, her voice full of quiet assurance.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

408 notes · View notes

cameronsprincess · 2 days ago

Note

Do you think you could do somwething with season 4 rafe x pogue reader. Using I need to hear you not just feel you

raaaaah yeah yeah! season 4 rafey with a pogue!reader is😣😍 alsooo “i need to hear you not just feel you” is so yummy.

CW: smut! 18+ only! drinking, reader and rafe’s first time hanging out, fem receiving oral, strong language ig?

note: yeah i used sofia in this, but simply bc she has on the island club outfit and reader is a bartender at the island club!

masterlists.

rafe cameron.

that name sent most people running the other direction on this island— especially people like you… a pogue. but rafe didn’t scare you away, no, instead he intrigued you.

people had always been slightly scared of rafe, the man had a reputation for sure, and he lived up to that reputation. it wasn’t until his dad had died though that he’d really become a force to reckon with. rafe was careless in the way he handled things, he had the entire police force in his pocket, could get away with pretty much whatever he wanted.

so why were you so interested in a man who could do you more harm than good? the answer wasn’t simple. you’d honestly loved the darkness that surrounded him, but you’d never speak that out loud, so instead you settled on the fact that he was just damn good to look at.

tall, broad shoulders, big arms, nice hands. tanned skin that paired beautifully with his ocean-blue eyes. he’d buzzed his hair in the last year, it suited him. any time you saw him, your mind buzzed with thoughts of running your hands over his buzzed head, sinking your blunt nails into his tanned and toned shoulders, roaming your hands over every inch of perfectly chiseled skin on his body. the thought of his perfectly plump and pink lips on yours sent an electrifying bout of pleasure rushing straight to your clit.

you were leaned up against the bar at the island club, your mind swirling in on all the dirty thoughts you’d had about rafe cameron as you stared at him from across the room. the man was a walking fucking heart throb, tanned skin, tight white polo— the sleeves squeezing at his biceps snugly — light khakis and designer shoes. his large, veiny hand gripped a whiskey glass, the rim of it pressed against his bottom lip.

as if he could feel your intense stare, he looked over at you. deep, bottomless pools of blue staring right back at you. your heart dropped into your throat, a shiver coasting down your spine as you held his stare. he smiled, winked and then returned to his conversation.

“hey, we need more bud lights from the back, you just gonna eye fuck rafe all night or can you go get it?” your co-worker, estelle, snipped.

you turned your attention on her, giving a small fake smile. she could be a bitch, but she’d meant well.

“yeah, sure thing i’ll go grab it. how many cases?”

she rolled her eyes, loudly smacking her gum before smiling. “two.”

you let out a slow breath, sliding past her and through the dining area. once you reached the double push doors that lead into the kitchen, your hand reaches out to step inside but a warm, rough grip landing on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“didn’t anyone teach you it isn’t polite to stare?” rafe’s deep, smooth voice said, the sound traveling straight between your legs.

your eyes flit down to where he’s grasping your wrist, butterflies and warmth filling your tummy at the feel of his skin against yours. his touch burned your skin, warming you from the inside out. you stared at him for a short moment, a small smile tilting his lips at your lack of response.

“can you not speak?” he says lowly.

you startle from your trance, forcing your eyes on his. blue. so fucking blue you felt as if you’d drown if you stared too long.

you finally shook your wrist from his grasp, pushing open the kitchen doors, stopping halfway inside before you said, “i’m sorry… i- i don’t really have a reason for staring i just.. my apologies mr. cameron.”

sucking in a deep breath you disappear into the kitchen, rounding a corner and pulling open the walk-in coolers door. you step inside, shaking off the nerves and tension that ran through you. looking down at your wrist you swore you could still feel him, touching you, gripping your wrist so tightly you thought he wanted to burn his fingerprints into your skin.

the cold air of the large cooler did nothing to tame the fire burning throughout your entire body. you’d lived on this island your entire life, grown up here, you’d known who rafe was since you were old enough to grasp people’s names. but he’d never acknowledged your existence, not until today.

you slowly breathe in through your nose, slowly pushing it back out through your mouth. it was fine. you were fine. he’s just another man.

after collecting yourself you’d decided you’d been back here long enough, estelle was going to rip you a new one for taking so long to grab two cases of bud light, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. gripping the two cases of beer, you pushed the cooler door open with your shoulder, made your way through the kitchen and back into the dining area. with your head down, firm grip on the cases of beer, you walked straight to the bar.

a scoff sounds behind you, making you roll your eyes to yourself.

“if i would’ve known it’d take you nearly twenty minutes to grab two cases of beer, i would’ve just done it myself.” estelle snips, jerking the two cases from your hands and making her way to the other end of the bar.

you let out a defeated sigh, bracing your hands on the bar and letting your head hang. there was only three hours left in your shift. you’d be fine, you could do this.

but when you lifted your head, looking back in the direction of where rafe stood, your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you found he was already looking right at you.

—

“thank you mr. jennings, i’ll be sure to bring you some apple pie next time i make it,” you smile at the older gentleman as he finishes his drink, setting the glass down and wishing you a good night. “good night, sir. get home safely.”

once the older man disappears out the front doors you let out a long sigh. you were exhausted. he was the last guest in for the night, and you were ready to close the bar down and go home.

your boss locks the doors, nothing but the sounds of kitchen workers moving about to close the kitchen and a faint beat of the music playing through the club’s speakers filled the air.

you make quick work of wiping everything down, organizing the liquor bottles— most expensive up top, mid priced in the middle and cheap liquor down low — and setting the last bit of glasses into the bars dishwasher. once you finish, you wipe your hands on a worn white sani-rag, printing out your end of the night report and grab your stuff before heading into the back to collect your money for the night.

it doesn’t take long to get settled with josh, exiting his office and clocking out before you’re stepping out into the back parking lot. the humid, salty air hits your skin and you suck in a welcome breath, not realizing you’d been desperate for fresh air until now.

“can we talk about that staring problem of yours now?”

your body tenses at the low, raspy voice. you slowly turn toward the parking spaces, finding rafe cameron leaned against his truck, arms crossed over his chest.

“i.. why are you back here? members park out front, you know?”

rafe laughs, pushing off his truck and tucking his hands in his pockets. “yeah, well, i knew you’d be back here.”

your heart skips a beat, the humid air feeling thicker all of a sudden, making it hard to breathe. you pull your hair out of the messy bun you’d put it in while closing the bar, letting your unruly strands fall down your back. rafe’s eyes tracked the movements, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“still can’t speak? it’s not polite to ignore. we really need to work on your manners. staring, not responding when spoken to…”

he slowly begins walking toward you, your heart pounding wildly in your chest with every step he took. it isn’t until he’s standing directly in front of you that you snap out of the trance you’d been in, taking one slow step back.

rafe smirks, a small and subtle smirk but it’s there nonetheless.

“are you scared of me?” he says lowly, taking one step forward, closing the distance again.

“no.” you breathed out, swallowing thickly and staring up into his eyes.

he reaches out a hand, running his ringed fingers down your cheek. you shudder, your eyes fluttering shut. rafe’s hand drops back down to his side, “you going home for the night?”

you blink rapidly, trying to clear the lust filled fog that’s clouded your mind. “y-yeah. i’m going home.”

he chuckles. “come to my house, we can hang out.”

what? did rafe cameron just invite you to come hang out at tannyhill? the part of you that was infatuated with him was jumping for joy, you’d always wondered what it’d be like to hang out with rafe cameron. but the logical part of you was questioning why he wanted to hang out with you.

“w-why?” you asked hesitantly.

rafe’s fingers grab at a piece of your hair, twirling it around in his fingers before dropping it. “could be fun. come on, don’t tell me you’re scared of fun?”

your breath hitches in your throat. you’re not sure why he’s being so persistent, but you don’t want him to think you’re just like everyone else on this island, terrified of him. with a bright smile, you reply, “of course not. let’s go, could be fun, right?”

rafe grins, the sides of his eyes crinkling from how big his smile was. “right. let’s go.”

he grabs your hand, pulling you the few steps back toward his truck and opening the passenger door for you. once you’re inside and buckled, he closes it, and you take the few seconds it takes him to round the truck and get in to soak in your surroundings.

it smells like him. expensive cologne and a hint of cigarette smoke. the smell is oddly intoxicating. you breathe in deeply through your nose, letting it out slowly as your eyes take in the expensive leather interior, running your finger across the dash. not a speck of dust in sight, not surprising for a man like rafe cameron.

rafe climbs into his truck, his fingers tightly wrapped around the steering wheel as he stares over at you. you force yourself to meet his gaze, chuckling nervously. “what?”

he breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and running his hands down the sides of the steering wheel, placing his key in the ignition and bringing the trucks engine to life. “nothing.”

the drive to tannyhill isn’t long, maybe ten minutes tops, but the silence that filled the air between the two of you was so thick, filled with something you couldn’t quite discern. rafe stops outside the tall, metal gates, rolling his window down and typing a code into the small security code box. the gates roll open slowly, and rafe pulls up the long driveway, stopping his truck at the front door.

he kills the engine, casting you a quick glance before he’s opening his door. “you coming?” he asks.

you swallow around the nerves you’re feeling, nodding your head and opening your own door. you follow rafe silently up the steps to the front porch, stopping behind him while he makes quick work of unlocking and opening the door.

he steps inside, tossing his keys onto a table beside the door before walking toward the kitchen, leaving you to shut the door and stand awkwardly in the entryway. he pops his head around a corner seconds later, “you gonna stand there all night, or do you want a drink?”

oh. well, you should’ve known he wanted you to follow him, that was your mistake. you were just so nervous, you couldn’t think straight.

you made your way into the kitchen, finding rafe standing at the large marble island that sat in the middle of the spacious room. he smiles when his eyes find yours. “stop being so nervous, ahhh.. sorry, what was your name again?”

you smile, telling him your name before shifting the conversation to his house. “this place is nice, did you get it when your dad-” you stopped yourself, noticing the tension in his shoulders before he quickly shook it off, turning to grab two glasses out of the cupboard. he places them gently on the island, grabbing an expensive bottle of whiskey from another cupboard and pouring one of the glasses full. “whiskey?” he asks, his eyebrows rose as he watched you.

“no thank you, i’ll just have water.”

he laughs at that. “if you insist.”

he opens the fridge, pouring water into your cup from one of those fancy filtered water pitchers before placing it back in its spot and handing you the glass. he grabs his own glass, bringing it to his lips and studying your features.

he lets out a breath, sipping from his glass before setting it down and leaning back against the counter. “so, how long have you lived here, sweetheart?”

you choke on your sip of water, the pet name catching you completely off guard. you lift your head to find an amused rafe staring back at you, the corners of his lips slightly lifted in a smirk. “shit, sorry,” you apologize.

he laughs, a deep, true laugh before pushing off the counter and grabbing you some paper towels. he lets you wipe your face before he’s cleaning off the counter top and tossing the paper towels into the trash. he makes his way back toward you, his eyes dragging slowly from your feet all the way up to the top of your head. he bites at his bottom lip, “you never answered me, how long have you lived on kildare?”

you crane your neck to look up into his eyes. “my whole life.. so twenty-three years.”

he reaches out to push some hair behind your ear, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “so you’re only two years younger than me.. and you work at the club, so you’re not from figure eight… pogue i’m assuming?”

you swallow around the knot in your throat, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you when rafe reaches out and pulls your bottom lip from between your teeth, his thumb pressing firmly against it before he’s pulling away.

“you’re very pretty, it’s a shame i didn’t know you existed until now.”

his words stung more than they should’ve. you knew he didn’t know you existed, it was painfully obvious in the way he never recognized your pining for him since you were old enough to understand what it meant to have feelings for a boy. he was kook prince. high up on the food chain. and you were just… you. but hearing him say it out loud was like a slap to the face.

rafe’s warm hand cupping your cheek snaps you out of your pity party, his words caressing you. “stop thinking so much. i was a piece of shit back then, you know it. i know it. this entire goddamn island knows it.”

you knit your brows in confusion. “you’re not a piece of shit, rafe. you went through a lot.”

he gives a dry laugh. “that’s the understatement of the century.”

he turns to grab his glass, downing it in one go before he’s facing you again. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, and the air is so thick with sexual tension you could cut it with a knife. rafe’s eyes flit from yours and down to your lips, his thoughts written all over his face. he wanted to kiss you.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, watching as rafe tracks the movement with his eyes. he groans, the sound deep and causing your panties to grow wet with arousal. when rafe’s eyes meet yours again they’re dark with lust, the tension in the room now suffocating you.

“rafe.. what do you-”

your words die on your tongue when rafe grips the back of your neck harshly, pulling your face into his and smashing his lips with yours. your hands grip at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin, leaving behind crescent shaped moons in his smooth skin. rafe groans into your mouth, his hands running down your sides and gripping your thighs. his rough palms squeeze at your bare thighs, lifting you up and placing you on the counter.

you moan when rafe’s lips trail from your lips to your neck, working down to your jaw and chest. his teeth nip at your jawline, pulling a small whimper from you. he soothes where he’d bitten with his tongue, the wet and warm muscle against your skin causing goosebumps to sprout on your arms.

