#so much more i could say but so little time

[madamechrissy]

Stripclub Owner Sukuna

Stripclub owner Sukuna x Fem! Stripper reader- headcanons

This will be a full oneshot or mini seriess, if you wanna get tagged in this drop a comment. <3 MDNI- warnings- OBSESSED Sukuna, oral sex (both receiving) fingering, spitting, cum swallowing (both of em lol) he's almost a little Yandere tbh lol, explicit sex, mentions of drugs, Sukuna being whipped lol

Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'

Soooo this is kinda a tease of what's to come for this lil storyyy (lmk if you're interested in the full version!) <3

permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @n1vi @aldebrana @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy - also taggingggg- @naammiii @msniks @1worm1 <3

[aomiiine]

COME HOME? CUM HOME!

LIKE A ROMANCE TURNED EROTIC … husband farspace colonel!caleb & wife!reader. warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI (18+), pure filth ahead !! established relationship, fluff for like the first 3-4 paragraphs, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up b4 action irl), impatient caleb lol, creampie, breeding, teasing, uhh daddy kink, degradation (he calls u a slut), petnames: pip-squeak(once!!!), baby, honey, princess, brat, not proofread wordcount. 1.9k (small smth for caleb’s release!! a bit rushed) taglist. @jellysix

𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑺 from service after nearly a year, caleb is more than eager to reacquaint himself with his wife’s body.

22nd January. Today. It was the day your beloved husband finally returned from service as the Farspace Colonel. You stayed up all day, all night since the day before, restless and worried of your husband’s well being. Sure, news hasn’t said much about the farspace dealings but being a Space Hunter, you heard a thing or two from work.

“Honey? I’m back— uumph!”

you raised from the couch the moment you heard keys jingling from outside your front door, reaching Caleb as soon as he opened the door to take a step inside. Your arms circled his torso beneath his arms, nearly tackling him with your jump which he caught with ease, tossing his bag to the side on the floor carelessly.

“Hello to you too, my little brat,” Caleb giggled, lifting you up from the ground in his arms with a little twirl. He buried his face into the top of your head, hair tickling his nose as he inhaled your scent deeply, taking the unique scent of yours—the scent of home.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea,” he gushed, lips against your hair with his gloved hand cradling the back of your head, tucking you deep under his chin. “Then you’re can’t imagine how much I missed you,” you mumbled against the firm plane of his chest, his uniform warm against the warm curves of your body pressed against his perfectly like puzzle pieces complementing each other. “Dramatic as always,” he chuckled warmly.

wholesome reunion, right? Caleb indulged himself in you, catching up to all the days he missed out in your life. He stayed patient, listening like a good husband all the while he kept the cruel side of him that clawed at his skin to pounce and ravage you. Caleb knew he couldn’t. Not now, at least. So bit his tongue, curled his fingers to a fist so tight, you could hear the faint strain of leather.

“Sweetheart.. so much has happened since I left. I missed out on so much, baby, don’t you think it’s time to make up for lost time?” He finally spoke his mind after the hums and replies of acknowledgement at your joyful gushing, the sight of you so happy to see him igniting a certain desire both innocent and not inside him.

you quirked a brow at him, small smile on your face along at his words. You were glad he wanted to make up for lost time, but now?

“Right now? Sure, I suppose. If you have an idea how,” you shrugged with acceptance, nodding as you shifted yourself on the couch to face him better. And in the split second your eyes met his face, you could’ve sworn you saw the edge of his lips curled to a smirk.

“Oh, I do have ideas.. So many of them.” Caleb’s hand on your waist squeezed the flesh there lightly before pulling you closer to him, other hand moving to tilt your head up with a finger beneath your chin. In that moment, your eyes blinked wildly, throat dry and lips parted invitingly for his lips to capture yours. And they did, securely so. His tongue plundered deep into the warm cavern of your mouth, slanting and sweeping his tongue over yours.

“Shouldn’t take it lightly when I say I miss you, pip-squeak,” caleb murmured once he broke the kiss, hand previously beneath your chin now holding your face, long slender fingers sliding up your jaw until they raked through your hair.

His other hand wandering your body made you gasp, cold leather fingers sneaking beneath the hem of your shirt to skim through the surface of your belly. He wasn’t shy with his exploration, making his way to cup the soft mound of your breast until it filled his palm.

“Fuck, these curves, these pretty tits that are just begging for their daddy’s touch, yeah?” Your husband seemed in awe as he reacquainted himself with your body, kneading the flesh of your breast through the confines of your bra, all until he tugged it down to spill you bare to his hand. Every tug and pinch of pebbled nipple sent jolts of desire straight to your core, your back arching into him involuntarily, much to his pleasure.

“C-Caleb, maybe we should head into the bedroom— ack!” Your efforts to reason with him was interrupted with a firm yet gentle shove on your shoulder, his larger frame hovering over yours that was laid on the couch. “Bedroom, living room, what difference does it make? We’re alone regardless,” he replied with a sly smirk, pushing your shirt up to your chin, exposing your bare midriff and tampered bra.

“Besides, your legs are welcoming me so wholeheartedly.. Is it force of habit?” Caleb taunted, free hand taking off his hat to toss to on the coffee table beside them. His other hand wrapped around the curve of your thigh, nestling himself between them as your legs locked around his waist securely.

“Must’ve fucked you so good before I left. Trained you just for this moment, didn’t I?” He drawled, free hand resting flat on your pelvis, the cold metal band on his ring fingers tracing idle circles on your skin sending goosebumps to your body. You whimpered his name, unsure exactly to ask from him all the while you squirmed beneath his touch.

“Baby, please,” you pleaded breathlessly, eyes flickering down to his hand flat on your lower belly, fingers dangerously low to your core. His hand went back up to hook a finger under the waistband of your pants, tugging down to your knees, pulling up and off your legs. All that was left was your panties, the a wet spot slowly blooming on the fabric.

“Please, what? Be more specific.. I only take clear orders, after all,” your husband chuckled lowly, leaning down closer to you, hips nestling closer to yours just enough to let you feel the bulge of his cock growing with every passing moment.

“Please what?” He repeated by your ear hotly, knowing exactly he was doing by teasing you like this.

you on the other hand, was torn between your pride and need for him. You didn’t like the thought he could see how much affected you with his absence, and return. This was surely be material for him to tease you for later on. But at the moment, you could care. You needed him to calm the raging desire in your heat, desperately.

”please.. fuck me,” you whispered, brows furrowed as you relented to his advances, eyes fixated on the sight of his hips grinding with shallow thrusts into you, the ridge of his cock straining in the confines of his pants painfully evident against the soft folds of your panty clad pussy.

The colonel smirked beside your ear, leaning away just enough to look at your face, drinking in the lust dazed expression you had on right now.

“Good girl,” he purred, grabbing each of your thighs up all of the sudden, lifting your legs up and pushing them up to your chest. He release one leg of yours to unbuckle his own belt with ease, unzipping his fly and tugging his pants down with his boxers to let his throbbing cock breath. He hissed at the cold air, stroking himself with a fist lazily before leaning down to align his tip over your clothed folds, pulling the fabric aside. A soft moan escaped your lips at the direct contact, his hips nudging forward to pierce through your slick entrance.

“So fucking tight, perfect pussy remembers me, baby..,” caleb rambled, slowly burying his girth deeper into your warm heat that welcomed the intrusion, fluttering around his shaft with each move he made. He proceeded to lift your legs up to hang over his shoulder, the narrow space between your calves allowing him a view of your sprawled on the couch, hair sprawled on the velvet cushion, features scrunched into a face of unadulterated pleasure. But nothing turned him on more than the sight of your tits bouncing back and forth in time with his thrusts, your voice raising in volume each time he got deeper in your depths—rearranging your guts with frantic jerks of his hips.

“Come on, cum for me.. Welcome me back with a biiig, wet mess, baby,” caleb coaxed, hugging your legs to his body with both arms, fucking in and out of your drenched cunt with ruthless abandon. His hips were unforgiving, drunk in the feeling of your pussy sucking and wringing him dry for he was worth. It took you all the focus and energy you could muster to keep yourself stable on the narrow surface of the couch, holding on tight to the headrest you clung onto.

“Caleb, ngh— too fast, too fast!” You slurred, your husband’s bulbous cockhead bullying the spongy spot that he knew by heart, beyond eager to make you explode on his cock. “What was— shit— that? Too slow?” Caleb teased between pants, grinning at the tight spasms of your velvety walls, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. And he was determined to make you reach it first.

his name fell from your lips repeatedly like a mantra, nails burying into the cushion of the couch’s headrest with the fabric threatening to break—like how the coil in your belly threatened to snap. Caleb’s cock plunging into your core was reckless still, especially so now that you were on the brink of climaxing. So in a final effort, Caleb sheathed himself inside you to the hilt, settling on shallow thrusts and grinds on your clit. Much to his pleasure, the change of pace finally made you cum, your juices coming out in a spray on his cock and his pelvis, the pressure only urging him to start moving again—harder this time.

“That’s my wife, cumming all over me like a dirty slut, hm? Don’t worry, princess, I’ll be joining you aah— soo enough,” he groaned, arms binding your shivering legs tighter as he fucked into your pussy like a man deprived of any sorts of physical touch—and in a way, he way. He went on too long without you, he had to melt himself in your sopping cunt again.

“Yesyesyesyes, agh— fuck!” Caleb groaned loud, a deep guttural moan coming from his chest without his control when he felt his balls draw up tight, cock heavy and throbbing as jet after jet of semen was pumped into your womb. His hips didn’t dare to stop plummeting into your vice-like channel until he was sure that his seed would take root, that you would be swollen with his child after a month or two.

Well, he would need a good reason to stay by your side after that long, torturous, mission.

[luveline]

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away. 

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly. 

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?” 

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.” 

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm. 

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds. 

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow. 

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you. 

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds. 

“Thank you.” 

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.” 

“Did you get yourself a new one too?” 

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.” 

You drop your chin. 

“You are,” he says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit. 

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.��� 

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.” 

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?” 

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh. 

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap. 

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.” 

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes. 

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.” 

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.” 

“I still need a shower.” 

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.” 

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Chan*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut:

A/N: I could have kept going with this and yes it’s already long. But like- Chans the definition of this series ok? 😂

-💜

•He’s just in his element.

•If any of them have a daddy thing it’s 100% him.

•He treats you like a princess.

•Spoils the fuck out of you.

•Gets grumpy when you try and pay for anything because how dare you.

•He’s such a gentleman.

•You’ll never have to open your own doors.

•He enjoys taking long showers together and after

•He loves having you sit infront of him brushing your hair for you.

•Matching outfits, matching jewelry.

•He’s so easy to talk to too.

•If you’re having a bad day, you know you can just curl up with him and cry.

•He’s great at consoling you when anything happens.

•Holding you tightly to him as he reminds you about how amazing you are.

•He’s super clingy honestly.

•If you’re with him he’s always gotta be touching you in some way.

•Hand holding, Legs touching. Something.

•You keep him more grounded than you probably know.

•He finds almost anything you do super cute.

•Oh this man just gets all cheesy when you’re pouting. Finds it so fucking cute.

•Definitely doesn’t have a whole folder of songs for your birthday or anniversary.

•You’re literally like a fire to him and he’s the moth.

•It’s really hard to ever really really upset him.

•He’s pretty level headed.

•Most days if you’re being grumpy or cranky he’ll sit with you asking what’s the matter and how he can help.

•If you’re giving him attitude almost always he can make you stop with just that look.

•He has the habit of telling you way to sweetly “fix your attitude princess or I’ll have to fix it for you. Be good for daddy”

•He’s really to soft, but when he needs to be stern he does it in a way that still makes you feel so safe.

•He’s really just a safe space. You’ll never feel like your emotions are too much with him.

•He constantly will reassure you.

•He sends you such loving messages too, long paragraphs of why he loves you.

•Never not having a good morning or good night text. Even if you just got off the phone.

•It feels like taboo to him not too.

•He’s not a super jealous type, but he’s protective.

•He knows you love him so much, your eyes never leaving his.

•But how can he trust others when you’re just so cute.

•He’ll hover over you when you’re out sometimes. Like he’s waiting. Ready to attack anyone who dares upset him princess.

•Constantly hugs yous tightly burring himself into you saying “mine” cutely.

•He’s really just wrapped around your finger and he’s fine with that.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He has almost 2 personality’s.

•The super sweet loving one where he wants to take it so slow.

•He’ll eat you out for hours making sure you cum before you even fuck.

•He talks so much. He talks you through it 100%.

•He makes just as much noises as you do tbh.

•He’s a missionary lover for sure.

•Always wanting to see your pretty face. Plus how else is he gonna kiss you?

•He’s just so sensual and passionate.

•Other times he- can just lose himself.

•Stressful day? He’s having you on your knees while he face fucks you.

•He’s definitely into free use with you especially waking you up with head or his dick just slowly pushing into you.

•All with complete consent. He’ll never do anything without asking you prier and establishing boundaries.

•Has a safe word and does the color system.

•He can get ahead of himself sometimes. Losing it with you.

•Pushing your face into the bed fucking you like he hates you.

•Those beautiful hands of his leaving bright red hand prints on your ass.

•Or wrapped around your neck like a choker. He also really enjoys having you suck his fingers.

•Breeding kink. Breeding kink. Breeding kink.

•He’s also somehow so good at degrading you while making it sound so- sweet?

•”My dirty little princess, you’re soaked just from kissing?”

•He has one of those machines that can fuck you while he’s not home. And of course a custom made dildo that is a mold of his cock.

•Loves FaceTiming you while on tour guiding you through your orgasm.

•Always teases you and doesn’t let you cum at first. Not until you’re begging well enough.

•This man is also team remote vibe.

•He just thinks it’s so damn adorable watching you squirm while you’re out.

•He’s not much better though. He can’t keep his hands to himself.

•Could be having dinner out and he’s gonna be knuckles deep into your sopping hole till he can’t handle it.

•100%. Fucks you infront of mirrors. Not only so you can watch how well he fucks you.

•But so he can tell you things like “look how beautiful you are when you’re cumming around my cock”

•Like I said he’s definitely a talker so something’s he says are:

•”Daddy’s gonna fill you so full princess. I’m gonna fuck you till I know you’re pregnant.”

•”Don’t you run from me, I’m not done with you yet”

•”God it’s like you were made to take my cock princess.”