“take this off.” rafe groans, his fingers tugging at your island club polo that’s tucked into your baby blue skirt.

you quickly comply, pulling the polo out from where its tucked into your skirt and over your head. your eyes land on rafe’s both of your chests heaving with heavy breaths as you sit shirtless in front of the man you’d only ever dreamed about.

rafe’s fingers brush up the length of your bare stomach, stopping once they reach the under wire of your bra. he flattens his hand, running it up and over the fabric of your lace bra, cupping one of your tits in his hand and squeezing at it softly. your hands fly behind you, palms flat against the countertop while you throw your head back. rafe switches to the other breast, giving it equal attention, pinching a nipple between his fingers and pulling before releasing.

the loss of rafe’s touch has your head lifting, finding him standing in front of you, breathless and unsure of what to do next. you reach your hand out, tugging at his white polo, silently begging him to take it off.

rafe pulls off the shirt, tossing it to the floor with yours before his eyes are on you again. “you sure about this? we don’t even know each other… we don’t have-”

you shush him, running your hands up his toned stomach before wrapping your arms around his neck. you pull him forward, placing a soft kiss against his lips. “shhh.. don’t ruin it, rafe. don’t think about it. just do it. whatever you want.”

rafe’s eyes darken at your words. you’d just told him he could do whatever he wanted with you. he kisses you again, soft and slow while his fingers made quick work unclasping your bra, letting it fall in your lap. next he’s working your skirt off you, breaking his lips from yours to take in the lacey white thong you wore. he smirked when he saw the small wet patch in your panties.

“someone’s needy.” he jokes, pushing his fingers into the waistband and sliding the panties down your thighs. you lift your ass off the counter to help him remove your thong, watching him intently as he tosses it to the floor.

your lips slightly part, opening them to speak but a squeal comes out in their place when rafe grips your thighs and pulls your ass toward the edge of the counter. “lay back f’me, spread your legs.”

you do as he says, laying back against the counter, your feet flat on the edge as you spread your legs wide for him. a low growl rumbles out of rafe when his eyes land on your swollen, dripping pussy.

“god you’re so wet,” he rasps, dropping into a squatted position, his face pressing between your legs and inhaling your scent. “smell so fuckin’ sweet… bet you taste sweet too.”

a moan escapes you when rafe’s lips begin kissing at your inner thighs, working their way toward your clit. he softly kisses your sensitive bundle of nerves, your hips bucking up. rafe chuckles, placing one hand on your hip and pushing you back down while his other hand had a firm grip on your thigh, keeping you spread open for him.

he licks a hot stripe through your slick folds up to your clit, giving it a slight flick of his tongue. your head rolls to the side on the counter, hands flying to his buzzed head. you run your hands over his head, relishing in the feel of his buzzcut beneath your palms, moans and whimpers escaping you as rafe works your pussy with his mouth and tongue. he sucks your clit into his mouth, releasing your thigh and pressing his middle finger inside you.

he mumbles something unintelligible against your pussy, the vibrations making your inner walls flutter around his finger. rafe slowly works his finger in and out of you, slipping another inside when your thighs tense against the counter. he sucks and flicks at your clit, his fingers pushing in and out of you at a fast pace. you’re so close to coming, you can feel it in the way your body was tensing and your pussy was pulsing.

rafe releases your clit with a pop, his darkened over eyes finding yours as he continued to work you with his fingers. “i need to hear you, baby. not just feel you. let me hear how good you feel.”

your hands fall, a loud thwack resounding in the air from how hard you’d smacked the countertop. you scream out rafe’s name, your legs shaking as rafe goes back to sucking and licking at your clit, his thick fingers never slowing their movements.

“oh god… rafe! please? please fuck… feels so good.” you moan, your fingers digging into his neck again.

you feel rafe smile against your pussy, his tongue giving slow licks to your clit before he’s sucking it into his mouth again. your orgasm rushes through your seconds later, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you grip rafe’s neck, trying to keep yourself grounded.

rafe’s tongue and fingers work you through the high, never stopping until your body goes limp on the counter. he removes his face from between your legs, standing to his full height and smiling down at you.

“yeah… you’re so fuckin’ sweet.” rafe rasps, popping the button of his khakis before pulling down the zipper and sliding them down his legs. once he removes his boxers, your eyes widen at the sight of his long and thick cock.

rafe smirks, stroking himself slowly as he says, “don’t worry baby, it’s gonna feel so good. just lay back and let me take care of you.”

tagging some moots: @quinnsbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @nemesyaaa @rafescvntyclubgf @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @maybejj @cherryobx @memoirofasparklemuff1n @kiiyomei @dementedkittenribbon @hauntedfawnn

#*ೃ༄ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe x reader

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rorylovesangst · 3 months ago

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A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead

tws: death of a parent, suicidal ideation, abuse/harassment, self inflicted burn (sh), trauma

chapter 1 -> next chapter

word count: 1.2k

Even when you were nestled in your mother's warm belly, coddled by her own blood and flesh, you could tell you were a burden. A miracle, the doctors said when you were born. Your mother's heart stopped beating for 4 minutes while in labor—vital to a fetus and its host. The miracle was the baby bathed in blood and mucus, not the lifeless mother, puckered and pearl.

You didn’t cry when you were born, too occupied trying to get your walnut-sized heart to betray you, set you free of the hell you’d just begun.

You were never a child who cried for attention. Instead, you swallowed your sounds, held your breath, and watched the world through the lens of someone who wasn’t meant to stay. The hole in the shape of a woman you never met was always there, a mark left in the silence—a picture on the wood-paneled wall. Belly swollen, smile wide. No stories to tell, no lullabies, no warmth from the one person who was supposed to make you feel like you belonged.

Instead, it was just the quiet hum of a broken home, where nothing was ever whole enough to be considered sound.

The nurses said you were a fighter, wrapped in white cotton and a pink cap. You survived the nightmare. You were strong.

But strength doesn’t mean survival, does it? It just means you keep waking up. And waking up—day after day—feels more like a punishment.

You spilled coffee down your shirt today. It seared into your skin and left it hot and freckled. Ronny coughed a whiskey-smelling bark into your face when you stammered into the kitchen with water in your eyes and a half-empty coffee pot trembling in your hand. You felt the pull, the familiar flicker in your neck—small but sharp, like a wire snapping in your spine. It tugged your head to the side before you could stop it. Ronny’s face twisted, his lip curling around the cigarette as though your body’s rebellion were some kind of offense. You watched through blurred vision as he slapped a damp rag against your chest and snarled Clean yourself up, bitch through his cigarette before brushing past you, too close to be accidental. You keep your eyes on the streaked linoleum and mutter an apology.

“Blue, honey,” Olive gasped through the doorway, rushing in and plucking the pot from your shaking hand as though it might shatter, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, shallowing back shards of glass. If you tried to speak, you knew it would come out warbly and wet. The buzz radiated under the damp rag like it wanted to remind you it was there, that you were here. Alive, maybe. Existing, at least.

She steered you into the employee bathroom, the fluorescent light hissing overhead like an unwelcome witness. Perched on the cold, cracked toilet seat, you felt her fingers hastily unbuttoning the top four pins of your blouse. When she saw the angry red blooming across your collarbone and down to your breasts, she winced as if the burn had somehow reached out and burned her too.

Twenty-five minutes and half a roll of gauze later, you were back on your heels, tray in hand, weaving through the diner like a ghost. Grease clung in the air, mixing with the sting of antiseptic rising from your skin. You didn’t glance at Ronny as you passed, but the weight of his eyes was enough of a reminder that he was there.

By 11, the diner was mostly empty, its silence broken only by the occasional clatter of a spoon against porcelain. Three regulars slouched over the bar like wilted plants, nursing their coffees and bacon, while two new faces lingered in the shadows of the back corner.

Olive had clocked out at 8, leaving the newcomers to your care. Their eyes snapped to the bandages the moment you approached, their stares like tiny spotlights burning through your sticky skin.

You tugged at the puppet strings of your face, drawing your lips into a smile that felt brittle enough to crack. “Hi. What can I get for you guys?”

Their dirtied hands moved in unison, flipping through the laminated menus with a sound like shuffling paper. Both men hummed, low and indecisive, until the one with the prickly, dark mohawk spoke first.

“I’ll tek ah ham n’ cheese toastie, and some orange juice, bonnie,” he chirped, his voice thick with a Scottish accent, coarse as gravel. His crooked smile curled like a frayed ribbon across his chapped lips, his eyes lingering on your bandages for a beat too long before snapping back to the menu.

“And I’ll jus’ ‘ave a cuppa, light an’ sweet,” the blond huffed in a British accent, his dirt-covered palms sliding the menus across the counter.

“Those will be right out for you,” you say with a small smile before retreating to the back to put in their orders.

Rain taps a steady rhythm on the metal roof as you wait for Tony, the cook, to finish. Glancing out the window, you watch the downpour drench the empty lot. The walk home is going to suck. Of course, you don’t even have an umbrella.

The food bell rings and you're quickly balancing a plate in one hand and their drinks in another. The toastie sizzled on the plate as you slid it in front of the mohawk man—Johnny, you decided, based on the stitched patch on his jacket. The mug landed gently in front of the blond, whose tag says Riley. His eyes flickered up at you as if weighing something, but he said nothing. Johnny didn’t bother hiding his stare.

“Yer chest,” he started, jerking his chin toward the gauze peeking from your blouse. “Looks nasty. Burn?”

Your hand hovered on the edge of the table, fingers tightening around the curve like it might anchor you. For a moment, the words sat heavily on your tongue, like pills you were too afraid to swallow.

“Just an accident,” you muttered, the smile on your lips wilting at the edges.

“That so?” Johnny leaned back, his yellow construction jacket creaking as he shifted. His accent softened, as though he was testing the weight of your lie. “Guess this place gets rougher than it looks, eh?”

You huff out a laugh that makes your sternum stutter like a kindergartner on the first day of school.

Riley—the blond—stirred sugar into his coffee with slow, deliberate motions. His gaze is like a dagger, the blade barely nicking your skin. Johnny’s stare doesn't let go either. He’s waiting for more, expecting more—like it’s not enough. You can feel the tick of the words in your neck, the way they press against your skin like a bruise.

Before you can stop it, you feel the familiar flicker—a twitch, a sharp pull that catches your breath. Your head jerks sideways, and you hear the strange, strangled sound of a laugh—an involuntary, sharp noise escaping you, even though it isn’t funny. You want to shove it back down and swallow it back inside you, but it’s out there, splintered in the air between you.

Riley doesn’t seem surprised. His eyes flicker between you and Johnny, an unreadable expression passing over his face. You know he’s noticed. They both have.

But then the tension, thick and bruising, is broken by the shuffle of feet behind you as another customer slides into a booth. You feel the burn of their stares fade just as quickly as it came, but the heat in your cheeks doesn’t fade. Still, your hands shake as you back away, your smile a brittle thing you have to patch together before you disappear back into the shadows of the diner, pleading for Tony to hand them the check.

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thebestnova · 3 months ago

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bunny hybrid!yandere x pissed off empress!reader

Imagine a bunny hybrid who's main role in life is to kill for the elites of his burrow. He is set to rule his burrow until it is destabilized, with he and his fellow elites tried for treason.

The poor man, being as beautiful as he was, was spared and gifted to an unprecedentedly young empress.

Everyone knew what he'd done to her, to her family.

"Do you remember me?" she asks as he is presented to her in her throne room.

"Of course," he says, smiling as ruthlessly as he did that day. Though he is bound in both chains and powerful enchantments, he looks strong. "How's your scar?"

"Bold question." You smile back, but you're sure it doesn't reach your eyes. You force yourself to not touch the healed gash on your collarbone. "You'll learn better."

I've become stronger.

But what happens if the poor bunny is not as cold as he seems?

includes; femdom, revenge, oral (fem receiving), degradation and masochism (yan receiving/being), forced marriage, dubcon, hurt little comfort

“I mustn't give in to temptation, Your Highness… To give in to such beastly, masculine instincts…”

You tear the man down to his knees by his hair. "It's 'Your Majesty' now. You made sure of that.

“And I don't care about any of that. You're mine, now. You're in heat, so let loose, according to my command.”

“B-But…” The man began to plead, covering his growing erection with his hands. “It's my first time doing this… I don't want to be like the other dumb bunnies that hop around the moment they're sent off… I'm the next on line…”

This killer? A prude? A VIRGIN? you think. Laughable. He was surely old enough to not speak like a shy sweetie?

“How will they know? Come here.” You shove his worried face into your crotch. “Lick and suck like a good slut.”

“Mmph—”

“This tongue is mine to use. You're just a tongue now, understand? Tonight, you're just a pussy wiper.”

The terrifying man has tears in his crystal clear eyes.

Why is he so complacent? you wonder.

He his tongue begins to search your tight pussy, lapping at his mess every few seconds. He brings both hands to your hips. He begins to run his chin, fucking his tongue into your eager cunt. You hold his head to steady yourself, stepping in his pathetic cock all the while.

“Nng… Slut… Slut!” you scream out, on the verge of crying. You bounce up and down, crushing his cock and violating his virgin mouth. He grips you tighter, tears now streaming down his murderously beautiful face. You want to hit him, but you settle for degrading him like the bitch he was. You call him a slut, whore, monster— You say that he's lower than dirt, lower than nothing.