•”Daddy loves you, love you so fucking much.”

•And one of his favorites “you say you can’t take it anymore but you’re pretty hole is telling me she wants more”

•King of aftercare.

•On days he goes a little harder he’s making sure you know he loves you.

•He has you wrapped in his arms while he talks to you.

•Likes to sing to you to calm you down from intense orgasms.

•Warm baths with candles, and snacks.

•Kinda like Minho he puts one of his hoodies in the dryer for you.

•Making sure it smells like him before he wraps you in the warmth.

•You’re basically trapped for a while because he just wants to hold you.

•He really loves you and he wants to make sure you always know that.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[angelfic]

theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

[bdbueckers]

ballin' pt.2 | p.b

"i just finished on you, i just did it on you"

paring: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, dom!paige, sex, strap usage, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral (both receiving.. partially), spanking, squirting, gets a little sappy at the end ofc, if i missed anything feel free to lmk!

word count: 2.5k

summary: your girlfriend reminds you just how much she loves you and only you.

author's note: pt.2 is here! i hope it ends up being everything y'all hoped for, if not more. feedback is appreciated as always and feel free to send asks with regards to this fic or maybe even something else you think i could write. alright, enough yapping from me..enjoy! x (once again if you hate it do NAWT fucking tell me)

read the first part here

“we’re not even close to done. strip.” 

she looks up at you, demanding, anticipating. already ridding herself of the rest of her clothes.

reaching behind you undo the knot at the nape of your neck. your dress falls, finally revealing your top half completely. paige leans up to attach her mouth to one of your nipples, always quick to give them her undivided attention. 

“every part of you is so perfect baby, fuck.” she moans, mouth open and her tongue out circling your hardened buds.

your hand holds the back of her head, pushing her farther into your cleavage. your head lulls back, mouth open in a silent moan at the feeling of her hot mouth on your skin and the cool air that follows when she switches from right to left.

paige slides to the edge of the bed, forcing you to stand so the rest of your dress could fall, pooling at your feet. she pulls her head back from your chest and her eyes are met with you fully naked for the first time tonight. 

your heart hammers in your chest as she eyes from head to toe, her bottom lip between her teeth when she catches a glimpse of your folds. placing a hand under her chin you lean down to bring your lips to hers once more. almost as if for good measure, ensuring that this moment was real. when you stand again you already see her reaching towards your bedside table for a certain detachable piece of silicone.

“p, can i help you put it on?” you utter, voice lower than you realized.

with a slight nod she beckons you closer, but not before stopping you a few inches from her with an extended hand on your hip.

“on your knees.” 

not even needing her to finish saying all three words you dropped down, eye to eye with the harness and strap in her hands. grabbing it from her you begin to secure it. stopping when it was on her, you trail languid kisses up and down her upper thighs and hips, hands sliding up her abs and resting just underneath the curve of her tits. 

with a hand on the side of your face she forces you to look up at her.

“i’m getting impatient.”

“oh and you were talking about me earlier?” you asked, leaving another kiss on her lower stomach right above the strap harness.

“how about you put your mouth to work on my shit instead of running it so much, hmm?” paige grabs you by the crown of your head. not even waiting for an answer from you.

wetting your lips you wrap them around the tip, moaning at weight on your tongue. gradually taking more of “her” in your mouth you make the mistake of looking up to gauge any reactions she might be having. she’s already looking back at you.

forcing your head down until your nose meets her stomach and you’re gagging she begins to rut into your mouth a little, relishing in the gurgling noises coming from you.

“fuck, that’s right baby. get it wet.” she hisses, only throwing her head back momentarily before gazing down at you again.

paige and her strap were almost inseparable. any time she got the opportunity to fuck you with it, it became an extension of her. if you hadn’t known any better you’d think that she could actually feel it. that’s just how she was.

“hmm, i think that’s enough?” she questions, a smirk painting her lips. with her hand now on your ponytail she’s tugging you off of her cock. you whine a little as you feel drool slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin slightly.

“if this shit was really mine i’d cum all over your face right now,” paige starts.

she can see how you press your thighs together even tighter, your clit begging for some kind of attention.

“i know you’d look perfect. you’re already sucking me off like your life depends on it, imagine you covered in my cum.” 

“p…baby please” you huff, already wet all over again and ready to be filled to the brim.

“you know i like it when you beg.” she says, roughly bringing you to your feet with that same hand holding onto your hair. as soon as you’re standing you'rer pushed on to the bed again. you don’t even need her to tell you before you’re on your hands and knees with your ass in the air.

you hear her take in a sharp breath before you feel her hand come down on your ass, the now lubricated tip teasingly rubbing up and down your sopping wet cunt. you almost fall right into your stomach at the contact, letting out a mix of a whine and a groan.

she leans down, her chest pressed against your back as she uses her hand to continue dragging the strap through your folds.

“c'mon baby, gotta tell me how bad you want it.” she whispers in your ear.

instinctively pushing back into her you huff a bit, knowing that you needed to say something because she absolutely would drag this out.

“paige, fuck– please i need it, i wanna feel you so bad, i need you inside me now.”

“more.”

oh my god.

“nobody fucks me like you do baby, i’ve been thinking about this all night, please”

“you sound so pretty like this princess.” you can almost hear the grin in her voice.

as your brain registers the praise you feel her roll her hips forward, immediately bottoming out.

your jaw goes slack and you feel like you could scream but the lack of air in your lungs from the sharp breath you’ve just taken in makes it a little hard.

“shit, look at how you’re sucking me in already.” she groans, eyes never leaving your pussy as it swallows her inch by inch.

it doesn’t even take her a few strokes before she has one hand gripping tightly onto your hip and another pressing down on your shoulder blades to keep your back arched. she’s plowing into you at this point.

you can’t control the noises that leave you. from the squelching of your pussy and whatever manages to come out of your mouth it's all extremely lewd, the thought of how loud you’re being never crosses your mind.

“tell me how it feels.” she demands.

you try to speak but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a whine as you face plant into the mattress.

not going for that paige grabs onto your ponytail, yanking you back until your body is pressed against hers. her thrusts don’t still or slow.

“am i fucking you dumb baby? better say something or i’ll stop.” she pants into your ear, tonguing your earlobe.

“mmm– it feels so good p, please don’t stop!” you yelp, as she releases her hold on you pushing you down into the mattress, somehow pumping into you faster.

“i can’t. believe. you. think. i. would. ever. want. to. fuck. somebody. else.” she says, punctuating each word with a thrust into your leaking hole, each stroke surprisingly feeling deeper than the last.

she brings down a hand to your clit, making tight circles upon contact.

“paige!” you gasp, reaching back to attempt to get a hand on her stomach to disrupt her thrusts. she immediately moves it away, smacking her lips together.

“you wanted it, so take it. don’t ever try to push me away.” she mutters, one hand now holding yours behind your back.

your chest is burning from how hard you’re breathing, your throat dry because you can’t keep your mouth closed, drool pooling beneath you on the duvet.

paige uses her free hand to deliver a quick slap to your clit, causing you to produce a moan that’s borderline pornographic. 

she watches you clench around her.

“you liked that?” she lets out almost mocking you.

“yes, oh my god–YES”

your feel her fingers on your clit again and you screw your eyes shut. 

“p, you'resogood–shit please don’t stop, i’m gonna cum!” your words now slurred together.

“i bet you are. c’mon, give it to me.” she moans, getting off on the sight of you like this.

paige doesn’t let up and soon you’re panting ridiculously fast as you feel static from your head to your toes, creaming her strap.

“oh baby, look at you…so messy.” paige groans, slowing her thrusts to get you through your high but never coming to a complete stop. just milking you.

after a few more delicate thrusts paige pulls out of you and watches your hole clench and unclench, muttering a breathy “fuck” from behind you.

she helps you roll onto your side to catch your breath as you collapse. you can’t help but grin to yourself like an idiot. you feel her peppering feather light kisses all over your forehead, cheeks, and down your neck as you relish in the feeling of your orgasm. 

“i do remember you sayin' sumn about how you wanted to fuck me until you pass out...” you hear from the foot of the bed.

lifting your head slightly you see her reaching out to grab your ankles and pull you towards the foot of the bed once more.

“what are you–“

“let me clean up the mess you made.” 

your eyes go wide as paige spreads your legs rather gently placing kiss after kiss to both your inner thighs, her veiny hands firm in their hold on you to ensure that you can’t squirm out of her reach. 

your breathing is airy and uneven again when you feel her getting closer and closer to your cunt, obviously still covered in cum.

“paige, i don’t know if i can–“

“you can. and you will. one more and then i’m done with you…for tonight.” she responds, not entertaining the idea of you getting out of this.

her breath is hot, hovering over you. you weakly lift yourself only your elbows to watch as her tongue wets her bottom lip and juts out once more to lick up your pussy from your leaking hole to your clit. 

you gasp loudly, your head falling to one shoulder. paige’s eyes are low as she holds eye contact with you for a second. she moans and they immediately shut when she tastes you.

she sucks your clit between her lips before circling her tongue around it a few times, you moan and your legs threaten to clamp shut around her head but her hands are there to pry them wide open again. 

you let yourself fall off of your elbows, chest heaving and you let out a whimper when she pumps her tongue into your hole. 

 you’re so sensitive this brings tears to your eye. you reach down and tangle your hands in her hair that’s a mess now, vastly contrasting how it looked earlier in the night. you think about pushing her head away but as much as it hurts it feels so good.

you feel greedy almost. already chasing your third orgasm of the night.

pulling back from her assault on your clit paige uses two fingers to circle your hole teasingly and then spread your folds. she gathers all of the saliva in her mouth before pursing her lips and spitting onto your cunt, connecting her mouth to you again shaking her head from side to side.

your eyes roll back into your head and a noise leaves your mouth, half a moan and half a sob. 

“shit–baby i’m close please don’t stop”

using the same hand that was just in you, paige reaches up to pinch one of your nipples. her mouth never faltering in motion.

this sends you over the edge. covering her hand with yours you’re screaming her name as tears roll down your cheeks. your back arches off of the bed as paige’s tight grip holds you down.

your eyes are so far into the back of your head that you think you see white for a second. then your stomach is tight and you get a sudden and overwhelming urge to pee. 

that’s not what’s happening.

paige’s mouth is wide open as you squirt, covering her chin, her chest, and the sheets beneath you. if you had the mental capacity to give a fuck you’d be a little shocked but right now it didn’t matter.

you can’t help but sob uncontrollably now, your pussy worn out and the rest of your body exhausted as well. paige disconnects herself from your lower half and is quick to hover over you kissing away any tears that continue to fall. she’s cooing in your ear in admiration, still a bit in awe herself.

“shh, it’s okay. you did so good for me baby, took it a fucking champ.” she whispers, laying beside you whilst laying an arm over your midsection as you begin to calm down.

you’re nothing but a sniffling mess but you try to pry your eyes open and you get a slight glimpse into the same blue ones that got you in this position.

leaning in paige places the softest kiss possible on your lips. you kiss back with the last bit of energy you have left before taking a deep breath as everything around you fades.

you don’t know how much time passes but when you blink back to consciousness you’ve been wiped down and you’re wearing clean clothes. your head rests on paige’s chest and her fingers trace shapes into the skin that’s exposed at your hip with your shirt ridden up. 

turning your head slightly, careful not to disturb paige as you can tell she’s in and out of sleep herself.

“look who finally decided to wake up,” she teases, “i got a little scared when your eyes closed and didn’t open again but when i realized you actually did pass out i had to stop myself from laughing.”

in disbelief you smack your lips and push at her chest, “you’re fucking ridiculous.” you say before also letting out a chuckle of your own at the irony of the situation. 

“no, it seems like i…fuck ridiculous.” 

“there’s no way you’re dead ass right now.”

“oh but i am.”

ignoring the way you roll your eyes she pulls you closer to her with the same hand that was already on your hip. kissing your forehead and resting her head atop yours. 

“thank you for tonight,” she whispers, grinning when you instinctively lift one leg to wrap around her waist, getting as close and comfortable as possible.

“i should be thanking you,” you begin to respond before yawning and burying your head into the crook of her neck. “tonight was perfect, i don't think i've ever cum that hard in my life.”

"you're welcome, you know i'm always at your service."

chuckling again in disbelief you gaze up at her one more time.

“i love you.”

"and i love you. only you, forever and always you. never forget it.'

you both finally shut your eyes and the night ends somehow better than you could’ve possibly imagined. you’re fed, fucked out, and quite literally wrapped in love.

[okwonyo]

SUGAR TALKING ꒪ ✿⠀ making doe eyes at them.

TESTI ────── 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 !

❪ 日语 ❫ & fem!rea 1OOO fluff established relationship non-idol au ❜ skinship kissing ◜‿◝ REBLOGS&CLICK

지아 ⠀⦂⠀ since it won the poll :O

HEESEUNG

usually, he isn’t the the type to talk too much during movie nights. his hand always in yours as he watches the movie enthusiastically, never missing one bit of it.

but today it seems different— you don’t really know if it’s either because he is very passionate about this specific actor or if it’s because you called the said actor ‘hot’. but he won’t stop talking.

“seriously!” he huffs after a few seconds of calm. he smiles and shakes his head in fake nonchalance, “i don’t understand what he has that i don’t. do you prefe—”

the rest of his sentence dies in his throat when his eyes meet yours. you look at him wide eyed, with a little pout that makes his heart skip.

“shut up please,” you ask with a honey coat voice— his eyes grow wide. he is soon giggling, leaning on you, as if what you just said wasn’t almost an insult.

at least he stops talking.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

it is not a secret that you can get anything you want out of him. whether it’s his money or the entire world— you ask and you shall receive.

therefore, you don’t need to do anything else but ask for something that you want. because you know you got him wrapped around your finger. and that, if you wanted the moon, then you will have the moon.

sometimes, however, there is things that can’t be bought or that are hard to ask for. today, you want his attention.

you decided to not go bother him as you usually do. no, you choose to stare at him from across the room with the most bambi looking eyes you could manage. he should have noticed by now.

the long silence is what alarms him. he looks over you quickly, “are you—” then he looks again and his mouth falls agape. he sighs fondly, “c’mere, baby,”

JAKE

it’s not your fault. it really isn’t. he shouldn’t have been so easy to tease in the first place. getting a blush out of him is too easy and he is way too lovely for you to control yourself.

and ever since he confessed that he loved when you looked at him with those yes— you cannot stop looking at him with those eyes.

for a while, he is too occupied on his phone to even notice. but when his eyes shoots up to meet yours, he immediately smiles.

instinctively biting his lower lip, he stays silent for a while before throwing his head back and whining, “stop doing that!”

your eyes keep watching his growing blush as you laugh, “like what?” and he groans.

SUNGHON

he swears you do it all the time, but the truth is that you don’t even know what he is talking about. he mays affirm that you play dumb in purpose— you don’t, you really don’t.

the thing is that, he would say that you are trying to seduce him whenever you try to do anything. you run a hand through you hair? you want to make out. you grin? you want him to kiss you.

you just assumed he was that down bad.

“you are playing with me,” he smirks, looking down at you. your bodies moves along with the train you are standing in. you were already looking at him, but now there is confusion in your eyes. “don’t look at me like that.”

“what?” you giggle. honestly, you didn’t even know you were looking at him. admiring him is natural as breathing to you, “are you crazy?”

“when you look at me like that,” he whispers as he leans in. your arms are hugging his waist, your head is all the way titled up and he is so handsome, “my heart beats with need.”

SUNOO

you know he doesn’t get mad often— even if he does act like he is. he is too much of a softie to even think of being annoyed with you.

more times than not, he gets sulky. lips puckered as he gives you the silent treatment. it is always for silly things, however, just because he loves when you ask him to talk to you.

“i love you,” you tell him, holding onto his arm. he doesn’t do anything, obviously hiding his smile—and failing. “look at me.”

he takes a deep breath before bringing his focus on your instead of the dishes in front of him. his eyes fall into yours, “stop,” he says. turning red.

he tries to keep his annoyed attitude as hard as possible. he starts to take care of the dishes in the sink again— as if, trying to distract himself.

he keeps peeking at you. unable to control himself, he ends up crumbling. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

JUNWGON

“my love, i’ll have to go eventually,” his tone is soft, his chuckles makes it harder for you to even consider letting him leave the bed and let him leave you.

he is not even gone. he is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you. you hold his hand with both of yours— chasing after his warmth that you already miss.

you don’t really care where he is going, you want him here. you make the most adorable eyes you can put up, in a tiny voice you say, “can’t you stay a little longer?”

he seems a tad taken aback. on of his eyebrows shots up ever so slightly. pretty red lips forms a ‘o’ and his dimples smiles when he smiles.

gets back under the cover, close to you. he kisses you gently, “work can wait.”

RIKI

“leave me alone!” your boyfriend whines, faking annoyance. he is laying on your bed, next to your plushies, with his hands on your hips as you sit on

him. he acts like he wants to push you away but his grip is way too strong.

he gets up, rather abruptly, making you settle on his laps. he makes sure you are as comfortable as possible but holds your wrists when you try to reach his hair.

“just a few!” giggles makes your voice tremble. you try to get out of his handle but you can’t— he is much stronger that you, “please!”

he looks at the hello kitty hairpins in your hands with narrowed eyes. he doesn’t look against the idea at all, you know he just fights because of principle, “no!”

you tilt your head to the side slightly, the prettiest pout appearing on your lips. you look at him with a specific look— the one who made him choked on his drink the first time. “please, for me,”

you are already wearing a victorious grin as soon as he groans. he ends up with more than just a few hairpins in his hair.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[holybibly]

The latest news, my sugar bunnies.

Unholy thoughts of the day: Seonghwa's oral fixation always gets worse before a concert, as his girlfriend you help him to relieve the tension.

"Seonghwa, baby, you have to… you have to get ready for the concert…" Your hot, wet breath fanned the soft, thin skin of his ear, sending shivers of excitement down his spine. "Can you hear me, baby?" But all your attempts to get through to him were completely useless because Seonghwa could barely concentrate on your words. And how could he, when you were fucking yourself deep and slow on his cock, with two of your fingers sliding sensually between his plump, wet lips, rubbing against his tongue and caressing the inside of his cheeks? Your rings clinked against his perfect, snow-white teeth as you pushed them deeper into his insatiable mouth, pressing the soft tips of your fingers to the back of his tongue. "It's… so good… I just need a little more…" That's all he can manage to get out. His velvety, pornographic voice is muffled by the wet sounds of drooling saliva and noisy swallowing as he speaks through your fingers. "Fuck my mouth, my beautiful star… Please… Fuck my mouth… ""Everything for you, Hwa."

Your fingers slip out of his mouth for a moment, all slick with spit and cherry lip balm, only for you to rub it all over his luscious, fuckable lips in a kinky, dirty caress. But Hwa doesn't care, he opens his mouth wider, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, as he thrusts his hips up so that the thick, swollen head of his cock presses right against your cervix. The hot, smooth walls of your cunt immediately tighten around the massive girth, holding it securely in a velvety grip and stimulating the bulging veins on his cock.

"Fuck, Hwa, just like that... You do it so well, the most beautiful boy ever".

Behind the closed door of the dressing room you can still hear the loud cheers of the fans who have come for the sound check and you wonder for the umpteenth time what they would say if they saw Seonghwa like this - needy, whiny and not afraid to beg for what he so desperately wants.

What would his fans say if they found out what a slut he really is?

Your fingers return to his mouth, and his long, soft tongue immediately begins to move diligently to wet your fingers with his saliva.

You grab his chin with your other hand and hold his head still so you can enjoy the fucked look on his beautiful, godlike face. With drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and his dark cat eyes unfocused and heavy, you can easily see how much he enjoys having your fingers in his mouth.

Seonghwa pulls in his cheeks and sucks hard on the tender appendages, his tongue moving fast and chaotically around your graceful fingers, reminding you of how his tongue used to dance in the same way between your labia, licking and rubbing the moist, sensitive folds of your needy little cunt as you swallowed his amazing cock deep down your throat in your favourite 69 this morning.

You begin to move on his cock again, noticing how Hwa's eyes glaze over, becoming nothing more than a smooth black mirror. He looks like he's in a daze. Drool drips from his luscious lips, his tongue lolls out as he tries to swallow your fingers.

His loud, whimpering moans come through your fingers, and you just push them deeper, making contact with the back of Seonghwa's throat, making him choke on both his saliva and your fingers.

But just as you're about to pull away, thinking that maybe things have gone too far, Hwa's teeth sink into your fingers and his lips close tightly around you, preventing you from pulling his treat from your mouth. His muscular thighs begin to move wildly, the fast pace hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your walls clench, fluttering around Seonghwa's cock.

He came before you, his whole body shaking and his eyes rolling back. Hwa is too stunned to notice that you're carefully pulling yourself away from his cock and instead start rubbing your swollen clit hard and fast to bring yourself to orgasm.

The sound of his name falling from your lips as you finally cum catches his attention, and Hwa smiles apologetically at you, looking away shyly.

"Sorry, angel, I didn't mean to..." Seonghwa squeezes out barely audibly, his voice getting huskier and lower.

You smile lovingly at him, kissing his rosy cheek lightly.

"It's okay, love, really. I don't mind helping my handsome boyfriend with his damn hot oral fixation. But I still expect you to fuck me senseless after the concert."

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[sloaneispunk]

“it’s all fun & games”

frontman!in-ho x you

a certain sweetheart in the game knows in-ho’s real identity, but will she care when in-ho feels the same way about her?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

“let’s go one round and introduce ourselves, it’s lame calling everyone by their numbers.” you chipped in excitedly, hand rest on the palm of your hands as you eyed in-ho.

he knew the game you were playing, you just wanted to see how long he could keep his identity concealed.

“i’m jung-bae.”

“i’m dae-ho.”

“my name’s jun-hee.”

“and i’m seong gi-hun.”

“i’m y/n and i guess that just leaves you.” you pointed to in-ho who was nervously looking down at the floor.

“i-i’m… young-il.” he said in a low voice.

“young-il!” you giggled, “hey, that matches your number! i wonder if it’s a coincidence!”

“ah, she’s right! 0-1, young-il!” junb-bae clapped his hands as the team laughed.

but in-ho couldn’t care less, he gave you a glare as you tirled a few strands of your hair between your fingers.

this was going to be fun.

even as big of a compromise as you were to his plan, in-ho found himself liking it. not only was it a challenge, but he got to see the cheeky, not-so innocent side of you that no one else could.

by now, he was almost a hundred percent positive that you knew exactly who he was, the frontman. but did he care? no. it was all fun and games, just a little tiny ruse of yours to keep him on his toes.

that night when everyone was tucked into their beds, getting ready to sleep, in-ho sneakily walked up to the side of your bed.

“can i help you?” you chirped, eyes doe-wided as you smiled at him. but he saw right through, you wsnted this to happen.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he gritted out, sitting down beside your bed.

“trying to sleep but some bozo won’t let me.” you scoffed playfully, laughung at your own joke while in-ho didn’t even crack a smile. “what do you want?”

“what do i want? i want you to stop whatever games you’re playing here.” he said sternly, “i don’t know how you figured it out, but they don’t know so keep it down!”

“can’t a girl have some fun?” you looked at him with a pout on your lips. “isn’t it more exciting for you this way, i know you like the thrill as much as i do.”

in-ho took a hold of your jacket, giving you no choice but to lean down towards him, face centermeters away from him as you felt his breath on your cheek.

“look, i don’t care that you have anything to do with the game, i really don’t!” you lifted your arms up subtly in surrender. “but i gotta say, you’re pretty hot for the frontman.”

“yeah? is this what you wanted? you just couldn’t help yourself, huh? you needed my attention?”

“maybe.” you shrugged, causing him to shake his head, chuckling in disbelief.

“you’re something else, y’know?”

“all for you.”

after that, you both went to bed. your mind was racing. was this really going to end well? maybe it was just a stupid crush you had on him, it didn’t really matter. but in-ho had other plans, he’s never met someone so sweet yet cunning at the same time. you had awoken a flame inside of him that he swore was already gone.

during breakfast the next day, you sat close to in-ho legs and arms touching as you got comfortable beside him.

“so what’s your real name?” you whispered to him as the others carried on with their conversation.

“you gonna tell anyone, you minx?” he teased, smiling down at you.

“i promise i won’t.”

“it’s in-ho.”

“in-ho, huh? that goes pretty well with y/n.”

he laughed out loud at your obvious flirting, making the others stop to look at you both.

“sorry.” you apologised to the team as they resumed their talk.

when it came to the ‘six-legged pentathlon’ game, you were paired with in-ho, gi-hun, jung-bae and dae-ho.

“oh, inh-i mean young-il, which game do you think you’ll be good at?” you asked, purposefully slipping up to get a rise out of him once more.

in-ho clenched his fist, he knew it was intentional.

“uh, spinning top, i suppose.” he replied.

“great!” you cheered as the game began.

when it came to your turn, everyone was at the brink of either puking or shitting themselves. yet somehow, you remained composed. in-ho took glances of you many times but he couldn’t figure out how you of all people were so calm.

little did he know, you already knew there was no way you would be able to fail these games. for god’s sake, you had the frontman here with you. and if you would’ve guessed? he wasn’t going to stand there and watch you get shot doen by the guards, you knew you already meant more to him than that.

as an act of revenge for your little ‘slip-up’ earlier, in-ho ensured to fail multiple times at his game, making the team even more so uneasy than they already were. he had to admit, it was satisfying to finally see some hints lf fear in your eyes as he failed.

but eventually, the team had made it out alive at the very last second. you let out a deep breath that you were subconsciously holding in.

“scared now?” a voice came from behind.

you whipped your head around, but was only met with the mischievous grin of in-ho.

“are you fuckin’ crazy?!” you practically yelled at him.

in-ho pulled you into the bathroom as the team continued to make their way to the room without you.

“will you shut up?” he scolded, holding you against the wall.

“you’re telling me you did that on purpose?!”

“wasn’t it ‘exciting’?” he mocked you from earlier, causing you to roll your eyes. “and you’re not so innocent too, calling me by my real name in front of everyone like that?”

“it’s my way of flirting.” you joked, snorting a laugh as he gently put you down.

“flirting?”

“yeah, can’t you tell?” you questioned. “and i think it’s starting to rub off on you too.”

you weren’t wrong. in-ho didn’t only find himself liking your cocky remarks more, but he started to copy them too.

“you’re a minx you know that?” he said.

“i know, and you love it.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

a/n: this is a lil twist on the sweetheart!reader x in-ho trope and i think it’s pretty cute! i’m still a sucker for lee byung hum, send help.

[gf2bellamy]

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

part 2

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the subtle softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious. 

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect. 

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit. 

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day. 

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder. 

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore. 

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way. 

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you. 

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something. 

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present. 

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out. 

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully. 

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom. 

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near. 

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you. 

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything. 

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities. 

You didn’t think you were enough for him. 

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you. 

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. 

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark. 

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open. 

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.” 

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you. 

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.” 

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.” 

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.” 

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.” 

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?” 

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in. 

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.” 

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak. 

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. 

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it. 

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.” 

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you. 

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.” 

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.” 

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. 

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest. 

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.” 

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.” 

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave. 

They stayed. 

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins? 

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear. 

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly. 

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved. 

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. 

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth. 

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought. 

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it. 

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much. 

Still, there were cracks in your resolve. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall. 

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air. 

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area—and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you. 

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you. 

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing. 

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.” 

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth. 

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.” 

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work. 

He let it go—for now. 

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the quiet hum of the TV did little to drown out your thoughts. 

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.  

Then came a knock at your door. 

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door. 

When you opened it, your breath caught. 

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady. 

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?” 

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind. 

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.” 

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air. 

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat. 

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. 

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade. 

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears. 

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response. 

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever. 

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain. 

“I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

[mr-mercutio]

I remember once I was at a T-shaped intersection, crossing on the right side of the T from top down. About a second into walking into the street, y'know - after waiting for the lights to change and the walk signal to come on, this guy revs up and pulls into the intersection, ready to turn right. Already breaking the law of course, pulling right into the street before I was all the way across. And then he leans out of his window and starts screaming at me to hurry up and get across the street.

I didn't even have the opportunity to check for this fucker to see if he was going to let me cross. Put aside that I had right of way and had waited for the lights to change, he hadn't even BEEN at the intersection, just came zipping down at me.