You want to die on his lips so he could feel what you felt.

“Fuck… Fuck… Nng…!” You suffocate him with your lust, choking him with your hedonistic flood.

So rough! he thinks. This confuses him, since he lived for and with extreme roughness and callousness. How was this different? Was it because it was… sex? Tonight, it seemed, he found himself numb and dazing out.

“You like that, slut? You like that?” you pant, snatching his head away. He is silently weeping, puppy dog eyes both begging for more and begging for a break.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty…”

“For what?”

“A-About your family… I'm truly sorry…”

You fill with pure, unbridled rage. Why would apologize now, of all times?!

What a buzz killer.

“Get me a belt,” you say, stepping away, “one of yours.”

#yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere #yandere community #yandere x reader #yandere smut #assassin yandere #fdom #fxmdom

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maybeimhere · 2 years ago

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I’m alive and I saw Kaveh’s drip marketing

Anyway, I got two different thoughts happening while staring at his suitcase

The first one: He built it out of legos

The second one: man from kshahrewar darshan builds suitcase that can transform into weapon (y’all remember rwby? yeah)

#buzz buzz the bitch speaks #genshin impact #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh genshin

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missmeinyourbones · 1 year ago

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AURORA BOREALIS GREEN

cw: non sorcerer au, college au, enemies to lovers (?) neighbors to lovers, miscommunication trope if you squint (I AM SORRY), reader e to as she/her once, reader wears heels, some light sexual content (dry humping nation rise)

wc: 10k+

There's something wrong with your upstairs neighbors.

You've never met them, not face to face at least, but between the times you've hit your ceiling with the end of your broom and the audacity they have to continue to be as rowdy as they are, something isn't right with them. You're sure of it.

And you're not naive to the fact that your apartment building is filled with young people, either currently in college or just freshly graduated. You're no prude to the dulled sound of late-night party playlists or squeaky bed frames muffled by plaster.

But your neighbors aren't guilty of these typical noise complaints. No, they're borderline much worse.

The majority of their crimes take place in the day, believe it or not, which makes it all the more frustrating when you actually have shit to do. When it's not boyish yells of victory and frustration, it's footsteps that sound like a herd of elephants (how many people can live in an apartment floor plan for two?). They're relentless upstairs neighbors to have, and though you couldn't pick their faces out of a crowd if you tried, you're sure their lack of etiquette spans across other areas of their lives.

The tiny clock at the top of your computer blinks a mocking 11:38 AM as you try to study through the sounds of excited stomping and rowdy gibberish.

You don't know what makes today so different, whether it's the burnt coffee beans you can taste lingering in your usual order from the cafe across the street or the organic chemistry study guide practically laughing at you as you review your hieroglyphic notes for tomorrow's test.

Whatever is in the water has you feeling braver than usual, and instead of reaching for the conveniently placed broom in the corner of your kitchen, you find yourself stomping your way down the hall and up the staircase.

The sixth floor is identical to the fifth — you don't know why it wouldn't be, but you've never put much thought into it — so it's no surprise that your feet find no trouble in naturally bringing you to a door equivalent to yours just a floor below.

Your knuckles wrap against the wood with three unfriendly knocks, and the joyous buzzing from inside the apartment instantly comes to a lull. You think you hear panicked whispers from the other side, almost as if the culprits are debating on answering or not. You take their choice away when you knock three more times.

After a moment, you hear the clicking of the lock and the fiddling of the doorknob. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, put on your best customer service voice, and prepare to calmly tell these entitled frat boys to shut the fuck up when—

You're ironically met with the prettiest green eyes you think you've ever seen.

A tall brunette stands before you, about your age, and wearing a look that's both confused and embarrassed. Your eyes quickly flicker across his face in the span of mere seconds, logical thoughts going out the window and now replaced with amazement at how stupidly attractive he is.

Though you knocked on his door, he speaks first.

"Hi...?" He clears his throat, looking behind you in the hallway, almost as if you have the wrong room.

His confusion annoys you, and you suddenly remember why you're here in the first place.

"Look, I really don't wanna be a bitch," you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "but what could you possibly be doing in this apartment that sounds like an actual full-out brawl on a Wednesday morning?"

Obliviously handsome neighbor's face goes a bit pink and his jaw slacks as he stutters, looking for either a shitty excuse or a polite explanation of the truth.

He opens the door a bit more, gesturing to the living room behind him. You spare a glance to where another guilty suspect stares back at you with big brown eyes and a smirk. There's some video game paused on the screen, ridden with animated blood and a scoped weapon's perspective.

Your attention is brought back to the one holding the door when he mumbles, "I think it's our game."

A bit dumbfounded at his lame answer, you blankly stare at him.

"Your... game?"

Brown Eyes yells from the couch, "Call of Duty!"

As if on instinct, Green Eyes closes the door a bit, shielding you from his roommate and shaking his head in exasperation. He clears his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, are you—?"

You're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you've been staring at how long his fucking eyelashes are. He's anything but sore on the eyes, but again, you try to remind yourself that he and his roommate make your life difficult at least five out of seven days of the week.

"I live below you," you huff behind a swallow, "and you really don't make it easy."

He nods dumbly, finally realizing the connection behind your visit. "Oh, right."

You scoff and nod your head. For someone as pretty as him, he's a bit thick in the head.

Biting your cheek, you begin to walk away from the door without completely ending the conversation. As you're turning to leave, he hears you call out from down the corridor.

"If you could just — not play video games like eleven-year-old boys," your tone is filled with annoyance, "that'd be great."

You don't need to turn around to know that the stranger at the door is apologetic and nodding in compliance. Before he can fully shut the door, you hear a quip from his counterpart on the couch.

"She told you, bro."

As the door shuts, you hear the muffled hiss from the other. "You're the one making noise, dipshi—"

…..

Your threatening conversation must have worked to some degree, because it's been almost two days without any sort of annoyance from your upstairs neighbors. You think you almost take it for granted, the way you can study without headphones and enjoy a movie in the living room rather than in your bed with the speaker on high.

The walk back from your class is usually about twenty minutes, but it's closer to fifteen today as you're quicker when it comes to getting out of the cold.

Your chemistry test went alright — maybe not your best work but okay enough that you passed. And that's all you care about as you make your way back to your apartment, intending to crash in your bed and not move for the next few hours.

The winter air leaves a chill up your spine as you swipe into your building and press the elevator button. Your nose runs a bit from the cold as it sits against your knit scarf. Bag on your arm and half-consumed coffee, you can't wait to enjoy a day or two without thinking about covalent bonds and isomers.

You close your eyes and release a sigh as the elevator door begins to close, but before it gets the chance to do so successfully, quick footsteps and a hand jammed between the closing space prompt the doors to reopen.

Not really paying attention to the stranger joining your 30-second elevator ride, you simply step to the side to make more room for them.

It's not until they make eye contact with you that you realize it's your neighbor, the same one you'd borderline terrorized a few days ago for being irritating.

He's out of breath from catching the lift last minute, lungs still adjusting from the crisp air from outside. His jacket is zipped all the way up to his collar and his hair pokes out in spiky tuffs from beneath his hat.

He mumbles out a weak "sorry" before his eyes find the floor and the rickety door shuts, leaving the two of you alone in the suddenly very small space.

You'd cuss beneath your breath if you weren't close enough for him to hear it.

What's the acceptable thing to do in this scenario? You mentally weigh out your options. Sit in an awkward silence? Introduce yourself as if your encounter never even happened? Address the fact that you banged on his door a few days ago and insulted him as a first impression?

You choose the silence. If anything, you silently pray that behind your winter apparel and the lack of eye contact, he doesn't even recognize you.

But that thought goes to shit when you see that he's already pressed the fifth-floor button for you.

You swear the ride to your floor has never been this slow. Seconds feel like hours as you watch the digital number rise like paint drying on a wall. The elevator almost laughs at you as it stops on the third floor and opens itself to find no one there; you curse whoever decided to press the button before changing their mind and taking the stairs.

After what seems like forever, your floor finally flashes on the pixelated screen, and as you feel the elevator come to a stop—

The doors don't open.

You think it's just your dramatic prolonged sense of time until it's been about ten seconds and still, nothing. Just the two of you in a stopped elevator with doors that won't unlock.

You've never been one to believe in karma, but you can't help but think this is the universe punishing you for standing up for yourself. You are quite literally on your floor, a mere sliding door away from the embarrassing situation you got yourself in, but still, nothing happens.

He presses the button meant to prompt open the doors a few times with slight force.

"It does this, sometimes," he weakly coughs out in an attempt to make conversation. "It's uh—a shitty building."

You try pressing the button for yourself, "It's never done this for me."

Green Eyes sighs, slouching against his side of the wall and letting his head fall to rest on his shoulder, "Consider yourself lucky."

You huff, giving up on the button and turning to face him.

Your eyes didn't deceive you the first time you saw him — he is just as pretty as you'd initially thought. Not a great conversationalist, but nice to look at. He avoids eye contact until you speak up.

"It's happened to you before?" you gesture to the doors that won't open.

He catches your eye before nodding defeatedly, "This is the fourth time."

You can't help but bitterly laugh at the situation you're in.

"Maybe it's just you, then," you joke, looking up at the digital five mocking you in the corner.

Though you don't catch it, his eyes soften a bit as they fall on you. The corner of his mouth slightly quirks up when he chimes, "Could be."

You let yourself count another ten seconds before tossing your hands by your sides in aggravation and sighing, "So, what now? Hit the help button or—"

And like a blessing, or maybe a curse, you can't decide, the elevator chimes, signaling its arrival. The doors open swiftly as if there was nothing wrong with them in the first place, revealing your destination floor to you.

You whip your head to your upstairs neighbor, confused and almost asking for his permission to exit the elevator. You don't know why you do so, and you don't know why you only depart after he nods his head and waves his hand for you to continue.

Next time you leave your apartment, you find yourself taking the stairs to be safe.

…..

Your peaceful living is unsurprisingly short-lived. After a few enjoyable days, you'd given your neighbors too much credit as they now return to their usual noisiness. You find yourself rapping on their door once again.

This time, Brown Eyes answers.

Even before opening his mouth, he's instantly friendlier than his counterpart based on body language alone, completely opening the door all the way wide and leaning against the frame in his palm.

He's taller than you, but not as tall as the former who greeted you last time. With light rose-colored hair, he's all smiles and giggles. You'd think he were high if you could smell anything on him.

Oh, he's also shirtless.

"Hey, it's our friend again," he smiles at you before craning his neck backward, and you can make an educated guess on who exactly he's talking to.

You're quick to steer clear, "We aren't friends."

He laughs at your words, completely unfazed by the unwelcoming attitude. He casually sips on an energy drink that looks borderline lethal when he asks, "Were we being loud? You comin' to yell at us again?"

His lack of care for the situation surprisingly doesn't rub you the wrong way. Inconvenient? Yes, but not necessarily malicious, from what you can tell.

"I wouldn't be here for any other reason."

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "We don't really have inside voices around here."

You can't help but roll your eyes at the childish excuse. "You should find some."

"Will do," he nods like a child being reprimanded in class, "sorry again."

He salutes you with a metal can in his left hand. Before you can turn your back to him and towards the elevator, you hear the same voice call out to you.

"Hey—!"

You stop midstride, slowly turning around to face the door again. He stands in the same position, leaning against the door frame as he points out the obvious.

"We didn't get your name last time."

You blink at him a few times, not caring enough to connect the dots and extend the nicety, but the friendly one persists. He places a palm on his (bare) chest as he gestures to himself, "I'm Itadori."

You nod with raised brows, "And I'm calling our landlord if you piss me off again."

You hear a soft chuckle from the inside of the apartment. The two of you turn at the sound of the noise, where Green Eyes hides his smile behind the strings of his sweatshirt and quickly returns his attention to his phone.

Itadori, apparently, looks back at you and nods to his friend, "That's Fushiguro."

You breathe out your own name and quickly make your way back towards your apartment. On the ride down to your floor, you find yourself repeating the name — Fushiguro. It tastes weird on your lips, and you hate the way you don't hate it.

..…

His name is Megumi.

You learn this when a letter shows up at your door addressed to a Fushiguro Megumi. Mail mix-ups are common in the apartment complex, but you can't help but laugh at the coincidence - his name but your apartment number clearly displayed in black ink.

You examine the piece of paper closely. The cream-colored envelope covered in poorly drawn hearts and tacky puppy stickers placed randomly across its front found itself wedged into your door's mailbox. Flipping it over, the return address is a mere surname of Gojo underlined with a smiley face.

A love letter, you realize. You're not sure why the shift in narrative suddenly fills your stomach with an uneasy weight of disappointment.

You're going out anyways, you tell yourself as you slip on your scarf and shimmy into your shoes. Between stopping at the grocery store for a few small things and dropping off overdue assignments at your professor's office, it's not like you're going out of your way to return the letter to its intended recipient. You're doing the right thing, being a good samaritan, your mind repeats.

The single flight up the stairs is easy enough and a good excuse for exercise. Approaching the door that mimics your own floor below, the same one you've already visited two times too many, you feel weirdly nervous. Just slide it beneath his door and call it a day.

As you bend to slip the paper beneath the door, it swings open.

You quickly stand up straight and back away from the opening, as the shadow in your peripheral startles from your presence and does the same.

"Shit, sorry—"

Looking up, you lock eyes with the one and only whose letter lies in your hand. Fuck.

He hesitates a bit when he realizes it's you, doing a double take and immediately assuming he's in trouble again.

"We—" Megumi, you now know him to be, turns his back to you, quickly surveying his empty apartment to show you, "aren't playing? Yuuji's not even home, so—”

You're not sure why you're the slightest bit hurt by his more than reasonable accusation. The only two times you've been at his door were to reprimand him, so of course he's not wrong to assume this time was no different. Still, it has you feeling guilty as you dryly swallow and raise your arm.

"I was sticking this under your door," you sigh, handing him the ridiculous-looking envelope. "Got sent to my place accidentally."

His eyes flicker to your extended hand, and when he sees the writing on the envelope between your fingers, his body instantly goes hot with embarrassment.

"Of course it did," he groans beneath his breath, almost annoyed.

A bit abruptly, he grabs the letter from you and places his hand behind his back, telling himself that if it's out of sight, you'll forget it ever happened entirely.

His uneasiness and slight frustration have you taking a small step back as he snatches the envelope. He senses your hesitation and immediately mourns how he acted out of instinct, sighing and slowly moving the letter from behind him to rest by his side.

He softens and clears his scratchy throat, something you've come to notice he does a lot. "Thanks."

Feeling a bit brave, you raise your eyebrows, amused at his odd behavior. Your words are taunting yet friendly when you nod to the note at his arm.

"You should probably tell your girlfriend that you're in #603, not #503."

Megumi's face is often stoic and downturned, aside from a slight pull of a smile that can rarely be seen on occasion. But at these words, you watch in regret as Megumi's expression mimics one of disgust mixed with pure mortification.

"Oh, this—" his eyes fall to the envelope he thinks might be the cause of his death, "this isn't from a girlfriend. It's actually a lot worse than that."

"Worse?" you push.

"It's... from a family friend," he weakly reveals. "Kinda like a dad, I guess."

You find yourself smiling at the meek yet sweet confession, nodding along and biting back a good-hearted laugh at his timidness.

"Right, I just assumed with the hearts and the cute stickers that—" you trail off, gesturing to the letter that clearly presents itself as something else.

He laughs a bit humorlessly and itches the back of his neck shyly.

"That would make a lot more sense and be a lot less humiliating, yeah."

You take a moment to take in his shyness. He's harmless, you decide at that very moment. You make a mental note to remind yourself to weigh the sides of the subject at hand.

Cons: awkward, obvlvious, bad neighbor, a tad unfriendly at times

Pros: annoyingly attractive, nice enough in actual conversation, respectful in passing, girlfriend-less

You shake those points from your head, taking a breath and slowly moving towards the elevator. "It could've been worse. The stickers could've been puppies and kittens," you tease.

You expect that to be all, because that's all it should be, right? An awkward yet friendly coincidence between two strangers who got off on the wrong foot. You're locked in on entering the elevator when you hear his voice from behind you.

"Sorry—" he shortly blurts out.

You turn, expecting him to elaborate on the outburst. The look on his face almost reads as if he wasn't planning to until seeing your reaction, where he explains, "That we're loud sometimes. I really do try to tell Yuuji to shut up, but he's just... a lot."

You don't know why your heart swells at the apology.

"It's fine," you nod softly. Turning your back, you call out to him as you enter the elevator. "You've actually been pretty tolerable this week, but don't let that go to your head."

As the elevator closes, you see Megumi smile before returning inside and closing his door. This time, you don't stop the thoughts that flow through your head.

Pro: cute

.….

You suppose it was only a matter of time before the tables you'd set managed to turn on you, but you just didn't expect it so soon. Because the next time you run into your neighbors, it's them knocking on your door for a change.

The sharp winter wind shakes the sides of your building with rage — the kind that results in creaky panels and systems outages in certain sectors of your building.

After waking to take a shower early this morning and being greeted with piercing cold water that refused to warm up, no matter how long you ran the faucet, you knew today would be a long one.

Clad in layers of fuzzy socks and bulky hoodies, you rise from the couch to answer the banging outside. After opening the door to see who's on the other side, it takes less than a second for the visitor to make himself at home.

"You out of hot water, too?" Yuuji casually brushes past you, walking into your home and stopping in the center of the living room. He looks around the space in awe — as if his own place just a singular level above doesn't mimic the exact same floor plan.

Still in the hallway but keeping an eye on his friend's questionable behavior, Megumi waits in the hallway. He's on the phone with someone, his cell wedged between his elbow and ear. When he begins asking about the building's backup generator, you mentally thank him for being the only proactive one here.

You sigh and turn to Yuuji, who's admiring your wall art and the fact that you have an actual television stand, "I'm out of heat in general."

"Damn," he blurts out without a thought, "that sucks."

You overhear Megumi wrapping up his conversation in the background when your lips are pulled downward in confusion.

"Are you guys not?"

"Oh no, we are," Yuuji continues admiring your apartment with a child-like curiosity, "but we have a space heater that's doing the job for now. How are you so good at decorating?"

You ignore his question, turning to Megumi who now stands on the threshold of your doorway. He makes a face, one of tight lips and sympathy, almost as if he's wordlessly apologizing for both the unfortunate scenario and his roommate's lack of social etiquette.

You further wrap yourself in your own little warmth, crossing your arms inwards. "That's actually really smart of you guys," you manage to croak out.

"You can come up and chill if you want," Yuuji mindlessly offers, eyes scanning over the magnets on your fridge. He can't stop himself from fiddling with a cherry-shaped one that holds up a baby picture of you from kindergarten.

The shock on your face must be obvious because you swear you hear Megumi swallow a chuckle at your reaction.

"You came down here… to ask me to chill?" Your voice octaves up towards the end, almost as if repeating the offer will reveal itself to be a track or joke.

While Yuuji nods eagerly, you can hear Megumi muttering from behind the neckline of his sweatshirt.

"Sue us for extending a neighborly olive branch."

As Yuuji continues to outwardly snoop around your kitchen, his eyes land on your oven-top clock and he whines.

"I actually have class in twenty and need to catch the shuttle to campus, but you're welcome to not freeze to death with Fushiguro, if you want."

You check your phone, confirming the time when you question, "Didn't the last shuttle of the hour leave already?"

You watch the gears turn in Itadori's mind for a second before he smacks a palm to his head, quickly brushing past you and out the door.

"Fuck me, see you guys later then—" he hurries, the only sound following him being the swishing of his winter coat and clunky booted footsteps jostling down the stairs.

And with Megumi still standing in your doorway and the sound of the main staircase gate slamming behind Yuuji's path, you could hear a pin drop between the two of you if it weren't for the howling wind outside (which you find yourself suddenly grateful for rather than loathing it).

Megumi shifts his weight on the balls of his feet as he stands. He clears his throat in a way he hopes is subtle.

"You can still come up," he gestures to the hallway with a nod of his head, before cautiously adding, "if you want."

Instinctively, you feel your body curl further in on itself. Megumi must notice it too, as his eyes quickly flicker to your raw hands tucked beneath your arms.

"It's not that bad in here," you weakly dismiss.

He deadpans, "I can almost see your breath."

A sigh leaves your chilled body and you look up at Megumi. Now it's your turn to silently communicate with him — eyebrows raising and wavering between your options, you chew on your cheek in thought.

"You don't have to," he softly adds, hands burrowing themselves in the pocket of his hoodie. "Just wanted to see if you needed anything, I guess."

"What did the landlord say?" your words are muffled from your teeth in your cheek.

Megumi's eyes light up a bit before they find his scuffed Converse again.

"He's sending his guys over, but it's gonna take an hour, at least."

After another minute that feels like twenty, you softly speak up.

"…Do you really have a space heater?"

As he fights off a smile, Megumi gently nods.

.….

You'll admit, the apartment looks better than you'd imagined. Not that your standards weren't too high to begin with, but you're pleasantly surprised.

Megumi unlocks the front door, gesturing for you to enter as he slowly closes it behind him, shivering a bit from the draft weaving through the hallway.

It's clean, relatively. The design of the rooms and open areas are identical to your layout below, but between the decor (or lack thereof) and the overhanging presence of the space, it feels so different.

Their television, the one you know to be responsible for their rowdiness, balances on what looks to be a bedside table. Far too small for the proportions of the TV but just enough to carry the width of the screen's base, it looks silly but does the job.

"You can just…" Megumi waves his hand to the living room, awkwardly trailing off as he insists. "Sit. Wherever you want."

Your seating choices include a felt futon in scrappy condition, two lopsided beanbags, and a busted recliner. You take your chances with the futon.

Surveying the apartment, it's not terrible — truthfully, you'd been expecting worse from college guys. You give them props; aside from a few half-drank plastic water bottles and withering plants on their window sill, there's nothing that outwardly goes against any health violations or suitable living standards. No empty beer cans or pizza boxes, no trashy flags or posters hung on the walls. It's decent.

And the space heater working overtime in the corner outlet is a major plus. Feeling the angle of its warmth blasting on your legs, you exhale at the heat and rub your fuzzy slippers together on instinct.

"Do you want anything?" Megumi stands a few feet away, nervous for someone in the comfort of his own home, "Water or a drink, or something?"

It's sweet how respectful he's being — you think back to whoever sent him that letter, imagining they raised him right.

You shake your head curtly, "I don't take drinks from strange men."

His face drops instantly.

"Oh—right," he swallows harshly, fumbling with his sparse words. "I didn't mean it like that or anything, but that makes sense. I just meant—”

The stoic expression you were attempting to upkeep fails and you can't fight off the smile that pulls at your cheeks. Exhaling a laugh and looking over at him, you apologize, "I'm just kidding, Megumi."

He feels his stomach instantly solidify like cement at your words — Megumi. He doesn't recall you ever referring to him by any name, let alone his first. He feels a wandering heat itching up his neck when he coughs up a chuckle.

He shakes his head, sitting on the opposite end of the futon and leaving the middle cushion between the two of you unoccupied.

"Fuck off," he scratches his jaw to busy his shaky hands. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of a few silver rings wrapping around his knuckles.

As the warmth of the space heater (solely the space heater, you remind yourself) gradually dissolves the chill that's been stuck up your spine for the last few hours, you slightly settle further into your seat.

"So this is the scene of the crime, huh?" you motion to the gaming console propped up on the floor beside the makeshift television stand.

Megumi amuses an exhale through his nose and nods along, "Yeah. I mean, you've kinda seen it from the hallway before."

"Yeah, but this is the real thing, first-person point of view. It's just missing me downstairs hitting the ceiling with my broom twenty times."

The next few minutes are stolen by a whole lot of small talk that holds no weight. Beginning to panic at how the hell you're gonna make it through this entire hour with little to talk about, your eyes fall on the television once more.

"So," you curl into the futon. "Show me something worth screaming over."

Without warning, Megumi chokes on his own saliva as he swallows.

"Huh?"

"A game," you quickly correct, not realizing how your words sounded and nodding to the television before you. "I meant, show me a game that justifies how loud you two get."

The game is fine, nothing revolutionary but admit that you could see how it could be entertaining for some. A standard battle royal concept, Megumi hands you his second controller and walks you through the instructions on how to play.

You mimic the way his fingers hold the controller, how they flex and bend to hit certain buttons for special uses. Throughout the tutorial of trial and error, the two of you naturally close the gap of the middle cushion, now much closer as you copy his movements and use his hands for reference. He even goes as far as reaching over to point out certain buttons to you, skimming your fingers hesitantly as he pulls away.

It's safe to say you don't win, don't even come close, but he's a good sport all the same. He laughs when you're hit by enemies and revives you with little to no mocking. He whispers an encouraging "there you go" whenever you manage to land a hit on someone, followed by an "I got you" when he's covering for your character. It's fun — you freeze a bit when you realize that you like spending time with him, even doing the very thing that caused this entire debacle in the first place.

You don't realize how much time has passed until Megumi's phone vibrates from the coffee table. His eyes quickly glance over the unsaved number, almost as if recognizes the contact and is debating on answering or not.

Your eyes narrow teasingly when you taunt, "You gonna take that?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Megumi nods, swipes his screen, and holds his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

The conversation is short, maybe thirty seconds in total. Though you can't make out any specific words, you can hear the rumbling of another deep voice on the other end of the call. Megumi listens half-heartedly, nodding along and chiming in here and there to acknowledge the caller.

"Hey, yeah. That was me. Right, okay. Okay, nice. Thanks, appreciate it."

The call ends and Megumi puts his phone down on the coffee table once more. You swear you can hear a small sense of disappointment in his voice when he breathes.

"That was the maintenance guy," he breathes softly. "Heat's back on."

You feel your own body getting sour with misfortune. Why are you so bitter about the thought of going back downstairs to your own apartment?

Nodding at his words, you slowly stand and do your best to sound relieved. "Thank god," you joke, "I was beginning to think I might have to sleep on this gross futon."

Megumi sneers, rolling his eyes and rising to walk you to the door. Before you step into the hallway, you turn to face him.