I didn't feel terrified until after the whole thing was done. In the moment I was just so angry because how dare he, honestly? How dare he come so close to being able to just murder me with his fucking truck and then get mad at ME because I'm slowing him down by a few seconds?

I was so mad that I actually stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and looked him dead in the eyes. And I wish this was the part of the story where I could say he looked ashamed of himself, where I could think maybe he learned something that day that would change how he drove or treated people. Maybe he looked back at me and realized how much power he held over my life in that moment and mouthed "sorry" at me.

But no, he just got more angry and leaned on his horn and called me a faggot. I must have been the worst part of his day, the way he was acting.

So I just gave him the finger and resumed crossing the street, albeit at a snail's pace because I'm a petty little bitch when I'm mad. And as soon as there was any clearance behind me he went zooming off, still screaming at me. I could see another driver waiting at the intersection, one who had a red light still, look absolutely horrified. I think she felt more shame as a driver than this guy did.

And seeing her face was when I felt scared. When the reality dawned on me of how easily I could have been killed in that moment just because I was an inconvenience to an asshole. I slowed him down for an extra 20 seconds, and he treated me like absolute trash. He could have killed me so easily. The only power I had in that moment was to make his day just a little bit worse by extending the inconvenience a few more seconds. And I took that power gleefully in the moment, but I really shouldn't have. I should have just crossed the street because what if he did decide then to run me over? I would love to say that even this douchebag supreme wouldn't be that bad, but honestly? How could I know? If he was that willing to fly off the handle with zero provocation, I shouldn't have trusted that he wouldn't run me down for slowing down and giving him the finger. But taking the tiny bit of power I had in that moment felt really good and necessary in the heat of the moment.

I dunno, I don't have a good lesson here. I don't regret it in the slightest but I do also think it wasn't the safe thing to do. It wasn't worth the risk of dying in that moment.

Some people have no concept of the power they hold. This story is far and away not the only time I feel like I've come close to being killed by drivers who were stupid, angry, mean, or just plain not paying attention. I wish more people would remember that they're piloting a killing machine at high velocity and I'm just a little fleshbag out in the open air. I have to be so careful, and it makes me a bit bitter to watch the drivers who blithely zoom around and forget to stop or slow down or check for pedestrians like me.

Nothing exposes the inability of people to navigate power imbalances quite like the relationship between drivers and pedestrians.

For example, I just had a driver get screaming-at-me mad because I stopped walking at a slip lane to make sure he was going to stop. And like, buddy, I know I have the right of way, but if I assume you are going to stop and I guess wrong, I will literally die. Whereas if I wait to see if you're actually going to slow down, I am just delaying both of us by a couple of seconds. And that might have more to do with why I made the choice that I did than my being a stupid bitch who needs to learn the rules. Like, if you can't understand why the fact that you could effortlessly accidentally kill me (and likely face no consequences) means I am reticent to assume the best from you, maybe you just shouldn't have any power over anyone ever.

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT

paige x azzk

warnings: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 14.9k

A/N: Alright this combined like a hundred prompts ngl 😭 so i’m so sorry if it’s a little all over the place but I think it’s pretty ok. It’s definitely not as toxic as some of you wanted but it’s still there 🫣. Let me know what you think and leave like reacts if you can! Happy game day!!

—————————————————————————

Azzi hadn’t thought much about how far she and Amber had drifted until recently. They’d been together since her junior year of high school, the perfect couple that everyone envied. Amber was there for every game, every late-night phone call about college recruitment, and every post-game celebratory hug. When they both got into UConn, and Amber told Azzi she was going to go with her, Azzi thought it was a sign—proof that they were meant to keep building their lives together.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. Amber was preoccupied with her own career goals, diving headfirst into internships, networking events, and her demanding course load. What used to be excitement about Azzi’s basketball career had faded into indifference and a lot of times, criticism.

“You’re stressing too much over practice,” Amber had said a few weeks ago when Azzi mentioned staying late to work on her shot. “It’s just basketball. A literal game. You’re already starting anyway, just come help me study.”

It was little comments like that, each one slicing a bit deeper than the last, that made Azzi feel like Amber didn’t really understand what this meant to her. What this meant for her career. Basketball wasn’t just a sport or a game, it was Azzi’s entire livelihood, her entire future.

That’s when Paige came into the picture.

Azzi didn’t expect to find comfort in Paige—at least not at first. Paige was composed in a way that made her seem untouchable, like she had the entire world figured out. As the face of the team, Paige carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her magnetic, always pulling people into her orbit naturally, whether she was in the locker room, on the court, or just walking across campus. People noticed her and they wanted to be noticed by her.

But Paige wasn’t just a star. She noticed things, little things, like how Azzi’s shooting percentages dipped slightly during stressful weeks or how her shoulders would slump after a particularly bad day. Paige stepped in without making a big show of it, offering help that felt more like a genuine friendship than obligation.

“You good, freshie?” Paige would always ask after practice, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she lingered by Azzi’s side. The question was always casual, but her tone portrayed something genuine—something that told Azzi she didn’t have to be fine if she wasn’t because Paige was genuinely asking about her well being.

It started with extra shooting sessions after practice. Paige would stay behind, helping Azzi find her rhythm again when her mechanics felt off.

“Don’t force it,” Paige would say, gently adjusting Azzi’s elbow. “You’re one of the best shooters in the world. You know the motion. Just let it flow naturally.”

Azzi felt like she could let her guard down around Paige. There was never any judgment, no criticism—just unwavering support. And when practice was over and the rest of the team had left, Paige didn’t rush off either.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Paige asked one day after they’d spent an hour running through plays together.

Azzi hesitated, but Paige’s smile was disarming. “My treat. Call it payment for all the extra work I’ve been putting you through.”

They ended up at a nearby diner, talking about everything from basketball to their childhood and dreams. Paige was funny and unfiltered in a way that made Azzi laugh harder than she had in her entire life.

…

What started as casual basketball texts here and there quickly turned into long, rambling late-night conversations. Paige had a way of keeping Azzi on her phone for hours, their texts bouncing from lighthearted banter to deeply personal confessions every night.

11:34 PM

Freshie: I swear Geno’s trying to kill me with all these plays. My brain is mush

Paige: Mush isn’t good. Should I start bringing you flashcards?

Freshie: Flashcards? Really?

Paige: I’m trying to be supportive here Azzi. Don’t knock it till you try it

Freshie: Fine. But if I mess up this week, it’s on you

Paige: Deal. But you won’t

12:52 AM

Freshie: Okay, real question this time. Did you always know basketball would be your life?

Paige: I pretty much knew the moment I picked up a ball. Why?

Freshie: I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’m just losing myself in it. Like… is this all I’m good for? Dribbling an orange ball lol.

Paige: You’re not just “good” for it. You’re great at it. But you know you’re more than that too. You just have too much going on to see it right now.

2:14 AM

Freshie: Do you ever feel like you’re failing at everything outside of basketball?

Paige: Lol every day.

Freshie: How do you deal with it?

Paige: I remind myself why I started. And then I text you and distract myself with your constant overthinking or rambling

Freshie: So I’m a distraction now?

Paige: Yeah, but a cute one so it’s ok

Azzi stared at the text longer than she should have, biting her lip before replying. Whenever Paige flirted it was always subtle, just enough to make Azzi’s heart pick up, but not so much that she couldn’t dismiss them as harmless jokes.

By the time Azzi finally fell asleep, her phone still clutched in her hand, Paige’s words about basketball echoing in her mind.

…

The first time Azzi showed up at Paige’s dorm late at night, it wasn’t planned. She and Amber had just had one of their worst arguments yet—Amber accusing Azzi of putting a “stupid game” above their relationship, and Azzi firing back that Amber didn’t even try to understand what she was going through before it ended in a shouting match and Azzi leaving her own room.

Paige opened the door in sweats and a hoodie, her hair still wet from the shower she just took.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Azzi nodded, even though her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She dropped onto Paige’s bed without waiting for an invitation, staring at the ceiling.

Paige didn’t press much. Just handed Azzi a bottle of water and laid beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

“Girl troubles?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “She just… doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me anymore. It’s tiring”

Paige hesitated, then looked over at Azzi saying. “For what it’s worth, I get you. And there’s these ten other girls known as our teammates that get you. So I promise you’re not as alone as you think.”

The words hung in the air for some time, heavy with something Azzi couldn’t name but felt deep in her chest as she laid there with Paige.

After some time passed, Paige, wanting to cheer Azzi up, let out a dramatic grumble as she sat up. “Alright, fine. We can watch Frozen,” she said.

Azzi laughed instantly as she grabbed a nearby pillow and tossed it at Paige.

Paige caught the pillow midair with ease, narrowing her eyes playfully as she held it up. “Don’t be rude,” she deadpanned, throwing the pillow back on the bed before turning toward the dresser for the remote.

When she turned back around, she caught Azzi pouting, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically. Paige froze for a second before shaking her head, chuckling softly. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Azzi’s pout turned into a grin as Paige climbed back into bed, remote in hand. Their shoulders brushed as Paige settled beside her, pretending to scroll through the streaming options with exaggerated effort. “Happy now?” Paige asked.

“Very,” Azzi said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side, her smile lingering as she watched Paige pretend to grumble under her breath.

…

This became a pattern. The more drifted from Amber, the more they argued and Amber hurled insults at Azzi. The closer she found herself to Paige. They started spending more time together outside of practice whenever they could. Paige would go to Azzi’s room to watch movies, always teasing her about her terrible taste in romcoms. Azzi would show up at Paige’s room whenever she wanted, sinking into Paige’s beanbag chair as they talked endlessly.

There was a lightness to being with Paige that Azzi hadn’t felt in a long time. Amber always seemed to expect something from her—more time, more effort, more of herself. But Paige just… let her be.

…

For Paige, the shift came suddenly and without warning. She didn’t realize how deep her feelings ran until one night when Azzi showed up at her door after another fight with Amber.

Azzi’s eyes were puffy, her hair a mess, but Paige thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“What happened?” Paige asked, ushering her in.

Azzi shook her head, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s the same thing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”

Paige sat beside her, not saying anything at first. She just listened as Azzi vented, her words tumbling out in frustration.

“You’re amazing, Azzi,” Paige said softly when she finished. “If Amber can’t see that… it’s her loss.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them heavy with something unspoken.

That night, as Azzi curled up in Paige’s bed and drifted off to sleep, Paige lay awake, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the truth: she was in love with Azzi.

…

For Azzi, the realization crept in slowly but hit her all at once. It wasn’t until she caught Paige looking at her during practice—really looking at her, with those dark, intent eyes—that she felt it.

Paige wanted her.

And the moment Azzi’s brain registered that, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting Paige too. It wasn’t just the way Paige made her feel seen, or the way her presence steadied Azzi in a way Amber never could. It was everything about her—the quiet strength, the soft encouragement, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile whenever Azzi said something sarcastic.

But she was still with Amber.

The guilt gnawed at her, but it didn’t stop her from staying up late to text Paige, or from seeking her out after practice, or from craving the way Paige made her feel. It was wrong, and messy, and complicated, but Azzi couldn’t help herself.

And the more Paige let her feelings slip—through lingering touches, teasing words, and the way her eyes softened whenever they were alone—the harder it was for Azzi to pull away.

The First Slip Up

It was supposed to be a fun, carefree night—a random house party off campus that some of the team decided to attend. Azzi hadn’t been in the mood to go, not really, but Amber insisted. She liked these kinds of things, the big crowds, the chance to “network” with people Azzi didn’t care to meet. And maybe Azzi would’ve said no, but Amber had a way of making her feel guilty for turning things down.

“Bruh come on, Azzi,” Amber said with a heavy sigh as they were getting ready. “You literally never wanna do anything I wanna do. You can’t just be about basketball all the time.”

So Azzi went, pulling on a long-sleeve shirt she hoped would keep her warm in the brisk Connecticut air as Amber rushed her out of the door.

By the time they approached the house, the coldness of the evening had already sunk into her bones. Azzi hugged her arms tightly against herself, glancing sideways at Amber who had on two sweaters.

“I’m freezing,” Azzi said, hoping Amber might offer a solution.

Amber glanced at her briefly, shrugging. “You should’ve brought a jacket.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was dismissive, like the problem was Azzi’s and not something Amber needed to worry about.

Azzi’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t push the issue, not wanting to argue anymore tonight. They stepped inside and the music was loud and the air was warmer than outside. Before Azzi could say anything, Amber spotted a group of girls she knew and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a glance.

Azzi exhaled and scanned the room looking for the team knowing at least one of them would stand out.

When she spotted Paige near the kitchen, surrounded by a few of their teammates, something in her chest loosened. Paige stood out in any room she was in, tall and composed, carrying herself with a natural ease that made people gravitate toward her. When Azzi made her way over, Paige looked up immediately, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Azzi feel like the only person in the room.

“Heyy, there’s the freshie,” Paige teased, her smile widening as Azzi came closer. But then her expression changed, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head. “You cold?”

Azzi blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’re shivering like crazy,” Paige said simply.

“No, I’ll be fine soon,” Azzi protested quickly, though her body betrayed her as another shiver ran through her.

Paige didn’t argue. She just pulled off her jacket—a soft, worn-in zip up that smelled like her soap and shampoo—and handed it to Azzi.

“Here,” Paige said, holding it out.

“Paige, you don’t have to—”

“Azzi,” Paige interrupted, “just take it.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before reluctantly slipping it on. It was warm, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands that were still freezing, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Paige grinned, satisfied.

But even with the jacket, the chill didn’t seem to fully leave Azzi’s body yet. Paige must’ve noticed, because before Azzi could protest, Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

The hug was casual enough on the surface—just a friend warming up another friend—but it felt like more. Paige’s hands rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s back and Azzi felt herself relax against her. Her head tipped slightly, resting on Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the party faded into the background.

“You’re freezing. You need to put on a jacket next time,” Paige murmured, her breath warm against Azzi’s hair.

“Amber was rushing me so I couldn’t,” Azzi said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Paige stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. Her hands kept moving, rubbing against Azzi’s back to warm her up, and after a moment, she spoke.

“Well,” Paige said, her voice soft but edged with something Azzi couldn’t quite place, “you have mine now so you’ll be fine.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Paige, and the way Paige was looking at her—it made Azzi’s breath catch. There was something unspoken in Paige’s gaze, something Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered

Paige smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

The moment passed quickly—someone yelling Paige’s name from across the room, and she stepped away, though not before giving Azzi’s arm a quick squeeze and saying “I’ll find you later.”