"Thanks," your tone is spineless, one he's unable to recognize from you before you elaborate, "for letting me leech off of your heat."

"No problem," he shoots you a genuine look. "Consider it reparations for all of the times we've annoyed you."

"All of the times?" you shoot him a harmless glare.

Unlike most who cower and scowl at your sarcastic quips, Megumi seems to bloom beneath your daggered attempts at pushing him away.

"Fine," he exaggerates a groan, "maybe not all. But it's a start, right?"

A start. The insinuation tickles all air out of your lungs like a feather. Though you pretend to be annoyed and kiss your teeth at his words, you nod all the same.

Leaving his door, Megumi seems lighter than he did when you first entered.

"Sorry you just kinda watched me play video games for almost two hours," he calls out to you as you depart, hands returning to his pockets.

"Don't be," you honestly tell him as your head cranes back to look at him. "It was nice to be up here for reasons other than wanting to strangle you."

.….

A day and a half later when the universe has realigned itself and it's you knocking on their door again, they half expect you to be followed by your stuffy landlord holding an eviction notice.

Much to their surprise, you're alone, rather skittish — and holding a tupperware container of… cookies?

It's Megumi who opens the door initially, but Yuuji is quick to squeeze his way into the opening at the sight of your familiar face and mysterious delivery in hand.

"Ooooooh, what are these?" he inquires, unashamed as he pokes his nose into your space in an attempt to get a better look at the baked goods.

Pulling a bit away from his antics, you swallow back any potential wisecracks.

"Thank you for being neighborly and not letting me die of hypothermia cookies," you keep your voice neutral.

"Are they poisoned?" Megumi pipes in.

You shoot him a scowl, one he's learned is innocent enough, and his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Shit, can't remember if I added vanilla or vitriol?" your head cocks to the side in faux thought.

Your eyes flicker to him as he chews on his cheek in a half-assed attempt to cover up his entertainment at your quickness.

Yuuji, focused on nothing but having a minimum of five cookies for good measure, snatches the container from your hands and carries it to the kitchen counter.

He's already opening the dish and helping himself as he chews, "I don't even know what that is, so I'm gonna take my chances."

Megumi gives a quick thank you for the cookies, and Yuuji chimes in behind a satiated mouth and crumby lips. You brush off their graces, reminding them it's just you returning the favor for the heating situation.

Just as you're about to see yourself out of their entryway, you hear an authentic offer from the kitchen.

"Hey," Yuuji wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and something about it feels oddly youthful to you, "wanna come over this weekend?"

You look at the two of them for a moment, waiting to see if there's a punchline to come, before carefully treading, "Why?"

"We're havin' some friends over," Yuuji reveals casually before going to take another large bite, "and I guess you're funny enough to hang out with us."

The hesitation in your response must be more apparent than you think because he's quick to chuckle and elaborate on the offer.

"It's not an orgy," he teases at your stiffness before grabbing at another cookie and shrugging. "We get take out, chill, drink a little, kick ass in Mario Kart."

You nod as you listen to his words. He's kind, they both are, and you know the offer to be a genuine one. Still, the situation makes your stomach ache with uncertainty at the thought of mingling with strangers for the sake of your mere — acquaintances? Neighbors? Friends?

"As fun as that sounds," you breathe, clearly trying but failing to convince them of your apologetic tone, "I don't really wanna intrude on you and your friends.

"It's not intruding if you're invited," Megumi interjects for the first time in the conversation.

Looking at where he stands against the counter, his eyes are on you. They're careful, but hopeful in a gentle kind of way. He wants you to say yes — but he'd rather swallow a knife than his own pride and admit it himself.

Your words are unconvincing when you sigh, "Not really in the hangout mood. Next time, okay?"

The two men deflate a bit, one more dramatic and obvious than the other, but they nod at your rejection. Wiping his hands off on his shorts, Yuuji walks you to the door, thanking you again for the sweets and joking about you getting home safe on your long journey back downstairs.

You can't help but giggle at his theatrics, insisting that, "If you need me this weekend, I'll be rotting away on my couch with a bottle of wine and a week's worth of Love Island to catch up on."

Yuuji laughs wholeheartedly, "Your loss, see ya."

Megumi weakly waves as his best friend swings the door shut. Once closed, Yuuji turns to him with a cheeky smile he knows can mean nothing good.

Megumi grimaces at his enthusiasm, "What?"

Yuuji nods to the door, a toothy grin spreading across his face. "Think I'm gonna ask her out."

Megumi's quick to react poorly.

"What?" he borderline knocks over the water bottle next to him on the counter. He catches it, embarrassed by his obvious care for the situation as he tries to cover it up with a nonchalant scoff, "Why?"

Yuuji stares at him for a minute in disbelief before stating what he believes to be the obvious.

"'Cause she's hot and yells at us all the time?"

Megumi scoffs in distaste again. He fiddles with the rings on his right hand, pretending to be careless about a situation he's anything but careful about.

Sensing his roommate's off response, Itadori's quick to add. "Unless you wanna call dibs before I do?"

"Dibs?" Megumi groans.

"Yeah, like claiming—"

"I know what dibs means," he interrupts before Yuuji can dig his own grave any further. He slumps into the palm of his hand as his elbow rests atop the kitchen counter, "I just think that's shitty."

Yuuji, knowing Megumi well enough to sense that he's hit a sour spot, nods and backs off. He joins him at the counter again, oblivious as he grabs another cookie to chomp on. With cautious eyes and a mouth filled with chocolate, he speaks up.

"…So you don't wanna call dibs?"

.….

It's Saturday, almost Sunday, according to the cat clock on your wall.

You'd kept your word. Beneath a few blankets and practically one with your couch cushions, you're spending your weekend doing exactly what you'd anticipated.

The television continues to play the stream of episodes you're catching up on. With your second glass of red in hand, you tune in and out of the segments when the good parts catch your attention. It feels good to relax, to do nothing and to be nothing behind tipsy and fatigued eyes.

A sudden knock on your door puts a minor wedge in your plans. Sitting up with a groan, you whimper beneath your breath but move to answer it regardless.

Maybe you forgot to tip your delivery driver when he dropped off your takeout a few hours ago and he's back for revenge. Maybe it's your drunk friends, showing up to ruin your night and attempting to persuade you to join them on their foolish escapades. Maybe it's someone with the wrong address.

Locking eyes with the visitor at your door, it's Megumi. Maybe you're drunker than you thought.

His delicate eyes match yours when he scarcely smiles, "Hi."

Your eyes go to the items in his hands — a few beer bottles, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a deck of cards.

Giggling to yourself, you stare at him, "I think you got off a floor too early."

Megumi laughs, and when you're able to get a good look at him, you can tell he's a bit tipsy, too. His shoulders aren't as tense as they usually are, he's still broad, but a lot looser now. His eyes are glossed over with a haze you're sure yours mimic. He scratches his nose awkwardly before opening his mouth.

"I—" he cuts himself off, eyes darting to the items in his arms before returning to you, "wanted to see you."

"Me?" you're unable to stop yourself from nearly gawking.

He laughs again, not obnoxiously but easy and natural. "Yes, you. Does someone else live here?"

"Don't you have plans with your friends?" you question, still not letting him inside.

"They're upstairs," he nods, "and no, I'm not here to force you to come up."

At his words, he can see your visible relief. Opening the door fully and letting him come inside, you relish in reassurance, "Good, I really didn't wanna be fake nice right now."

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he sets his belongings on your coffee table. "Fake nice?" he prompts.

"I mean, not that it's fake, it's just like—customer servicey. Y'know? Being kind to people in a way that's not ingenuine but—"

"Exhausting?" he finishes for you, and he's weirdly more talkative with a bit of alcohol in his veins. "Yeah, I feel that."

You sprawl onto your couch and he takes the seat next to you but refrains from leaning back as far. He watches you graze on your glass of wine, your legs crossed childishly as you gaze up at him.

"Are you like that with me?" he puts on a brave face. "Fake nice?"

He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding when you shake your head. After a hearty sip from your drink, you talk dramatically with your hands.

"Am I even real nice to you? I've kinda been a bitch since the day I banged on your door."

Megumi shakes his head as he laughs, which in return allows you to do the same. He relaxes a bit further into the warmth of your cushions, lolling his head to look at you as he opens himself a beer.

"I don't think so," he shrugs. "You're not wrong for complaining about us being understandably annoying."

Things lighten up as time passes. The night gets a bit blurry but it's fun, carefree. The two of you sit on your tiny couch, passing a bag of pretzels back and forth, and playing stupid card games that bring out your competitive sides and don't have real rules.

Minutes bleed into hours and you're not sure what time it is when it's late enough for Megumi to start yawning. Enjoying a comfortable silence between the two of you, his voice is temperate when he asks.

"Why didn't you want to hang out with us?"

He almost seems mournful, and a part of you feels guilty as his eyes blink heavily down on you. You exhale, readjusting your legs and throwing your head back.

"Seemed like a friend group thing," is what eventually crawls up from your throat. "Felt weird being the only one who didn't know everyone, y'know?"

He considers before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. But I would've been with you."

His stare feels sharp, like he can see right through your facade and into parts of you you've buried deep a long time ago. You hate it and love it, want to drown yourself in it and voluntarily inhale until your own demise.

Unable to hold his stare, you look into your almost empty glass, swishing around the bleeding wine and ice that remains at the bottom.

"Well, you're here with me now, anyway."

Megumi continues to admire you without words. Pointing an accusatory finger back at him, you nudge his leg with your foot. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"Cause you didn't show up," he doesn't hesitate to respond. Almost as if he regrets his eagerness but still stands by the sentiment, he clears his throat before adding, "Was weirdly hoping you would, but—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off with a lame shrug.

His eyes look greener when they're a bit more watery. Fuck it.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time to assess his reactions, you move to crawl into his lap. You sense a difference in his breathing pattern, but other than that, he makes no move to pull away from you. He lets you carefully straddle his legs before getting comfortable atop him, when he places his hands on the plush between your hips and thighs.

Leaning in, giving him any chance to reject you, stop you, hate you, you continue to keep his eye as your lips just barely brush against his. He does the same, refusing to look away from you as if he'll never get this opportunity again. As if he wants to take a picture and relish it forever.

"Stop me," you bite through a hushed whisper, daring him to put an end to this before it begins.

His breath is lulled against your own when he whispers, "No."

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. It starts simple, like you're learning all about one another's creases and folds. Between shaky inhales and nervous hands, you lean into one another's touch, savoring every taste and sound you can manage.

Megumi feels brave, and on one particular gasp from you, he prudently skims his tongue across your lower lip before slipping it inside. Rubbing against your own with a fervent need, you open your jaw further for him to have whatever he wants. Between your increased breathing, soft moans, and greedy hands, the two of you slowly become messy and desperate for one another.

Hips wantonly moving against his thighs, he flexes instinctually as you begin to grind yourself down on him. He meets your movements, half hard as he presses into you, both of you whimpering at the new-found friction. The two of you reduce to whiney teenagers, practically swallowing one another whole and dry-humping fully clothed before you open your eyes to look at him.

Megumi, eyes shut and whimpering into your neck, is too good for this — deserves more than this. He's kind, respectful, funny (though you'd never tell him that to his face), and you're both drunk. It feels so fucking good, but it isn't right. It's not supposed to happen like this.

Slowing your movements, you pull back to see his face. Dazed, he opens his pretty green eyes to look up at you like you hold the stars and sun in your hands.

"We shouldn't," you pant, brushing your bangs back and catching your breath. "We should stop."

Megumi, confused and hurt, but instantly moving you off of his lap with a gentle hold, nods in agreement. "Right, right, we're — we're drunk," he whispers, almost ashamed of everything that just happened.

Before you can say anything, he's readjusting himself and standing up. A bit more sober than he was a few minutes ago, he's straightening himself out and making his way to your door.

"Sorry—" he keeps repeating himself, "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He's gone before you can reassure him that there's nothing to apologize for.

.....

You don't hear from him the next morning — or afternoon.

When night falls, you've given up that there's any hope of saving whatever it was the two of you had going.

Wanting to drown yourself in your own sorrows, you stare at the text from your friend before you and weigh your options.

Stay in, cry yourself to a babbling mess, and finish your show

Answer their text and agree to go to this party with them

Thinking back to last night and how badly you fucked that one up, you decide the first choice is off-limits. Hoping you don't regret your decision, it's not long before you're looking decent enough to lock your door behind you and start the commute to your friends.

The walk isn't terrible, being ten minutes to your friend's place and an additional fifteen to whoever's party you're attending. On the west side of campus, you can hear the muffled music and drunken squeals of the attendees from down the street.

The party itself is fine, nothing special. The lime seltzer in your hand is still half full when you stray away from your friends in search of the bathroom.

There's a line formed down the hallway of drunk girls laughing, couples swallowing one another's faces, and a single guy slumped against the wall in his own world. Taking a second glance at the end of the line, you recognize the lone drunk as Yuuji.

Gently tapping his shoulder, his eyes blink open and he's nearly crushing you to death when wrapping his arms around you in excitement. He lets his animation get the best of him, lifting you in the air and spinning you once before he realizes he can't handle another. Leaning on the wall to steady both you and him, you're smiling at his sloppy yet endearing enthusiasm.

"What are you doing here!?" he beams, swaying back and forth and reeking of cheap booze.

"My friends dragged me out of the house," you tease before noticing truly how incoherent he is. Your nose crinkles with worry, "You fucked up?"

He can barely stand up straight, eyes unable to focus in one spot for too long as he blearily looks at you before skimming his body against the wall again. He's talking in slow gibberish, something about having one too many and wanting to talk to this pretty girl from his linguistics lecture before she leaves.

"Hey," you gently grab his jaw to steady his gaze. "Did you come here alone?"

Yuuji doesn't answer, or rather he does but it's nonsensical and impossible to go off of. You sigh, quickly scanning the suddenly overwhelming crowd around you before grabbing his arm and speaking kindly, yet reflective of a mother.

"Let me take you back to our building, okay?" you prompt him to stand up straight and follow your lead. "I'm going back anyways, I'll walk with you."

Yuuji's eyes light up with excitement at the thought of a journey with his neighbor friend, and it's not long before he's dragging his feet over one another and using your hand as a guide to the door.

On your walk home, you ache for the comfort of your warm bed, the feeling of taking these god-forsaken heels off, and Megumi's forgiveness. You wonder if you'll see him when dropping off Yuuji at his door — you pathetically hope so.

However, Yuuji didn't show up to this party alone.

Megumi, who had been grabbing him a drink and caught a glimpse of you two, saw the entire thing without context — Yuuji's hands around your waist, you caressing his jaw, the two of you leaving abruptly together.

He downs both his and Yuuji's drinks with ease.

..…

Megumi wasn't home.

Disappointed but relieved to see Yuuji safe in the comfort of his apartment, you help him collapse on his couch.

Turning him on his side and making him drink at least two cups of water before throwing a blanket over him and leaving a note, you close the door behind you with a heavy heart.

A few minutes later, you're a bit more at ease. Feet now ridden of silly high heels and skin against the soft cotton of your bed, you find yourself flooded with thoughts of Megumi.

You wake up to a constant thud on your front door. Picking up your phone, it's almost two in the morning and you're not even sure you're not dreaming when you're feet carry you to the blistering noise of a fist on your door.

Swinging it open with half-closed eyes, you're more than prepared to fight a murder charge to get whoever the hell this is to leave you alone. But before you can curse them with everything in you, you realize it's Megumi.

"Hi," he whispers. It's a start contrast from the violent banging on your door he was responsible for two seconds ago, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

"Hi," you respond, suddenly more than awake and just as breathless. "You okay?"

"Are you sleeping with Yuuji?"

Your heart skips exactly two beats before you can accurately comprehend his question. It's then when you notice that he's drunk, disgustingly so. You're not sure how it wasn't the first thing you noticed - but looking at his green eyes again, you give yourself some grace.

"… What?" is all you can pathetically muster.

"Itadori," he slurs. His face is pale with hurt and the collar of his shirt is all wrinkled.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Yeah, I know who Yuuji is, but why the hell are you asking me that?"

"Because you shouldn't be," he declares through a heavy tongue and spinning head. You think you hear his voice crack with emotion when he continues, "I don't want you to sleep with him."

You're sure you're still dreaming as you take in his words. Since the moment you knocked on the door one floor above you, sleeping with Yuuji has never crossed your mind. You've been far too busy focusing on thinking about the man in front of you, who's wasted beyond belief and accusing you of something that not only doesn't make sense but hurts a bit.

He fumbles on his words, swallowing dryly and spiraling.

"You shouldn't sleep with him just because he walks around shirtless and invites you to hang out with us."

Your eyebrows pull downwards with what Megumi knows is hurt. He can't stop himself from talking or spewing nonsensical things just because he can.

Your voice is shaky when you plea, "Megumi, what?"

"I mean—he's my best friend, he's great," he throws his hands up to surrender the truth. "But we played video games and—and we kissed. And you're always looking at me with those eyes and—"

"Megumi," your voice comes tired now, cold. "You're drunk."

"You left with him. And you were whispering in his ear and touching his arm." He frowns, feeling sick just thinking about it again. He shakes the nightmare from his head when repeating his prior question.

"Are you sleeping with him?" he asks again, more accusatory this time around.

He watches your eyes fill with water, but it's not long-lived before you're blinking away any sign of weakness and cementing your walls up again.

"If you didn't notice," you spit with venom, "your friend is drunk off of his ass. I walked him home since he could barely stand on his own."

As if you're speaking another language, Megumi dumbly gapes at your confession.

"You—what?"

You press with ice in your words, "Walked him home. He's passed out on your couch right now."

"Oh." Megumi hadn't returned to his apartment before coming to yours. He'd walked home from the shitty party with one destination in mind, immediately talking the elevator to the fifth floor and finding your familiar floor.

He feels stupid, nauseous with guilt, and god, does his head hurt. His heart hurts too when you scoff and cross your arms in defense.

"Wanna go back to the part where you were practically calling me a slut?"

He cringes, "No, no god no, that's not what I was trying to—"

You don't give him the luxury of explaining himself. Turning your back and slamming the door, you take away his chance of redemption.

You sound unrecognizable when you tell him, "Go to fucking bed, Fushiguro."

.….

The birds outside of your window remind you that it's Sunday, and the open book on your desk reminds you that not only do you have class tomorrow, but you have an assignment due before midnight.

Memories of last night's conversation — if you could even call it that — with Megumi make you feel queazy. Nothing happened in the way you'd wanted. It all just spiraled out of control, like water slipping through a cracked ceiling, you'd just watched it leak without remorse.

The continued chirping outside reminds you that it's quiet, something you should use to your advantage. A light in this mess of a pathetic story.

You'll study, you decide. You'll grab a quick coffee from the cafe across the street and get some actual work done. Something you should've done a long time ago, something you’d ignored that ended up with this this heartbreak.

Not even ten minutes later, you're decent enough to slide your shoes on and grab your house keys. Opening the door into the hallway, you're met with familiar eyes.

Megumi looks disheveled, sitting with his knees up against the wall of your hallway. At your abrupt opening of the front door, he's quick to stand up and dust his pants off from the grime of the hallway carpet. You notice he has a paper bouquet of pinks and blues in his hand and an exhausted frown on his face.

When he looks at you, he can almost feel the air leaving your lungs as your stomach drops.

The first words you say to him are softer than he expects, than he thinks he deserves, but still carried by a look of disapproval.

"Were you here all night?" your lip turns with disgust.

"No—" he spews too quickly. Seeing your expression that clearly reads disbelief, he slows himself down. Taking a deep breath, he repeats himself with a bit more certainty. "No, I've been here since like, seven maybe?"

"Why?"

His hand trembles in a way he hopes you have the respect to ignore as he moves to give you the bouquet. "Because I'm sorry," his voice is steady, like he's been practicing in the mirror.

Choosing to make him work for it, your eyes flicker to the flowers unimpressed before finding his face again.

"For?" you cruelly push him further.

But Megumi's determined to meet your forces just as equally. His voice gains confidence as he speaks clearly, "For panicking and assuming the worst last night. I was drunk, but that's not an excuse. It was a douchebag thing to do."

Admiring how your face softens at his apology but still carries creased lines of worry, Megumi half expects your response.

"And?"

This is the part he's a bit unprepared for.

"And for leaving that night," his volume dips with the confession, eyes wanting to find comfort in the floor so badly but refusing to leave your own as he tries and tries and tries to fix this, "I..."

His lips move before he can think twice about his words, "I thought it was what you wanted."

His confession cracks something inside of you, like nails digging crescents into raw skin. Slowly, you gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates but follows when you move towards the couch, the same couch you'd straddled him on two nights prior. It looks different in the daylight.

Megumi's careful with each step, as if he's walking on eggshells, when he slowly sits beside you on the couch. Placing the bouquet on your table, he moves as if you're a predator, as if he'll make one wrong move and you'll snap, lurching at him and sinking your talons into his neck. You hate how it makes you feel.

Your words surprise the both of you when they eventually come. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I wanted you to stay I just—felt bad."

Felt bad? Megumi's mind goes numb at the realization. Felt bad for him? Like when you do a good deed to cancel out a bad one? Did you kiss him that night because you pitied him?

Before his mind runs itself further into the worst-case scenario, he's brought back to reality as you continue.

"We were drunk, and I didn't want that to be how it happened y'know?"

He starts at you blankly, "It?" He lamely asks.

This time, it's your voice that weakens with shame. He watches you fiddle with your fingers, the same ones he remembers feeling in his hair and on his skin. The ones he wants to feel again.

"Felt like I was coming onto you, and you deserved better than that," you eventually reveal softly, correcting yourself with certainty. "Deserve better than that."

And he feels stupid. God, does Megumi feel stupid. All this time, he'd been thinking you regretted the why of the situation, kissing him like you did. He'd never stopped to think about the fact of how you did it. Never thought you'd be so inclined to consider his wishes.

You think he regrets it, and that is the last thing he wants you to believe.

Taking a risk, Megumi lays a gentle palm on your thigh. He does so slowly, giving you a chance to revolt and bite his hand clean off the bone. You don't so he relaxes his hand.

It's not sexual, not desperate and needy like how it was the other night. It's calm. comforting. Another way for him to say I'm still here, aren't I?

"I'm not great with words," he starts, "but I was very much into it. I need you to know that. You didn't—do anything I didn't want."

Softly and ignoring the criticism from the voice in your head for once, you nod.

You recognize the familiar pull of his lips when he softly grins. "Think it's pretty obvious now, but in case it's not," he leans into this whole communicating thing, "I really like being around you."

He thinks his heart grows a size when you weakly smile back at him, "You like being around me?"

He shrugs, laughing at your sarcasm. "Around you, with you. I guess I just like you, really."

You raise your eyebrows, challenging his statement, "Are you still drunk?"

"Fuck no."

You hum shortly. "Hungover?"

"Disgustingly so," he grimaces at the reminder of how nauseous he is.

"Thinking clearly?"

"Never really around you, but clear as I can be."

It's soft and sweet, and this is how you wanted it to be. Naturally, as if you're both magnets being pulled to one another, Megumi is carefully guiding you into his lap as you're naturally making yourself at home in his hold.

The position almost exactly mimics the one you'd found yourself in on Friday night, but this time, it's different. It feels different — golden instead of red and light with a newfound meaning.

With gentle eyes and slight nods from each of you, you kiss once more. His mouth moves the same, eager yet graceful as he leans into you. No wandering hands or drunken hiccups, you feel one another smile into the kiss until it is all giggles and teeth.

"Y'know, if you wanted to ask me out," you pull away from him, accusatory with an underlying teasing, "you should've just asked like a normal person instead of accusing me of sleeping with your friend."

Megumi groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in your neck. You feel the heat of his cheeks when he sighs.

"Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment."

Kisses are stolen and silence is shared until he yawns you remember how awful he must still feel from drinking so much. Crawling off of his lap, you ignore the butterflies in your stomach whines he whines at the loss of your weight.

"Want anything?" you call out as you walk towards the kitchenette. "I have Advil and a bagel with your name on it."

Megumi hums at the thought, not confirming or denying the offer, as his eyes remain locked in on you in a blissful comfort.

Your voice becomes more distant as you turn the corner, "I'll even give you those eyes I know you like so much."

A muffled sound of humiliation can be heard from the couch, "God, please forget I said that."

Putting the bagel in the toaster and reaching up to the medicine cabinet, you laugh carelessly.

"Never."

…..

Yuuji wakes up with a throbbing headache and an acidic burning in the back of his throat.

He groans, turning on his side before realizing that — he's not in his bed. With blurry vision and sweaty hands fumbling to survey the environment around him, he feels for his phone. The screen is far too bright and completely overridden of missed calls and texts, reading a mocking 2:14 PM when he groans.

When yelling Megumi's name a handful of times doesn't work (it usually does), he opens his Find My Friends app and tracks his roommate. Seeing his icon appear right next to his own while ironically hearing your echoing laughter ring from upstairs, he laughs.

Before he closes his eyes again and deals with a hangover from hell, he sends Megumi a text before tossing his phone across the room.

Ur welcome for not actually calling dibs.

#ive looked at this too long and need it out of my face #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut

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jinxlovebot · 20 days ago

Text

“don’t talk to her like that.” - jinx x kiramman!fem reader fluff & angst(?)

ᰔᩚ: jinx cries :(, mean caitlyn, reader lowkey hates her sister, modern au, not proofread...

................................................................................................

you tip toe down your matted stairs towards your front door to meet jinx, trying to be a quiet as you can you slowly turn your door handle and slip out the door not fully opening it. the reason, why your basically sneaking out of your own house is because of caitlyn. a few years ago, jinx and caitlyn got into a huge fight over something stupid and ever since then caitlyn has had a grudge towards her.

you pull your bag over your shoulder filled with clothes, food etc. to stay over at jinx' tonight. you huff and wrap your hands around your cold body, fast walking to her house when your phone buzzes in your pocket. fuck, you thought. the only person that could be was cait, and speak of the devil. it was. you roll your eyes before picking up the phone.