Azzi wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t like how it dulled her mind or left her body sluggish, but tonight, after Amber’s repeated dismissals and her own growing frustration, she’d let herself indulge a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Amber hadn’t noticed.

Azzi sighed again, watching as Amber laughed with a group of girls across the room. She had tried to hang around her girlfriend, to ease the tension that had settled between them for a while. Slipping her hand into Amber’s or leaning close during the conversation. But each time, Amber had pulled away or brushed her off.

“Azzi, not right now,” Amber said at one point with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “I’m trying to talk to them. You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

The words stung more than Azzi cared to admit, and she found herself retreating, stepping back as Amber turned her attention fully to her friends.

She sighed again, deciding to walk away. But the house was packed, bodies pressed together in every corner, and Azzi quickly found herself a little stuck, barely able to navigate through the crowded room.

That’s when she felt a steady, warm hand resting lightly on her back.

“You good?” Paige’s familiar voice cut through the loud noise.

Azzi turned her head slightly, relief flooding through her as she saw Paige beside her. She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

“Come on,” Paige said simply. As she guided Azzi with ease, her hand never left Azzi’s back as they weaved through the chaos. Paige moved like she was born to lead, her presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly, and Azzi found herself leaning into it, letting Paige take control.

When they finally emerged into a quieter corner of the house, Paige spotted an open spot on the couch and steered them toward it. They sank into the cushions together, and Azzi felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“You good?” Paige asked again, her eyes scanning Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for... that. It was getting a little overwhelming in there.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Paige said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You looked like you were about to elbow somebody out of the way.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I was definitely close,” she admitted.

They settled into their usual rhythm easily, the conversation flowing like it always did. They talked about everything and nothing. Azzi found herself laughing more than she had all night, the tension in her chest easing with every word. Paige had a way of making her forget everything else going on in her head, of making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At one point, someone came over to talk to Paige, pulling her attention away for a moment. Azzi instinctively shifted, as she was about to get up to give Paige space and go talk to the rest of the team, but Paige’s arm shot out, draping casually over the back of the couch, her hand resting near Azzi’s shoulder.

“Stay,” Paige said, glancing at her. The word wasn’t a command, but it held weight, a quiet reassurance that Paige didn’t want her to go anywhere.

Azzi froze for a moment, the warmth of Paige’s arm so close making her chest tighten. She nodded, staying right where she was, even as Paige turned to answer the person who’d approached.

When the conversation ended, Paige turned back to Azzi, a small grin on her face. “You need anything? Water? Soda? Something stronger?”

Azzi hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Water’s fine,” she said, grateful Paige even thought to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige said, standing and weaving her way through the room towards the kitchen.

Azzi watched her go, the space beside her feeling oddly empty without Paige there. She fiddled with the hem of Paige’s sweater, her mind wandering back to Amber—wherever she was in this house—and the sharp contrast between her and Paige.

When Paige came back, she handed Azzi a bottle of water before settling back on the couch, her body angled slightly toward Azzi.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, cracking the bottle open and taking a sip.

“No problem.” Paige studied her for a moment before tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re over this party.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not really my scene honestly,” she admitted. “Too loud. Too crowded. I don’t know half the people here, and the one person I came with...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t press her for more. Instead, she just sat there as she thought for a moment. Then, as if deciding something, she turned back to Azzi and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” Paige said.

Azzi blinked, looking down at Paige’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Paige said simply, her fingers wiggling slightly as if to prompt Azzi to take her hand.

Azzi hesitated for a moment longer before setting the water bottle down on the floor and slipping her hand into Paige’s. Paige’s fingers interlaced with hers immediately, her grip warm as she tugged Azzi up from the couch.

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked.

Paige glanced at her with a small smile, her hand still holding Azzi’s tightly. “Somewhere better,” she said.

Azzi followed her without question, though her mind buzzed with curiosity. Paige led her through the crowded house, their intertwined hands drawing a few curious glances but nothing that lingered for two long. They climbed a narrow staircase, Azzi stumbling slightly on the last step, but Paige steadied her with a soft laugh, her hand tightening around Azzi’s.

When they reached the top, Paige guided her down a hallway and pushed open a door. Azzi blinked in surprise as the cool night air hit her face. They were on a small outdoor balcony, completely empty and tucked away from the noise and chaos of the party below. String lights hung lazily along the edge of the railing, casting a warm glow over the space.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The air was crisp but refreshing, and she was still warm from the drinks and the faint buzz of Paige’s presence. Paige’s jacket hung loosely around her shoulders, and though the cold nipped at her face, she didn’t mind.

Paige let go of her hand but didn’t step far, turning to lean her back against the railing and taking in the view. “Better, right?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the party below.

Azzi nodded, moving to the railing and resting her forearms on it. “Yeah. Way better,” she murmured, looking out at the dark yard below. She felt Paige’s eyes on her but didn’t turn, letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Paige said after a beat.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You noticed?”

Paige scoffed softly, shifting to face her fully. “Of course I noticed, I’m me. Plus you’re not exactly the type to fade into the background but it feels like you kinda just been drifting tonight. Not as confident as usual.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers playing with the hem of the jacket. “I don’t know. I guess... this just isn’t my scene,” she admitted. “I came because Amber wanted to….” She trailed off, shrugging slightly.

Paige’s gaze hardened a little, her jaw tightening at the mention of Amber, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” Paige said.

Azzi finally turned to look at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. There was something about the way Paige was looking at her—intense but soft, like she was seeing every piece of her. It made Azzi’s stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You are?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Paige said, stepping closer now. Her voice dropped slightly.. “You’re the only one worth talking to here.”

Azzi’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she swallowed hard, glancing away briefly to compose herself. When she looked back, Paige had moved closer, so close that Azzi could feel the faint warmth radiating from her despite the cool night air.

Azzi leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the edge lightly as she tilted her head to look at Paige. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes giving away something deeper.

Paige arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Me? Sweet? Who would’ve guessed.”

Azzi smiled, her confidence sparking to life in the safety of their banter. “You make everything seem so effortless,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured, her tone quieter now..

The space between them felt incredibly small, and Azzi wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way Paige was looking at her, but she felt a pull, an ache between her legs that was as exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Paige leaned in slightly, her hands coming to rest on the railing on both sides of Azzi, effectively boxing her in. She wasn’t touching her, not quite, but the proximity sent a shiver through Azzi’s body.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Yeah. Your jacket’s helping,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to Azzi’s face. “Good,” she said, her voice a little rougher now, her gaze holding Azzi’s.

For a moment, the noise of the party below faded completely, and it was just them, the night air, and the soft glow of the lights. Azzi felt her resolve slipping, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her face inches from Azzi’s now. “You’ve got that look again,” Paige said softly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“What look?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” Paige teased.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe I am,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile softened, and she reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “Don’t,” she said simply.

Azzi didn’t know how to respond or how to react, so she didn’t. She just held Paige’s gaze, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the soft hum of the night enveloping them.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Paige’s brow furrowed slightly, and she smiled softly. “For what?”

Azzi hesitated for a second, her eyes flickering down to the jacket she was still wearing, then back to Paige’s face. “For everything,” she said simply, her tone almost vulnerable.

Paige’s expression softened even further, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Don’t mention it.”

She raised her red cup to her lips, intending to finish off the rest of the drink, but before she could finish it completely, Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Can I have some?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, holding the cup out toward her. “You can kill the rest,” she said casually, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she handed it over.

Azzi took the cup, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she tipped it back, finishing the drink in a few quick swallows. The warmth from the alcohol spread through her chest, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the warmth radiating from Paige, who stood just inches away. Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing behind her.

Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before she turned back to face Paige. She hadn’t realized how close Paige had gotten, her arms still braced on either side of the railing.

“You look good in my jacket,” Paige said, the compliment coming out smoothly. Her eyes scanned Azzi, lingering for just a second longer than they probably should have as she took her in.

Azzi felt a blush creep up her neck, but she masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah? Guess I’m doing you a favor, making it look better.”

Paige smirked, her hand sliding casually to rest on Azzi’s hip, her touch light but deliberate. “Exactly,” she murmured, tilting her head as her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You make it look better.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Paige’s hand on her or the way Paige was looking at her, like she was undressing her with her eyes. “You’re bold tonight,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her thumb brushing over the fabric of the jacket. “Just telling the truth,” she said. “You look... really pretty tonight, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Paige’s tone. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Paige said it made her feel different. “You’ve had a few drinks,” Azzi said lightly, trying to deflect.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it gorgeous.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She should’ve stepped back, should’ve said something to lighten the moment, but instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, her body betraying her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand still resting on Azzi’s hip as her gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. “Only if you want me to be,” she replied.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. “You’re too good for that,” she said softly.

Paige leaned in just a little closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased, “What do you mean?”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off, but the moment felt too heavy to laugh it off. “You’re a good person Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softening at the admission.

Paige smiled, a slow, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. “I am,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, her heart beating just a little faster as she glanced at Paige, the warmth from their closeness making her skin tingle. “So you’re not going to let me cheat tonight,” Azzi murmured, a little unsure why the words slipped out.

Paige didn’t pull away, though. Her hand remained on Azzi’s hip, her body still close enough that Azzi could feel the heat radiating between them. She just looked at Azzi for a beat too long, her eyes locked onto hers, saying nothing.

For a second, everything hung in the balance. Azzi felt herself holding her breath, her body unsure of what to do next. But before she could make up her mind, a voice interrupted the moment.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unmistakable—clear, direct, and too familiar. Azzi’s stomach dropped as she turned her head slightly, glancing over Paige’s shoulder.

Amber stood a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. The discomfort was clear, but at that moment, Azzi didn’t jerk away. She didn’t pull back.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, holding Paige’s gaze. For a heartbeat, she let herself savor the closeness, the pull of something real between her and Paige. Then, she finally glanced back at Amber—seeing the look on her face—and it hit Azzi with a quiet, unsettling clarity.

This was probably when Azzi should’ve ended things with Amber. The realization hit her harder than she expected, but it didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the truth.

Azzi didn’t break the moment quickly, though. Instead, she smiled softly at Paige, a small, genuine smile that conveyed more than words ever could. Paige’s expression softened in response, her eyes warm with something almost like understanding, even though she said nothing.

Azzi pushed gently against Paige’s waist, a quiet movement that separated them just enough to give her space to breathe. “I should go,” Azzi said, her voice soft but steady, as she stepped away from the railing.

Paige smiled at her, a gentle, almost wistful curve of her lips. “Get home safe, Azzi,” she said, her voice carrying an underlying warmth.

Azzi returned the smile. “I’ll text you,” she murmured, before turning toward the hallway. She couldn’t quite look back, not with that lingering tension between them.

As Azzi made her way down the stairs, she noticed Amber already ahead of her, walking with purpose, the distance between them increasing by the second. Azzi’s steps purposely slowed, her mind still racing with everything that had just happened—what she had almost let happen.

When they finally stepped outside, the crisp night air hit her, making her pull Paige’s jacket closer around herself. Amber, who had been silent up until now, suddenly stopped walking and turned sharply to face Azzi, her jaw set.

“What the hell was that?” Amber’s voice was low but heated, frustration clear in every word.

Azzi blinked at her, not breaking her stride as she pulled the zipper on the jacket higher, securing it snugly against the cold. “Nothing,” she said flatly, keeping her tone calm.

Amber’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, her brow furrowing as if noticing it for the first time. “Whose jacket is that?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi replied, her eyes focused ahead as she kept walking.

“It does matter,” Amber shot back, quickening her steps to keep up with her. “You’ve got some random person’s jacket on like it’s normal or something.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, the sound humorless. She finally glanced at Amber, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s literally a jacket, Amber. You’re being childish.”

Amber stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stared after Azzi. “Childish?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You’re walking around in someone else’s clothes, and I’m supposed to just ignore that?!”

Azzi sighed, exasperated, as she turned around to face her. “It’s really not that deep. I was cold and you wouldn’t give me yours so…”

Amber’s face twisted in disbelief, her frustration clear, but Azzi didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She turned back around, her hands burying themselves in the jacket’s pockets, and started walking toward the dorms again, leaving Amber standing there in silence.

The Second Slip Up

The night at Ted’s was supposed to be a break—a chance for everyone to unwind after a long stretch of games and practice. The team had been looking forward to it all week, and Azzi, too, had been excited to just let loose for a while. But everything had been sour before she even left. Her argument with Amber had been heated—one that nearly turned into a screaming match—but it was the same pattern as always. Amber had wanted Azzi to drop everything and come to the DMV for a week, something about an interview, but Azzi told her she couldn’t just throw her responsibilities aside. She had two games, practices, and meetings. Amber didn’t understand, once again insulting Azzi and it led to another fight.

Still, despite the tension, Azzi wanted to go out. Amber, always aggressive when she didn’t get her way, was all over Azzi the moment they walked into Ted’s even though Azzi wasn’t interested. She tried to pull Azzi into a dance, dragging her by the hand, her lips kissing at Azzi’s neck, whispering promises Azzi wasn’t sure she could still believe in.

Paige, on the other hand, was across the room, surrounded by a few of the girls from the team, laughing and “dancing” with a random girl who was at the bar. Azzi tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest when her eyes found Paige's across the crowded room. She couldn’t help herself—there was something magnetic about her, something that called to Azzi even from a distance.

The moment they locked eyes, Azzi felt everything inside her still. Amber’s hand was on her waist, pulling her into the chaotic rhythm of the music, but Azzi wasn’t moving, she couldn’t focus on anything except the way Paige was looking at her. Her usually bright blue eyes were darker than usual, her gaze intense as she sipped her drink, not blinking, as if she were daring Azzi to look away first. And for a moment, Azzi forgot how to breathe.

The world seemed to slow down. Amber was still murmuring into Azzi's ear, but Azzi couldn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out by the music and the rapid beat of her heart. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Paige. It felt like a secret shared between them, even though they hadn’t said a word.

Paige’s gaze never wavered, and Azzi could feel everything between them, like the entire room had been reduced to just the two of them. Amber, oblivious to the tension building, continued to cling to Azzi, her whispers falling on deaf ears. Azzi barely even registered what Amber was saying.