"hello?" you say into the phone, "do you have any idea what time it is? where are you going?" caitlyn exclaims clearly annoyed, you pull your phone away from your ear and read the time, "its only 11pm, cait. going to jinx.. bye!", caitlyn goes to argue but you end the phone before. you arrive at jinx' house and knock at the door.

the following morning, you wake in jinx' bed. her arms wrapped around your waist both of you only wearing pyjama shorts. you groan from the pearing rays of sunshine through the windows, jinx sleeping soundly. "baby.. wake-" your phone buzzes again, seriously? "yes caitlyn?" you angrily say, "im coming to pick you up.", "cait, are you serious?". your sister was always like this, overprotective and would do anything to get you away from jinx. a part of you hates caitlyn with all your heart but shes still your sister. you turn to wake up jinx, but jinx was already awake tears in her eyes.

".. does she still not want you to be with me?" jinx mumbles, you sigh and lean to kiss her forehead wiping the tear from her cheek, "nothing is going to keep us apart, my sister, your sister. absolutely nobody. okay?". jinx leans her head into your hand, she nods and kisses your palm. a knock on the door startles you both, you throw on jinx' hoodie and head down to tell cait you'll be a sec. opening the door, caitlyn is standing outside with her arms crossed and her eyebrows scrunched. "are you ready?" she grunts, "n-no uhm, not yet" looking over her shoulder vi was sitting shotgun and waves at you, waving back you hear the stairs creak behind you. jinx walks down with your stuff giving you a peck on cheek, "heres your stuff babe!" she says, caitlyn scoffs "who asked you to get her stuff, shes old enough to get it herself." jinx holds your arm and mumbles, "whatever...bitch" you giggle to yourself, and reach down to put on your crocs, "i heard that. i never wanted my sister to go out with a low life like you." you snap up and point your finger in caitlyn's face, her eyes widening "dont talk to her like that."

caitlyn lets out a huge sigh, rolling her eyes at you. "whatever! i have places to be." she turns to head back to her car, shouting back to you saying she'll be back in a few hours. you smile and close the door, jinx was looking at you with love in her eyes. her eyes glistening with tears on her waterline, she pulls you in for a tight hug and says to you,"i'm so lucky i found you. fuck caitlyn" you both laugh and go back upstairs to cuddle. ᰔ

................................................................................................

a/n- someone asked me to do more jinx x kiramman reader but i cant find it!! anyways.. 😔

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hoshifighting · 1 month ago

Note

hi, lyla! saw that requests are open and i literally have this in my drafts lol

could u write about chan and the reader having phone sex since chan is currently on a tour. he had his fleshlight with him and they exchange dirty talks with each other ><

thank u in advance and pls be safe and healthy always! also, love the new theme, i got shocked when i saw u in my notifs lmao

phone sex with chan as he uses a fleshlight (sex toy)

WARNINGS: smut, sex toy (fleshlight), masturbation [m.& f.], dirty talk, chan moaning loud, chan being NEEDY!!!!!!

chan’s voice is crackly but clear over the line, the telltale hotel-room TV buzz in the background. he’s panting already, his breaths uneven, and you can hear the faint, unmistakable wet schlick-schlick sound of his fleshlight in motion. the moment you catch it, you grin wickedly.

“really, chan?” you tease sultry. “you couldn’t even wait for me to pick up?”

“fuck—don’t start,” he groans, it was clear he was frustrated at the same time. “you weren’t answering. i’m desperate, okay?”

you bite your lip, your hand already sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts. “you miss me that much, baby?”

“you have no fucking idea,” he breathes out, the sound of the fleshlight’s wet squelches picking up pace. “this thing—it’s not even close. doesn’t feel like you at all.”

you hum, your fingers dipping lower. “that’s because it’s not me, channie. i’m the only one who knows exactly how to ride you.”

he whines at your words, a high, desperate sound that makes you clench around nothing. “you’re so mean,” he mutters, his voice laced with need, all whiny.

“oh, am i?” you taunt, your tone mockingly sweet. “you’re the one fucking a piece of rubber while i’m over here, all wet and needy for you. but go ahead, channie—tell me how good it feels. is it tight enough for you?”

“it’s—it’s tight,” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. “but it’s not the same. fuck, it’s not even close.”

“of course it’s not,” you purr, your fingers circling your clit. “it doesn’t squeeze you like i do, doesn’t pull you in and milk you dry. poor baby, having to settle for that cheap little toy.”

his moans grow louder, the wet, rubbery sounds filling your ears as he starts to lose control. “fuck, i need you,” he pants, his words tumbling out in a rush. “need your hands, your mouth, your pussy—need all of you.”

you smirk, your own breathing growing heavier. “you’re so needy, channie. moaning like a little slut—what would your members think if they heard you?”

“shut up,” he gasps, his voice breaking on a whimper. “they’re—they’re not gonna hear me. fuck, you’re so mean.”

“mean?” you echo, your tone dripping with mock innocence. “i’m not the one whining and moaning like a bitch right now, am i?”

“fuck—fuck,” he groans, his voice shaking. “please, baby, talk to me. tell me what you’re doing.”

“i’m touching myself,” you admit, your fingers moving faster. “thinking about how much better i’d feel than that stupid toy. bet it doesn’t even grip you right, huh?”

“it doesn’t,” he whimpers, his movements growing frantic. “doesn’t feel like you at all. i need you so bad, baby—please.”

“aw, poor channie,” you coo, your voice softening just a little. “don’t worry, baby. when you get back, i’ll make sure you don’t even think about that dumb little toy ever again.”

his moans reach a new pitch, his breaths ragged and broken. “i’m close,” he gasps desperated. “fuck, i’m so close.”

“then cum for me,” you urge, your voice dropping into a husky whisper. “cum and think about how much better it’ll feel when it’s me.”

with a choked cry, he falls over the edge, his moans loud and unrestrained as he spills into the toy. the wet, messy sounds of his climax make your own orgasm rush through you, leaving you gasping and trembling. as the two of you catch your breath, the line goes quiet for a moment, save for the soft sound of his breathing. finally, he speaks, his voice hoarse but satisfied.

“that…was so much better than this stupid thing,” he mutters, and you can’t help but laugh.

“told you,” you tease. “but don’t throw it away just yet. you’ve still got a few more weeks of tour left, and we’re not done having fun.”

his groan of protest makes you smile, and you can practically hear the blush in his voice as he mumbles, “you’re gonna kill me, baby.”

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dreamescapeswriting · 6 months ago

Text

Unconditional Love ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.7K

⤜PAIRING: Chan X Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: established relationships, mummy issues, chan comforting reader after finding her crying, mummy issues are bought up, trauma dumping i guess as well, producer bang chan not idol chan,

⤜MASTERLIST

The day was supposed to be something special between you and Chan, but everything went wrong at every single turn. The two of you had decided today was the day you were finally going to tackle painting the rest of the spare bedrooms in your shared home but you'd run out of paint on the third room, as well as accidentally spilt some of the new carpet on the top of the stairs, it was safe to say the day was going to hell pretty quickly.

Chan had text letting you know that the store had none of the colours you were using so he'd gone to the next town leaving you alone in the bedroom you were in, staring at the walls as you felt your phone buzzing excessively.

~Mum Calling ~

It had been ringing on and off for the last hour and a half and each time you just stared down at the screen, waiting for it to end only to pick back up once more. You had no idea how she managed to get your new number every time you got one or why she insisted on calling you from burner phones but you knew it was probably her going to everyone you knew begging for the new number.

Giving them her usual sob story about how you'd neglected to tell her you changed your number and as usual they felt sorry for her and gave her the number. Despite not knowing the true reason you never gave her your new number and why you refused to speak to her.

The two of you didn't exactly have the best relationship with one another growing up, instead of treating you like her daughter, she treated you like a bank and a punching bag for insults she would throw your way. Nothing you ever did was good enough in her eyes, nothing you ever did was good...at all for her.

Biting down on your lip you watched as the screen lit up once more with ~Mum Calling ~ but you made no move to answer it. You just watched as you waited for it to end, each time bringing up more and more painful memories for you.

All the times she'd scream in your face because you wanted attention, but you were a child...Children wanted attention from their parents. You'd done practically everything you could to get her to even pay you the tiniest bit of attention, staying in the top 1% of all your schools, getting incredible grades and giving your 100% in everything that you ever did but she didn't care.

The memories of her rushing out of the house every day to go on a spending spree of your father's hard-earned money were still burnt into your memory. Your birthdays were filled with nothing but a cupcake from the maid who had remembered it was your birthday and a card, signed by "Mum and Dad" But both signatures were your father's handwriting. Your mother didn't care and you knew that.

It had taken almost all of your life for you to realise that you meant little to your mother and that she hated you somewhere inside of her. Every conversation...on the rare occasion that you'd have one led to her screaming at you and insulting you about how you could never measure up the way she wanted you to.

~Mum calling~

Sighing to yourself you knew you were going to regret it but you answered the phone, not even able to open your mouth before she started the screaming match,

"What if I was dying?! Huh?! What if I was calling you because I was dying?!" She screeched,

"I'd hope you'd call Emergency services." You mumble a little, sinking against the unpainted wall behind you as you feel yourself shrinking at her words.

"You're the worst daughter in the world you know! You never come to fucking see me! Ever since your father divorced me and threw me to the side for that younger bitch you never see me!" She screamed making you roll your eyes.

Your father hadn't left her FOR anyone, he'd left her because - like you - he'd had enough of her shit and finally decided to leave her. Unfortunately for you, while he could hide from her for the rest of his days you couldn't count yourself that lucky. Your father served her with divorce papers and a restraining order, cutting off total contact with her and leaving her with nothing.

None of his money was hers thanks to the prenup his father had made them sign and she was left with nothing. Hence why she constantly called you, begging and pleading with you to send her a little money because her benefits didn't suit her lavish lifestyle, in her eyes.

"What do you want, mum?" You asked, cutting her off as she continued to ramble about what an awful man your father was when he'd done everything he could to make her happy in all their years of marriage until he finally snapped.

"Is that any way to talk to the woman that gave birth to you?! That raised you?!" She continued on but you ignored her. Raised you? If you counted shoving you in the arms of nannies from the moment she could as raising you then sure. But your mother had never been involved in any of that.

She merely palmed you off in the hands of anyone she could, your grandparents, the nannies...the maids. Even friends. You could still remember the one time you'd stayed over at a friend's home for almost two weeks because your mother had gone to Paris for a "break" a break from what, you never knew. Part of you had hoped she'd forgotten you there and you could live with your friend but your father collected you one night, apologising for not noticing you were missing.

The door to the bedroom opened and you glanced up at Chan who looked concerned, even though the phone wasn't on speaker he could hear your mother screaming at you through the line.

"Mum." You mouthed to him as he sat across from you and handed you a hot chocolate and watched as you took the verbal abuse spewing from your mother's lips.

"I just need a little money," She finally finished, turning on the sweet voice as you rubbed your temples.

"I can't." Your voice came out shakey as it always did whenever you denied her the money she was scrounging for which was every single time she called you.

Because of course, she'd never call you just to check in like anyone else's mother would.

"You ungrateful little fucking bitch! I know you have money! You're with that fucking producer! He must be loaded!" Chan looked at you, slowly shifting so he was sitting behind you, bringing you to sit between his legs as he held you in a comforting manner.

He hadn't known much about your family, he'd met your dad sometimes but the topic of your mother was avidly avoided whenever it was brought up and now he understood why that was.

"And unlike you, I won't beg my husband for cash," You spit at her, only earning another spew of insults flying in your direction but this time Chan took the phone from your fingers and hung up the phone for you.

"Chan..." You whisper as he goes into your settings, blocking her number before setting all unknown numbers to go straight to voicemail from now on and he smiles weakly at you.

"You don't need to deal with this alone anymore." He whispers, throwing your phone to the side and pulling you into a tight embrace, kissing your shoulder softly as you feel yourself relax in his embrace.

"I don't get it," You choke out between sobs, your heart breaking at the thought of everything.

All your life, all you'd ever wanted was a relationship with your mother like everyone else seemed to have. Someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally and be there for you. All your friends had someone they could turn to, their mothers waiting with open arms.

"Why am I not good enough for her?" You finally cry, hiding in Chan's chest as he starts to rub your back softly. Your body trembles as you speak, your voice heavy with everything you'd been holding back for so long.

"Why doesn't she love me? I've always...I've always watched everyone else with their mums, and they look so happy...W-Why don't I get that too?" You cried softly as he stroked your back gently, his heart aching with how sad you were.

"It's not your fault. You deserve...so much love and it hurts me to see you go through this...Your mother's actions don't define your worth, baby." Fresh tears spill down your cheeks but Chan brushed them away gently.

"It feels like they do." You whisper, your voice trembling now.

"I just...I want her to love me, to finally tell me she's proud of me but all she cares about is money. It's like I don't matter to her at all." Chan pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as he rocked you both gently.

"You matter so much, Yn. To me, to your friends, to everyone who truly cares about you. I'm sorry your mum is so blind she can't see how incredible you are...How amazing her daughter is but it doesn't change the fact that you're fucking everything to me and so many others," He whispers as he cradles you into him, your tears soaking through his shirt,

"I know it hurts...but you're loved. You have people around you who care about you deeply... I'm here for you...always," He whispered as he continued to hold you, letting you cry for as long as you needed to in his warm embrace.

After a while, you finally sniffled and wiped your face from the tears,

"Thank you, Channie. I don't know what I'd do without you," Chan simply tightened his hold around you,

"you'll never have to find that out." He promises you, bringing a soft kiss to your forehead as you smile softly up at him.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie

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rhyrhy · 1 month ago

Text

Slut me out˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚

Football! Fuckboy! Abby Anderson x female reader!

Cw: angst, toxic behavior, language, mean! Abby, college/ modern setting Abby!, no talks on body or race specifics! (New characters!)

MDNI! Mlist

Chapter three: Defense and offense (part 5 out now)

December 8th, 8:30 pm.

It had been almost two weeks since you’d heard from her. She had no intention on keeping her promise. It was all temporary. Regardless, Her reputation or not she owed you an explanation.

You made your way to the door of her dorm and thumped harsh knocks on her door. Buzzing with hurt and disappointment that you let yourself be so delusional.

The door swung open, and there she stood—eyes narrowed, hair slightly disheveled, wearing nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms as her eyes flicked over you. Then she rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath.

“Yeah?”

You opened your mouth to let her have it. this was ridiculous, she fucks you twice and then acts like you don’t exist? Hell no, you werent some slut to be used and thrown away. This didn’t even feel like her. It was like you were staring at a stranger. She cared, right? This wasn’t just the long game… right? The date, the apology, the way she held you—it wasn’t just in your head.

Right?

but before you could speak, your gaze drifted past her shoulder. There, in the corner of the room, tangled in her sheets. A girl, hair draped over the pillows, half dressed, without a care in the world.

Wrong

“What?” She gestured for you to speak. as she leaned against the doorframe, like she didn’t owe you a damn thing. As if she had no idea why’d you be at her door…like she hadn’t promised you she’d do better.

So, so wrong.

Your stomach dropped, and whatever fight you had in you evaporated, leaving behind something raw and hollow. Your chest tightened, and you snapped your head back to her face.

“Seriously?” you said louder than expected. You weren’t even sure what you meant by it—seriously, as in the girl in her bed? Or seriously, as in this is how you’re acting now?

She followed your gaze and sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “Jesus, This is what you’re here for? To snoop through my life like some jealous—”

She Stopped herself and continued ,“look, you can’t ’seriously’ be mad because I have a life outside of you?”

Your stomach churned at the casual way she dismissed everything. The way she always dismissed everything. “A life?” you repeated, your voice Growing louder. “You mean screwing me and then ghosting me like I’m nothing? Twice!”

Her expression didn’t waver. but there was something almost defensive about the way she crossed her arms tighter over her chest. She shifted so she wasn’t facing you. “I told you what this was,” she said, her tone frim and quiet. “You’re the one who made it into something it’s not.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. all the promises, and sweet words slowly revealing themselves to be nothing but lies. Sugar coated lies.

“Wow. That’s funny, coming from the same bitch who begged me not to leave the last time I was here.”

Abby’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder toward the bed. Like she couldn’t even bear to look at you, and the hurt in your voice. The girl hadn’t moved, still lounging as if this whole mess had nothing to do with her. The woman looked nothing like you…maybe you weren’t even her type. how could you be so stupid. Why’d you let her convince this was anything other than another body for her. This clearly meant nothing to her. You meant nothing. Why the hell am I even here right now?

“You know what…you’re right. Forget it..Fuck this”

She didn’t stop you as you turned on your heel and walked away. She didn’t call your name or chase after you. And as much as you wanted to believe that her silence meant nothing, it felt like confirmation of everything you were afraid of. The hallway felt colder as you walked down it, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty space.

You had given her the benefit of the doubt. Twice. There wouldn’t be a third time.

——-

Today, January 15th. 2:13pm

The days were starting to blur together. Study-eat-sleep- repeat. This was hell, you needed to go out. So, you texted your ‘bestie’ group-chat and prayed they’d want to come out and do something other than your routine and occasional hurt from the Abby Anderson web you found yourself in.

Layla and charity, girls you met during freshman year and it’s been history since then.

With little to none convincing you found yourself hoping into the backseat of Layla’s car, on the way to some Italian restaurant she picked out.

“Looking good as always, babe,” she said with an approving nod. “And don’t even start me on this week—a total crapfest. We need this night out.”

You gave them both your usual giddy greeting and compliments. Feeling much better already. Abby was now miles away from your thoughts. Charity spun around to face you, her cheeks pink from the compliment. She gave her hair a little flip, admiring how the layers framed her face

“Yeah! I got tired of the long and flat , so I decided to switch it up,” she said, sounding quite pleased with her new haircut you pointed out.

The drive to the Italian place was filled with nonstop chat and laughter. We caught up on all the latest gossip, talked about upcoming classes and parties, and even took a moment to sing along to your favorite tunes. By the time you pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, everyone was in high spirits, the earlier worries and gloom seemed far away. You all piled out of the car, the cool air a slight contrast to the warmth inside the vehicle. The Italian restaurant loomed ahead, its warm lights spilling onto the pavement. It had a cozy, family feel, like a little piece of Italy transported into our town.

You placed orders for the group, feeling your stomach rumbling. Once the orders were placed, you all found a booth by the window that gave us the perfect view of the bustling street outside. We all settled into the cozy leather seats. While Layla and Charity chatted about something funny that happened in their shared psych class. When, in the corner of your eyes were you spotted a familiar figure outside the restaurant.

Abby. The same Abby who you haven’t seen in weeks. Abby Anderson.

She was standing across the street, standing in front of a sleek black car that you didn’t recognize, talking to a few of her teammates. You snapped your gaze back to your friends. ‘Just ignore her’ you repeated in your head. However, Charity suddenly noticed the expression shift. her cheerful demeanor faltering.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her voice dropping to a soft, concerned tone. “You look like someone just spit in your food.” Layla, too, glanced out the window, her eyes following my gaze, her expression turning more curious as she saw who you were looking at.

“Nothing, sorry, what were you saying?” You brushed off. Layla gave you a skeptical look, obviously sensing you hiding something. She was about to prod further, but Charity cut her off, continuing with her story.

“I was talking about Professor Jones, she’s a total hardass. I’m convinced she’s out to get me.”Charity’s words broke through the worrisome expression you had, and you managed a small laugh, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation instead of the scene outside. Charity continued her story, talking about the professor and her seemingly personal vendetta against her, while Layla chimed in every now and then with a sarcastic comment or remark. Meanwhile, your mind kept wandering back to Abby outside, praying she wasn’t coming inside.

The universe must have heard your prayers and wanted to pull your leg.

Just as Charity got to the punchline of her story, the restaurant door opened, and in walked a few more members of the football team, including her. They headed toward the table right across from us, their laughter filling the room. Your heart sank as you realized you couldn’t ignore her after all. Shit shit shit!

Charity, always oblivious to tension, kept talking. She was mid-sentence when one of the football players let out a loud laugh, and while fixing her jacket abbys eyes flicked towards your table, locking with yours for a brief moment. You felt your heart stop. Both of your expressions were unreadable. Her expression shifted slightly, going from lighthearted to something more guarded, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. One of her teammates, a guy with a cocky smile, called out to her.

“Yo, Anderson! Who you looking at?”

Abby forced a smile, her eyes still glued to you for a second, before she turned her head, waving him off“No one. Just someone I recognize,” she replied casually.

No one..no one.. NO one? you had to keep your cool so you keep your gaze at your own table.

Layla and Charity had gone silent at this point, their eyes darting between you and Abby , sensing the tension building. Charity looked downright nervous, while Layla had a look of concern. Needing to save face you pretend you couldn’t hear the conversation a few feet away.

“Char, you said something about a party..?”

You let Abby fade into the background as much as you could. A campus party sounded like a recipe for disaster, but your friends always made things fun so maybe it would be a good distraction. You cracked a few laughs, heartbeat returning to normal.

“Yeah, This is going to be fun…I could definitely use some fun after this week” Layla nodded sympathetically, sensing the underlying meaning in your words. Charity chimed in, a sympathetic frown on her face.

"Aw,, I’m sorry things have been stressful lately. That sucks..." She looked at you, her eyes filled with genuine concern. Layla, too, placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Come with me and lay to the football game this Friday, it’ll be fun. We can take cute pictures”

"Yes! And ..You know you can talk to us anytime, right?"

“Yeah, I know….its just…you guys would kill me if I told you what I did this time” you had to get the weight off, even though you knew they’d ring your neck.

Layla rolled her eyes. “Oh God, what did you do?” she questioned, obviously preparing herself for the worst. Charity looked concerned, but also intrigued at the same time. They watched you sink into the booth in slight embarrassment before speaking.

“We listen and we don’t judge, okay?”

Layla held up a hand, an exaggerated expression of seriousness and understanding on her face.

"Promise, girly." *She said. Charity repeated the gesture, adding an extra dramatic flair with a solemn nod.

You flicked your eyes to Abby’s table with her teammates then back to them. Preparing yourself for the reactions they were going to give.

“Speaking of Friday…I might…have…fell…into the..Anderson trap..like an Idiot”

Silence fell at the table, Charity’s eyes widening with shock, Layla with her jaw dropped. After a moment of processing, they both erupted at the same time.

“NO!” “YOU WHAT?!” “WHEN DID—“

You cut them off and shushed them. Charity had a hand clamped over her mouth, eyes as wide as saucers. Layla was still trying to process the information, her face looking like she was in shock.

“Sorry, sorry!” Charity whisper-shouted, still looking shocked.

“How—I mean…you—” Layla sputtered and stammered, clearly unable to form a coherent sentence.

Meanwhile, the table across the room had gone quieter, and you swore you saw abbby glance over in your direction again. God this was torture.

Layla’s eyes flicked to the table, realizing the soccer team was within earshot. She leaned forward, dropping her voice even lower. “Are you serious? You and—” she cut herself off, obviously trying to choose her words carefully, even though she looked like she was going to burst. Charity, however, had no such tact and blurted out, “You and Abby?”

After explaining the situation they turned their faces to looks of irritation towards how things turned out and sympathy.

“Maybe you didn’t make the best choice,” charity said carefully. “But we all do things we regret sometimes. We’re here for you, whatever happens.” Layla sat back in the booth, her expression still a mix of frustration and worry. She glanced over at Abby again, a look of pure annoyance crossing her face.

“And dude, Of course she made it seem genuine,” she said in a frustrated tone. “That’s what she does. She knows exactly how to charm her way into your head…and pants.”

Layla gave you an understanding look before chiming in. "I've seen her play around with girls before…She gets them to buy into whatever line she's selling, then leaves them heartbroken just as fast as she swept them off their feet." She paused and relaxed her shoulders “She wasn’t always like that, especially not sophomore year. Ugh, What is her deal”

———

You felt a bit more relaxed getting the situation off your shoulders. Your friends had moved topics to keep these light and mindful of the table a few feet away. Needing a breather you made your way toward the restrooms, the buzz of conversations and laughter filled your ears. The lighting was dim, casting long shadows across the floor. You pushed open the door and stepped into the quiet, empty bathroom. For a brief moment, you were alone, the silence a stark contrast to the noise outside…until the door opened again, and someone else walked in.

You glanced back to see who had entered. The door closed with a soft click, revealing a familiar face. Abby, had stepped into the bathroom, her long limbs moving with an ease that could almost be described as a prowl. She hadn’t noticed you yet, her back to you. Can’t I have two seconds to myself!- those thoughts were cut off.

Abby walked up to the sink next to you, still seemingly oblivious to your presence. She leaned forward, redoing the end of her braid, her eyes on her own reflection. Her proximity was enough to make your heart pound, the memories of the previous night rushing back to you. A few moments passed in an almost painful silence. Her profile was just as striking as always, those sharp jawlines and long lashes making your stomach flutter and tighten despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Finally, her eyes flickering towards you in the mirror for a brief second. There was a flash of something you couldnt place in her expression, but she didn’t say anything for a few moments. Instead, she simply continued fixing her hair, her cool demeanor not wavering despite the fact that she’d now seen you.

after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. Her voice was almost painfully casual, lacking any hint of the same closeness you'd felt before.

“Hey”

when you didn’t reply she paused again. She shifted slightly, her reflection in the mirror flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. A hesitation. An uncertainty. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she said, trying for lightness but failing.

“Mm,” you replied, nonchalantly

Her brow furrowed slightly, the silence stretching between you. She leaned against the sink, her gaze flicking to yours in the mirror. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

The word came out flat, but you meant it. You weren’t going to make this easy for her—not after everything.

Abby exhaled sharply, pushing a hand through her braid. “You really think this is how I wanted things to go?”

You didn’t respond. Just stared at her, your jaw tight, refusing to give her anything.

“You think it was easy for me?” she said finally, her voice low but steady. “You think I don’t—” She stopped herself, exhaling harshly. “Forget it. You’ve already made up your mind.”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice clipped, sharp as glass.

Abby flinched at your tone, her jaw tightening. For a second, it looked like she might say more, but she stopped herself, her eyes falling to the sink.

——

God, Friday was going to be a mess.

——

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