Azzi’s chest tightened as the girl dancing on Paige didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body grinding against Paige's as she ran her acrylics slowly down Paige's jaw, tracing the curve of her face and lips. Azzi watched the movement, her stomach twisting as Paige barely reacted. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, unmoving, unblinking, as if nothing else in the room mattered, not even the girl trying to press herself closer to Paige.

Azzi could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the possessiveness bubbling inside her, even though she had no right to feel it. Amber's hand was still on Azzi's waist, trying to pull her into the rhythm of the music, but Azzi couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while Paige’s gaze was still locked on her.

The girl on Paige’s body kept dancing, but Paige’s focus was unwavering. Paige smirked slightly as the girl's hands ran over her neck, as if she knew Azzi wouldn’t like it. Still, her eyes never leave Azzi’s.

It was like a silent challenge, a dare to Azzi to make a move, to step in and claim what could be hers, but Azzi was frozen. She was stuck, caught between the familiarity of Amber and the pull she felt toward Paige, the way Paige's eyes seemed to tug at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

Amber, noticing Azzi's lingering stare, tugged her closer, leaning into her ear. “Babyyy, you’re not even paying attention,” she said, but Azzi still barely heard her. All she could focus on was the way Paige’s gaze had deepened, how there was something raw and magnetic about the way she looked at her.

As Paige slowly took another sip from her drink, Azzi noticed how the girl's hand slid down Paige's side to her hips, and for a brief moment, Azzi wanted to rip her hand off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was still stuck in Amber’s grip, still trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Amber's voice cut through the haze, and Azzi blinked, tearing her eyes away from Paige to look at Amber, but the heat between her and Paige still lingered, like a flame Azzi couldn’t put out.

…

Azzi hadn’t planned on doing anything that night. She was determined to be respectful, to keep her distance from Paige and stay respectful to her relationship, like she always had. She’d made up her mind to stay out of the way, to avoid any of the tension that had been building between her and Paige. She thought if she could just make it through tonight without any issues, everything would be fine. But then after a few drinks Amber had to go and make everything complicated.

Amber wasn’t just rude that night. She was worse—she was dismissive, condescending, and cruel in a way Azzi hadn’t seen in a long time. It was though all the frustrations Amber had been bottling up for weeks finally exploded, and Azzi was the target. Amber fully snapped at Azzi when she pushed her off gently and tried to suggest they grab a drink instead of dancing. She accused Azzi of ignoring her all night, accused her of being self-absorbed, accusing her of not wasting her time playing a game rather than trying to better their relationship and so much more.. Each comment felt like a jab, cutting deeper than the last.

Azzi tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the alcohol or a bad mood, but it didn’t stop. Amber’s insults, her passive-aggressive remarks, and the way she treated Azzi like she was nothing more than an accessory to her life—it all piled up.

The quiet argument had escalated quickly, spiraling out of control before Azzi even had a chance to process it. “Call me when you’re done being so fucking self-centered,” Amber spat. She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out of Ted’s.

Azzi stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind Amber. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, she honestly didn’t feel bad about it. The tension in her chest loosened as she turned back to the team, who, like her, were already a few drinks in, their mood carefree and light. It was easy to slip back into their energy, letting the music and laughter fill the space Amber had left.

The drinks flowed freely, and with each one, Azzi felt herself relax more. She didn’t have to force anything; the team’s energy was infectious, and before long, she found herself genuinely enjoying everything. Paige was initially on the other side of the room, laughing with Evina and Olivia, but like a magnet, they naturally drifted toward each other. Neither of them said anything as their proximity closed; it was unspoken, almost instinctual, like gravity pulling them together.

Paige didn’t even realize how close she had gotten until Azzi reached out, her hand finding Paige’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. The tug wasn’t rushed or eager—it was simple and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t hesitate. She let herself fall into the moment, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist as the music guided them.

They started swaying to the beat, bodies pressed together as neither one of them said anything. Paige’s arms tightened slightly around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Their movements grew more fluid as Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder, her hands coming together to rest on her head. Neither spoke a word, but their silence was filled with a quiet understanding, the tension between them growing.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips, and Paige caught the movement, making her instinctually lick them. The air between them continues to grow heavier, their gazes dancing between each other’s lips and eyes, silently asking questions neither of them said out loud.

Azzi, trying her best to keep her composure, let her head dip down, resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder. Her breath fanning across Paige’s neck, the simple warmth of it making Paige clench her jaw. Azzi’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Paige’s skin, not quite touching but close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of them. Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on Azzi’s waist, her own breaths shallow as she tried to steady herself.

Their dancing grew needier, the space between them nonexistent. It wasn’t just the physical closeness; it was the way they seemed to be silently communicating through every glance, every brush of skin. Paige closed her eyes for a brief moment, soaking in the sensation, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Azzi could hear it.

Without warning, Azzi crossed the line between hovering and touching.

Her lips ghosted over Paige’s neck, softly. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed—just featherlight kisses that sent sparks racing through Paige’s veins. Paige sighed audibly, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hips reflexively, grounding herself so she didn’t lose it entirely in the middle of the bar.

Azzi noticed the way Paige’s body tensed under her touch, and it only fueled her. As she let her lips linger a moment longer, the pressure slightly firmer now in a few spots, before pulling back just enough to murmur into Paige’s ear.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

Paige’s eyes opened, her grip on Azzi’s waist faltering as her heart raced. Before she could respond, Azzi was already stepping back, her touch slipping away like sand through Paige’s fingers.

Azzi didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom. Paige stood there for a moment, frozen, the ghost of Azzi’s touch and the warmth of her lips still lingering on her skin.

The music continued around her, the chatter and laughter of the team and other patrons filling the space, but it all felt distant now. Paige’s focus was entirely on the retreating figure of Azzi, her heart pounding as she weighed her next move.

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost involuntary smirk as she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. There was no real decision to make—her body had already made it for her. With one last glance around the bar, Paige slipped through the crowd, following the same path Azzi had taken moments earlier.

When Paige stepped into the dimly lit bathroom, her gaze locked onto Azzi, who was leaning casually against the sink. Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t say a word as she turned and locked the door behind her with a click, the sound echoing in the space. Her hand lingered on the lock for a second longer than necessary, steadying herself as she exhaled, before slowly facing Azzi again.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s smirk faltered slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she studied Paige’s expression. It wasn’t playful or hesitant—Paige’s eyes burned with something Azzi couldn’t place, her chest rising and falling as though she was barely holding herself back.

The silence was broken when Azzi took two quick steps forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Without warning, her hands gripped the front of Paige’s shirt, pushing her back until Paige’s shoulders hit the cool wall with a thud. Azzi’s lips were on hers immediately, the kiss urgent and messy, tongues battling one another as they fought for control.

Paige’s hands instinctively went to Azzi’s waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as she pulled her even closer. Azzi pressed against her fully, her grip tightening on Paige’s shirt, but it was clear neither one of them was willing to give up control.

Then, in a quick movement that left Azzi momentarily stunned, Paige flipped their positions, slamming Azzi’s back against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Azzi’s head tilted back slightly from the impact, her lips parting in surprise, but her body instantly responded to the dominance radiating from Paige.

The heat coursed through Azzi, her breath hitching as she met Paige’s gaze. No one had ever handled her like this before—there was a certainty, a confidence in Paige’s actions that excited Azzi.

Paige didn’t give her much time to process, her lips crashing back onto Azzi’s with the same fervor as before. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body against Azzi’s, pinning her to the wall. Azzi let out a soft moan against Paige’s lips, her own hands tangling in Paige’s hair as she pulled her even closer, the world outside that bathroom disappearing entirely.

The two of them stayed locked in that rhythm, bodies pressed impossibly close, lips and hands moving with an urgency that neither seemed able—or willing—to control. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hips remained firm, holding her in place every time Azzi tried to shift, a silent but undeniable reflection of her dominance.

As their kisses deepened, Paige’s lips began trailing down Azzi’s jaw. She kissed and sucked softly along the curve, her movements careful not to leave any marks. Azzi’s head tilted instinctively, giving Paige better access even as her mind began to catch up to her body.

The thought of Paige leaving marks on her skin—of something so visible, so undeniably real—triggered a sudden flicker of realization. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the pull of Paige’s lips, her touch, her everything.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain, her resolve faltering even as the word left her lips. Paige didn’t seem to hear her—or maybe she did and thought Azzi was whispering her name for other reasons—because she continued, her lips sucking against the sensitive spot just below Azzi’s ear, drawing a sharp inhale from her.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, pulling every ounce of willpower she could muster. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath and whispered more firmly, “Paige stop.” She gently pushed at Paige’s shoulders, just enough to create a space between them.

Paige stilled immediately, her hands falling away from Azzi’s hips, her hazy eyes snapping up to meet Azzi’s. The awe and unfiltered admiration written across Paige’s face made Azzi’s chest ache, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t,” Azzi said softly, the words catching in her throat as her hands lingered on Paige’s shoulders, not wanting to completely let go yet.

Pain flickered in Paige’s eyes briefly but she quickly masked it as she reached out, her hand gently cupping Azzi’s cheek slowly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, forcing her voice to sound understanding.

“I…Um... I should go,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely audible over the thundering in her chest. She turned to leave, but Paige’s voice stopped her.

“Get home safe Az,” Paige said softly.

Azzi didn’t turn back as she walked out, her mind a storm of emotions, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She couldn’t look at Paige again. Not right now.

…

Later that night Azzi finally mustered the courage to go talk to Paige. She needed to explain, or at least some kind of resolution to everything swirling between them. The night’s events—especially the kiss in the bathroom—kept replaying in her mind, and she couldn't get rid of the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t just let things sit unresolved between them. But she didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on Paige’s dorm door.

As she walked down the hall toward Paige’s room, Azzi felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hand hovered over the door, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But before she could knock, she heard something from inside Paige’s room—a sound that made her blood run cold.

“Paige! Oh my god, Fuck Paige.” A girl’s voice, excited and a little too loud for the quiet of the dorms.

Azzi’s stomach dropped. She froze, her hand still in the air. The sound of the girl calling Paige’s name echoed in her ears, and Azzi could feel a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her chest.

It hurt, even though Azzi couldn’t explain why. She wanted to shake it off, to remind herself that she wasn’t with Paige and that she had no claim on her, but the sting wouldn’t go away.

She stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even bring herself to knock on the door anymore. Instead, she backed away, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling of walking into Paige’s room and finding that girl with her—that girl whose name she didn’t even know but who had already made Azzi feel small—was too much.

Azzi turned and walked quickly down the hallway, away from Paige’s room, her heart racing in her chest.

…

For the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi kept things friendly, almost as if that night at Ted's had never happened. They didn’t bring it up once—no awkward glances, no mention of the kiss. They were good at pretending. To anyone else, they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying the occasional late-night talk, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing glances across the room. And for a while, that worked. They kept it light and uncomplicated. But Azzi knew, deep down, that something had changed.

It wasn’t until they found themselves at another party that the cracks started to show again. Clearly alcohol was their biggest enemy. This time, it was more of a low-key kickback in someone’s suite—still loud and filled with the hum of music and chatter, but less crowded than a full on party. Azzi was grateful for that; she didn’t want to deal with the crowds of people that had made everything feel so messy the last time.

Amber hadn’t so much as glanced at her all night, spending the majority of her time with some girl from her law class who kept trailing after her, whispering in her ear, and laughing like they were in their own little world. Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, it was a relief. She didn’t want to deal with Amber tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening without any drama—something she knew she was starting to crave, especially when it came to Paige.

Paige was there too, of course, as she always was. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she was still fun to be around. Her usual carefree energy, though, was tempered by something tonight. Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the way Paige held herself, the way she lingered a little too long in Azzi’s space when they shared a laugh, or the way their hands brushed as they passed each other in the small crowd.

For a while, Azzi managed to focus on other things—laughing at jokes, chatting with some of their teammates, and even dancing a little. But it wasn’t long before Paige’s presence became undeniable again. Every time she looked in Paige’s direction, there was something magnetic about her. She found herself gravitating back toward her, unable to resist the pull.

And then, of course, the alcohol kicked in. The drinks kept flowing, and just like the last time, the line between friendly and something more began to blur. Azzi caught herself looking at Paige longer than necessary, noticing the way the light hit her face or how her lips curled into a smile when she said something funny. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to the subtle cues, the closeness they shared.

The night seemed to slip into a haze after a few too many drinks. The music was louder, the air warmer with the scent of alcohol and bodies pressed together. Azzi, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, found herself near Paige again. Azzi tried to focus on something else—anything else—so her eyes flickered back to Amber, still deep in conversation with the same girl from her law class.

Azzi wasn’t even upset, she was just curious about the situation, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige followed her line of sight, eyes narrowing slightly as she saw the same thing Azzi did. Amber was leaning in, her lips too close to the other girl’s ear, her body language clearly more than friendly. For a moment, Paige didn’t know what came over her, but she felt a spark of something, something protective that pushed her forward. Before she had a chance to second-guess it, she stood from her spot and pulled Azzi gently but firmly onto her lap on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The sudden proximity caught Azzi off guard. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her back, the warmth of her body pressing against hers, and the weight of Paige’s arms as they tightened around her. Azzi tensed slightly, not sure how to react to the intensity of the moment. But then Paige’s voice, soft and soothing, brushed against her ear.

“Just relax,” Paige whispered, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin. It was as if the simple words unlocked something inside Azzi. She felt her body hum, a subtle tension easing as Paige’s words settled in her mind. She leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s chest, the solid thump of her heartbeat grounding her.

Paige’s voice was soft against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, "You know you're much prettier than whoever she's talking to." Azzi couldn’t help the hum that escaped her lips, the sound almost a mixture of appreciation and something else.

Paige’s voice dipped lower. “I would never do you like that.”

Azzi stayed still for a moment, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest, but her words came out without hesitation. “You did.”

Paige froze for a second, confused, her arms tightening around Azzi instinctively. "Whatchu mean?"

Azzi let out a breath, her heart racing with the weight of the conversation, and she turned her head just enough to rest her cheek against Paige’s chest. “That night after Ted’s… I came to talk to you.”

Paige stiffened, her jaw clenching slightly. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew exactly what Azzi was talking about. The air between them shifted, the lightness of their previous banter now replaced by an unspoken tension.

She tightened her grip around Azzi, not out of force but to keep her close, to prevent the moment from slipping out of her control. "I was drunk," Paige said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, not just from the closeness, but from Paige’s words. She didn’t know why it hurt more to hear that it had been a moment of drunken weakness than if Paige had just admitted it had been something more. But she swallowed hard, pushing the sting of it down.

“Yeah, well.” Azzi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, as cutting as the silence that followed.

Paige let out a frustrated breath, but instead of getting defensive, she spoke with more restraint. “You wanna know something?” Her voice was quieter now.

Azzi nodded her head gently against Paige’s chest, her heart pounding in anticipation. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Paige just yet, not wanting to see what might be written on her face.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she spoke, lowering her voice even more, making Azzi shiver. “Your name slipped out.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at that, her body instinctively turning, as if the words had unlocked something inside her. She was trying to turn to face Paige, to process what had just been said, but Paige’s grip on her tightened, keeping her in place, pressing her body flush against hers.

“Don’t. Just listen,” Paige murmured. Azzi felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her neck, and despite the knot in her stomach, she couldn’t pull away. Paige’s arms were like anchors, steadying her in the midst of the storm inside her.

Amber’s gaze shifted across the room, her eyes narrowing when she spotted the two of them. She had been too distracted by the girl from her law class, but now that she was looking, it was impossible to ignore the way Azzi and Paige were practically wrapped around each other. Paige’s arm was snugly around Azzi’s waist, their heads tilted toward each other, too close. Amber felt a surge of anger rise within her as she watched Paige’s lips move near Azzi’s ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear but could certainly imagine as Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed and she crossed her legs.

Amber’s grip on her drink tightened, and her pulse quickened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Azzi was lost in the moment, but then, out of the corner of her eye she felt Amber’s gaze. The air seemed to thicken, and Azzi could feel the tension spike instantly, even before Paige noticed.

Amber’s eyes were locked on her and Paige, and the fury in her gaze was clear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her posture was rigid. Azzi knew Amber well enough to see the storm brewing in her eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was directed solely at Azzi. It was as if Amber was furious with Paige too.

Paige, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle once she noticed. Her smirk widening as she notices Amber staring at them. She didn’t break eye contact with Amber. Instead, she leaned in closer to Azzi, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"You want me to let go?"

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward Amber, still standing across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Azzi paused, her heart racing as she considered Paige’s question.

She knew Amber was watching. And yet, as her mind spun with uncertainty, her body couldn’t help but answer for her. She shook her head softly, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "No."

Paige’s smile was slow and full of satisfaction, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she tightened her hold on Azzi, pulling her impossibly closer. Azzi felt the pressure of Paige’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her in place as Paige’s lips descended on her neck, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin there.

Azzi's breath caught in her throat, her body trembling slightly from the gentle caress as she bit her lip. Paige made sure to angle her head just enough so that Amber could see every move, every touch. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than necessary, the intimacy of it undeniable.

Paige pulled away just slightly, her gaze flicking over to Amber, locking eyes with her again in an almost mocking way. She knew Amber was furious, but it seemed like the moment only fueled Paige’s smirk, her confidence growing as she deliberately pressed closer to Azzi, the whole scene laid out in front of Amber’s watchful eyes.

Azzi, still caught in the feeling of Paige’s touch, swallowed hard, trying to focus on the situation at hand. But Paige had effectively shifted the focus back to Amber, making sure that whatever was happening—whatever was about to happen—Amber couldn’t look away.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck a few more times, each press of her lips making Azzi’s pulse quicken.

The soft, lingering touches felt like they were meant for no one but her, and for a moment, everything else faded. Azzi’s breath became shallow, her body leaning into Paige’s embrace, her mind clouded completely by the heat of the moment.

But then, the spell was broken.

Amber, whose eyes blazing with a mix of rage and intoxication, stormed across the room. Her movements were unsteady. Without hesitation, Amber yanked Azzi off of Paige, the movement more forceful than necessary.

Azzi stumbled slightly, the abruptness of the action catching her off guard, but before she could even regain her balance, Paige was standing up quickly, her posture stiff, her jaw clenching with anger. She stepped in front of Azzi, putting herself between them, her eyes flashing as she looked Amber up and down.

“Don’t fucking touch her like that,” Paige’s voice was low but still controlled enough.

Amber, still fuming, sneered at Paige.. “I can touch her however the fuck I want to,” she spat, her voice slurred just enough to reflect how drunk she was. She took a step toward Azzi, her hand reaching out again as if to make her point as she tried to grab Azzit.

Paige stepped between them before she could get any closer. “Yo, you needa chill,” Paige said.

Amber ignored her and reached for Azzi again, but Paige’s hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. “Bro, she’s not going with you. You’re crashing out,” Paige said. Her eyes locked on Amber’s with a mix of warning and restraint.

Amber let out a bitter chuckle, her drunkenness masking the anger simmering beneath. “I promise you haven’t seen that yet,” she snapped.

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, she moved closer, her jaw clenching even tighter. The air between them was thick and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Just as the situation was about to tip over the edge, Evina appeared out of nowhere, throwing her arm around Paige’s shoulders casually.. “Yo, you good, P?” she asked, her voice light but carrying enough weight to cut through the tension.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off Amber, their gaze still locked. “Yeah, I’m good E.”

Evina, still sensing the storm brewing, gently started nudging Paige back, her arm firm around her shoulders. “Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, her tone calm as she tried to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Paige let it happen, allowing Evina to put some space between her and Amber, though her eyes never left Amber’s face. The message was clear.

Amber’s voice cut through the heavy silence.. “Azzi this is bullshit, let’s go.”.

Azzi didn’t move from her position near Paige, her body tense, clearly caught in an internal battle. Her eyes flicked between Amber and Paige, knowing her answer but unsure of what to say. How to say it.

Amber’s frustration turned to disbelief as she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. “Azzi, are you fucking serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. She tried to get closer to Azzi, but Paige was there again, stepping in and blocking her path.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna go with you, just let it go,” Paige said.

Amber scoffed, glaring at Paige like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She can speak for herself. She’s not a fucking toddler,” she shot back, her anger bubbling over.

The words seemed to snap Azzi out of her internal battle. She straightened her posture, inhaling deeply as she finally found her voice. “I’m just gonna stay with Paige tonight.”

Amber froze, her expression shifting from anger to shock as the weight of Azzi’s words sunk in. “What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with Paige tonight?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, the disbelief clear.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t falter as she replied, her voice a little firmer this time. “You can go be with whoever you want from law class and I’m going to stay with Paige.”

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Azzi didn’t need to elaborate further. The implication in her words was clear, and Amber understood exactly what she meant.

Amber let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked between Azzi and Paige. “Wow,” she muttered. “Almost three years of my life down the fucking drain.”

For a moment, Amber stood there, her chest rising and falling as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the counter. Grabbing an empty glass, she poured herself a hefty drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass cutting through the tense silence.

Azzi exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping as the weight of the moment settled over her. She stared at the floor, processing everything, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Paige noticed. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Azzi’s back to draw her attention. Azzi glanced at her, her watery eyes betraying the calm facade she was trying to keep.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Azzi gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she murmured, but the slight tremor in her voice told another story.

Paige studied her carefully, reading every detail—the tenseness of her shoulders, the glossiness of her pretty brown eyes, the way her hands fidgeted. She saw it all: the hurt, the relief, and the overwhelming weight of the decision Azzi had just made.

After a moment, Paige leaned in slightly. “You wanna get outta here?”

Azzi blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears that were trying to spill over. She looked at Paige, the question hanging in the air like an open door, a perfect escape that she desperately needed. With a small nod, she said.

“Yes. Please.”

Without another word, Paige slid her arm around Azzi’s shoulders and Azzi melted into her side, leaning her head slightly against Paige's as they made their way to the door.

Some people in the room seemed to register the moment. Heads turned the weight of their departure together a little more serious.

…

After that, it was like the universe conspired to give Azzi small, quiet signs the rest of the night, reassuring her that she’d made the right decision.

The first came in the form of Paige when they got back to the room. She didn’t push or pry for information or what this meant for them; she simply held Azzi, her arms wrapped securely around her while silent tears slipped down Azzi’s face. It wasn’t dramatic or loud—just a quiet release as Azzi processed the reality of what had happened. She wasn’t exactly sad, but the weight of ending a nearly three-year relationship pressed on her chest.

Paige didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or ask if Azzi wanted to talk. She just stayed there, letting Azzi’s tears fall against her chest, dampening her chest.

That was the first sign—because Azzi didn’t know anyone else, besides sweet and gentle Paige, who would hold the girl they were in love with while she cried over her ex. It was a selfless love that Azzi hadn’t experienced before, the kind of quiet genuine love that didn’t demand gratitude or expect anything in return.

Eventually, the tears slowed, Azzi’s body growing heavier in Paige’s arms. Her breathing evened out, her exhaustion catching up to her.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t let go, even as Azzi drifted to sleep against her chest, her tears drying where they’d fallen.

The next moment the universe seemed to confirm Azzi had made the right choice came later that night. Paige hadn’t fully let herself fall asleep yet. She was hovering in that space between wakefulness and rest, a part of her instinctively still alert because she knew what might happen.

Hours later, Azzi began to stir, soft murmurs turning into restless movements as her breathing changed. The effects of a bad dream pulled her out of sleep, and she woke with a slight panic.

But Paige was there.

Within seconds, Paige tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her back down to the mattress, whispering groggily, “It’s just a dream, Az.” Her voice was a little raspy from sleep, barely above a murmur, but it anchored Azzi.

Azzi stayed still, her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. Paige, still half-asleep, spooned her tightly, her hold warm and reassuring, her presence a contrast for Azzi’s frayed nerves. They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them as Paige’s coconut-and-vanilla scent surrounded Azzi.

Azzi lay there, her mind racing as she processed everything—where she finally was, who she was with, and how different it felt. Finally, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

Paige squeezed her tighter, pulling her closer into the spooning position, and hummed in response, the sound low in Azzi’s ear.

After a moment, Paige’s voice, still thick with sleep, asked, “You wanna talk about your dream?”

Azzi hesitated before asking, “How’d you know it was a bad dream?”

Even in the dark, Paige smiled, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “I noticed on a few road games,” she said softly, “you tend to have nightmares when you’ve had a lot of sugar that day.” Her voice carried a teasing warmth as she continued, “Almost like your mind needs to burn off all the extra energy or something.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter in a way she hadn’t expected. The way Paige noticed things like that—small, seemingly inconsequential details—made Azzi’s chest ache in the best way.

In that moment, Azzi allowed herself to fully confirm what she’d known for a while: Paige was the right one for her. She pressed herself further into Paige, her back snug against Paige’s chest, and interlaced their fingers, her palm pressing against the back of Paige’s hand.

Paige felt the shift and whispered, “You good?”

Azzi nodded, humming her confirmation, but Paige wasn’t fully convinced. “You can’t sleep anymore?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“No,” Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she murmured, “What do you need? I can make you some tea or something.”

Azzi hesitated, her mind swirling. The weight of the day, the relief of being held by Paige, and the pull of something deeper. Finally, after a long moment, she shifted closer to Paige—though there was hardly any space left between them—and guided Paige’s hand lower, resting over her waistband, silently telling her what she wanted.

Paige stilled for a moment, processing Azzi’s request. Then, her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s hand. “Are you sure?” Paige whispered, making sure Azzi was fully in control of what she wanted.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Paige’s in the faint light spilling in through the blinds. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her gaze.

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. She then trailed a few more kisses down Azzi’s neck, her movements slow, giving Azzi time to change her mind if she wanted to. Paige’s breath brushed against Azzi’s ear as she murmured, “Are you sure, Azzi?”

She nodded softly against Paige, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes I’m sure,” she whispered.

Paige searched her face for another moment, wanting to be absolutely certain. When she found nothing but certainty in Azzi’s expression, she smiled back, her features softening. Her free hand brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she murmured, “Okay.”

She leaned in again, her lips trailing along Azzi’s jawline, her lips filled with nothing but care. Paige moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment and make sure Azzi felt safe after everything from earlier that night. After her lips have traced every part of Azzis neck, Paige softly grabs her jaw pulling her towards into a soft kiss. Their lips and tongues dance with one another perfectly as Paige leads them.

The kiss grew more urgent, both of them succumbing to the warmth spreading through their bodies and the slight alcohol still in their system. It was the kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, the kind that drew them closer despite the impossibleness of closing the already nonexistent gap between them.

Paige let out a low groan when Azzi nipped at her bottom lip, sending a shiver down her spine that she felt all the way to her toes. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips at the sound, emboldened by how easily she could unravel her.

Trying to turn in Paige’s arms to face her fully, Azzi shifted, but Paige tightened her hold, her hands firm as they kept Azzi in place. “Stay like this,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice rough and breathless.

Azzi sighed softly at the words, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she allowed herself to be guided, her hands coming up to rest on top of Paige’s that were trailing up Azzi’s stomach to palm her breast under her sports bra. Making Azzi moan quietly.

Her head tilting slightly to give Paige more space, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was softer this time but no less consuming.

The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist. There was nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths and the muffled sounds of their kisses filling the 3 a.m. silence. Paige squeezed Azzi’s chest slightly, her palm warm as it anchored Azz here and there, Azzi couldn’t help the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her heart racing each time Paige palmed her breast or circling her fingers, as she surrendered to the moment.

The air between them is a little sticky with heat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional gasp or hum of pleasure as Paige's hand explores more boldly. Azzi's breath hitches when Paige's lips trail lower again, brushing against the soft skin of her neck, as she sucks softly here and there. A warmth spreads through Azzi and she tilts her head to give Paige more room, her body quickly reacting in ways she hadn't expected. It usually took her so much longer.

Paige is completely lost in the moment too, her fingers grazing over Azzi's skin, exploring the curves of her body with a gentle urgency.

She can feel the quick rhythm of Azzi's heartbeat beneath her touch and the slight tremor in her movements every time she takes a deep breath. It's a silent conversation between them, that speaks of trust and longing, of desires barely held in check.

Paige pauses just for a moment, her lips hovering over Azzi's skin. "Can I leave marks?" she whispers again, her voice still soft but filled with a hint of need. Azzi reaches back as her fingers curl into Paige's hair, tugging her down to meet her lips for a moment. "Just make sure it’s below my jersey," she murmurs.

Paige nods at this as she goes back to sucking on Azzi’s neck, only sucking harshly when she angled herself enough to be near her chest. This made Azzi hum quietly each time as she grew more needy.

The tension between them thickens as Azzi, unable to hold herself back, pushes herself back against Paige with more urgency.

Paige doesn't hesitate, sensing her need, and her hand slides into Azzi’s shorts down to where Azzi's body is calling out for more. The touch alone causes a soft whimper to escape Azzi’s as Paige drags her fingers through her wetness.

Azzi's whimpers, her body reacting immediately to the feeling. Paige smiles to herself, the sound of Azzi's breathless response sending a rush of heat through her.

"How do you like it, pretty girl?" Paige whispers, her voice low and teasing Azzi a little as she continues rubbing against her, brushing her lips along Azzi's neck.

Azzi barely manages to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. It's almost too much for her to process, her body demanding more but her mind clouded with desire that she never wants to end. She struggles to find her voice, a soft tremble in her response. "I don’t know... I haven’t done a lot," she breathes, her words catching.

Paige chuckles softly, her lips gently tracing the outline of Azzi's jaw, coaxing her to speak. "You still gotta tell me what you want," she murmurs, her thumb brushing Azzi's lips.

Azzi, breath hitching, whines quietly in response, the word spilling out of her before she even fully realizes it. "Rough."

A slow hum escapes Paige at the confession. There's a slight pause, a moment where she evaluates, making sure Azzi is sure. "You wanna try it?" she asks.

Azzi nods, eyes half-lidded, her voice almost a whisper. "Just a little for now."

Paige nods with a small, satisfied smile.

"Mm. Okay." She adjusts so she can tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair to tug slightly, pulling her head back just enough to expose more of her neck. Her other hand continues its journey, her movements deliberate as she works Azzi up, feeling Azzi's pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Azzi immediately gasps as Paige yanks her hair back again and inserts her fingers at the same time. Paige keeping Azzi close as she works her fingers in and out.

Azzi, who has always prided herself on her composure, found herself straining to stay silent. Every brush of Paige’s lips, every gentle tug of her hands in Azzi’s hair and the way she was moving in and out of her with ease, sent shockwaves through Azzi that begged for release in the form of a sound. But she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to let the smallest escape.

Their situation was far too complicated for anyone to find out like this, especially not their teammates. Azzi’s mind flickered briefly to how disastrous it would be if someone heard them, but even that thought wasn’t enough to fully pull her back from the haze of desire Paige had her in.

Paige noticed the tension in Azzi’s body and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed kisses and bites along the column of Azzi’s neck, testing just how far she could push her.

“Struggling, huh?” Paige whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shivered but didn’t respond, her nails digging slightly into Paige’s arm definitely leaving nail marks. She bit her lip harder, trying to focus on anything other than the way Paige’s mouth was wreaking havoc on her self-control.

Paige chuckled softly at her silence, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin and making it even harder for her to stay quiet. “Relax,” Paige murmured, her voice softer now, her lips pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s ear. “I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”

The reassurance helped, only a little, but it was still a battle for Azzi to keep her composure. Her heart raced as she nodded faintly, leaning back into Paige, trusting her to keep them both grounded.

They stayed just like that for some time. Paige whispering in Azzi’s ear as she worked in and out of her and Azzi biting her lip or pushing her face into the pillow to try to muffle some of the sounds slipping out of her.

Eventually Azzi starts pushing herself further into Paige trying to match her rhythm as Paige's grip tightens in Azzi's hair, pulling her head back just enough for her lips to brush against Azzi's ear. Her voice a little rough, full of her restrained desire as she mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered at the words, her breathing unsteady as she said, “It’s so hard to stay quiet.” Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation evident, and it made Paige’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I know,” Paige chuckled softly, her tone laced with amusement. “I can tell.” Her lips grazed Azzi’s jawline before she whispered, “You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent heat through Azzi’s legs, and before she could stop herself, she was desperately reaching back to grab Paige's head and pulling her into a desperate kiss. It was the only way she could think to quiet herself, to channel everything she was feeling without letting any more sounds escape.

Paige groaned softly into her kiss, her hands sinking deeper into Azzi, her other hand still tangled in her hair as she held her firmly in place. She met Azzi’s need with her own, kissing her deeply, almost possessively. Azzi whimpered again at the new angle, and Paige swallowed the sound, her lips and tongue moving against Azzi’s in a way that made the world around them disappear.

Azzi’s neediness grew, her hands clutching at Paige as if letting go would shatter her. The kiss deepened further, their breaths mingling as Azzi melted into Paige, unable to think of anything but the way her body responded to Paige as if it had never been touched before.

Paige pulled back just enough to murmur against Azzi’s lips, her voice breathless but teasing. “You still good on being quiet?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Not if you keep fucking me like this.”

Paige chuckles before leaning back down to pull Assi into a kiss as she continues working her fingers in and out of Azzi. She wants to do so much more to her but she’s taking it slow for Azzi who is less experienced. Not long after, Azzi's legs are squeezing around Paige's hand as she starts to chase her release.

Paige senses Azzi's growing struggle to stay quiet, knowing just how difficult it’s going to be. So she brings her free arm under Azzi, guiding her hand to Azzi’s lips. “Bite down,” Paige whispers, her voice low.

Azzi hesitates for a moment, confusion flashing across her face before the pressure builds as Paige starts curling her fingers perfectly as she adds her thumb to Azzi’s clit. Feeling overwhelmed by this she does exactly as Paige instructed. Her teeth sinking into Paige’s hand, a sharp, almost desperate grip as her body starts trembling. Her legs squeezing Paige’s hand impossibly tight as she finishes all over her hand.

The sensation sends a wave of heat through Paige, but the bite is harsh, almost painful, as Azzi fights to stay silent. Paige, feeling the intensity of the bite, clenches her jaw but when that's not enough she quickly presses her lips to Azzi's shoulder, the sting of her own discomfort igniting a need to counter it. Her teeth graze Azzi's skin, just enough to distract from the sharp bite, as both of them are caught in the tension of the moment as Paige coaxes Azzi through her release.

As Azzi’s breathing finally began to slow, still uneven but no longer shaky as Paige pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Grounding Azzi as she murmured against her skin, “You’re so beautiful... so perfect Azzi….” Her voice was a soothing balm, wrapping Azzi in warmth.

Azzi felt herself going limp against Paige, her body almost like dead weight, but Paige didn’t let go. She held her firmly.

After some time, Azzi shifted, turning to face Paige. Her brown eyes were hazy, her lips slightly parted as she tried to process the moment. Paige reached up, her wet fingers brushing Azzi’s lips gently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but commanding.

Still in a daze, Azzi obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as Paige slid her fingers into Azzi’s mouth letting her taste herself. Azzi instinctively wrapped her lips around them, her eyes fluttering as she felt the intimacy of the gesture. Paige’s eyes softened, a quiet smile gracing her lips as she watched Azzi experience something new, her thumb of her free hand brushing over Azzi’s cheek.

Paige slowly withdrew her fingers, leaning in to kiss Azzi tenderly. Their lips met in a slow kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, Paige cupped Azzi’s face, her thumb grazing her jawline.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s for any hint of hesitation or regret.

Azzi nodded, her eyes hooded, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Yeah... I’m more than okay.”

"Come here," Paige whispered softly, as she tugged Azzi closer. Azzi let herself be pulled, settling onto Paige’s chest with ease. Her head rested just over Paige’s heart, and the steady, rhythmic sound filled her ears. It wasn’t completely calm, though—it was hammering in her chest, quick and unsteady, a stark contrast to the soothing hand Paige had resting on her back.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the vibrations against Azzi’s cheek. “Of course it is,” she admitted, but she didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t need to—Azzi already knew what it meant.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, to ask if Paige was sure about all of this, but before she could, Paige leaned down and caught her lips in another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of heat like the others they’d shared tonight—it was grounding, a soft reassurance.

When they broke apart, Paige murmured, “Just relax Az. We can talk about it later.”

Azzi nodded, settling back into Paige’s chest as her breathing evened out. She reached down to intertwine their hands, wanting the simple connection, but she froze when her fingers brushed against Paige’s hand. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the harsh indentations there.

She gasped softly. “Oh my God,” Azzi whispered, realizing she’d left marks.

Paige chuckled again, her tone more playful this time. “Yeah… I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do when I start doing everything else.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh as she tucked herself back against Paige’s chest. The teasing didn’t faze her at all because she knew it was lighthearted. Instead, she focused on the comforting rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat, the sound lulling her further into a state of peace she hasn’t felt in a while.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi allowed herself to sink into the moment fully. As she listened to Paige’s heartbeat, soothing her to sleep, the truth she’d been fighting hard to ignore surfaced in her mind. She was in love with Paige. Completely and irrevocably.

And for once, she didn’t feel the need to push it away as she kissed Paige’s neck softly before drifting in her arms.

[homestylehughes]

i'll always come home to you.

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: quinn making a promise to always come home to yn.

word count: 508

warning(s): nothing!! super cute fluff :)

authors note: hi loves!! super sorry ive been so inactive. school started, and ive been so busy but i wanted to write a little blurb about quinn, he's been on my mind recently, he's sooooooo (so many words). anyways! i hope you all are doing well, take care of yourself and stay healthy. much love as always <3.

No matter how many times Quinn left for a roadie, it was still hard. No matter how many times you tried to prepare for the long weeks without him all around you, it was still so hard. This time specifically was harder than usual. You had the worst week at work and all you wanted was to come home to Quinn, to wrap yourself in his embrace..to feel calm, to feel love. But instead of being cuddled up to Quinn, you were instead cuddled up on the couch under your favorite blanket with a pout on your face as Quinn finished packing his things for the 2 week roadie. 

“I wish you could stay” you pout out from the couch, watching as Quinn packs his last bag full of gear. 

“I know baby, i wish i could too” quinn says from the kitchen, shooting you a quick loving look before getting back to work 

“Imagine if i just trap you in the house, so then you can't leave” you say jokingly 

“You'd have a lot of mad fans and players on your hands baby” quinn says with a chuckle, as he sets his now packed bag on the ground, now walking towards on the couch 

“I know. It sounded good in my head” you say with a sigh, dropping your head back against the couch to look up at quinn who's now standing above you. 

“If i could you know id stay here with you forever” he says as he looks down at you 

“I know, I wish you could. I know I should be used to you leaving but every time you do I swear it gets harder.” 

“Oh baby” Quinn says, moving to sit next to you on the couch. 

“Come here” he gestures to his lap, nodding as you follow his request. Hooking your leg on his thigh, pulling yourself into his lap. 

“Im sorry..im being a baby.” you say, feeling childish that your acting like this infront of him

“Hey. look at me” he says, moving your face to look at his 

“You have nothing to feel sorry for, you're allowed to be sad. You know how much it kills me to have to be away from you for weeks and months out of the year? I miss you before I even walk out the door, I promise that I will always come home to you, as long as you allow me too." Quinn declares to you, his eyes never moving from yours. 

You can feel your eyes beginning to water as you soak in his words, as you stare back at him. 

“Quinn. You always know how to make me cry” you say with a small laugh as you go to run your hand under your eyes to catch the tears that have fallen

“I love you so much. I want you to always come home to me for the rest of our lives.” you say 

“I love you more” he says, moving his hands to cradle your face in his hands,

Quinn moves to connect your lips together, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close to you even if it's just for a little while longer. Embracing each other in your warmth and love, pouring every bit of your love into the kiss, hoping it'll give you enough to last for two weeks. Even its two weeks or two months you know that Quinn will always come home to you. 

[crowsghosts]

Crow’s shrines were never elaborate, nor would they like it that way. All he needed was a simple, golden scale with whatever trinkets their worshippers thought were best to offer. Justice would answer their prayers.

And yet, for a hundred and fifty years, Crow left the prayers unanswered.

Their grief over the sudden death of two friends left the god shattered into pieces. All the prayers they had received were nothing more than whispers in the night, and even an outcry could not overpower the flood of Crow’s own tears. As the years past, the offerings slowly trickled down until Crow received nothing more than an old candy wrapper.

And yet, a young girl persisted in making offerings. At first, Justice didn’t pay much attention to the efforts, but turned his head out of curiosity as the girl grew older. Why was she doing this? Was anyone telling her that there wasn’t a point anymore? That the god had abandoned them?

Crow watched as with each passing year, the girl continued to bring trinkets to any one of his shrines without a prayer asking for their help.

And maybe this was the push that had gotten the god out of their rut and back into fighting tyrants, just as they always done before.

As more decades passed, Crow could hear the old prayers grow past the once-tiny whispers, answering each plea for help. The number of trinkets amassed from their shrine offerings slowly returned to its usual numbers, but he could distinguish the girl’s offerings from the rest. She didn’t miss a single year, either.

By the time the now elderly woman was reaching her end, she noticed someone knocking on her door, and opened it.

“May I help you, sir?” She asked warmly.

“No, no. I’m just briefly passing by, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, dear. Have a seat.”

Crow slowly moved inside, observing the room around them until he spotted his shrine: the simple, golden scale, as the old lady placed a small chocolate in front of it.

“Don’t mind this. I’ve had this tradition since I was a little girl,” she explained, “I’ve been told only to gift to Justice’s shrine if I needed help from him, but I’m sure they don’t mind a normal offering.”

So that was why she left trinkets without a prayer. Crow tilted their head with mild curiosity and content.

“How did you find out about him? Didn’t they vanish for a while?”

“Oh, yes, that’s what everyone else kept saying!” The lady chuckled, “But even if he were gone forever, it still wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

There was a moment of silence from Crow. The god wasn’t expecting such an answer.

“… and what would you do if they were sitting here with you at this moment?”

“Oh, just treat him like any other guest! Why do you ask?”

“Well…”

Crow stood and took an object out of his pocket, revealing an old candy wrapper.

“I don’t know if this is enough proof to show that I am Justice, but I wanted to swing by and say thanks. I was in a rough spot when I noticed you were leaving offerings at my shrines.”

The god placed the wrapper back in his pocket before slowly clasping his hands around the old woman’s.

“From this moment forward, you and your family have my protection and blessing. No tyrant or bully can harm you as long as your bloodline lasts.”

The old lady stood in stunned silence, processing what she had just heard. From what she heard, Justice rarely, if ever, gave anyone his blessing, so to even be gifted it herself…

The woman simply smiled in gratitude.

“It’s an honour, sir.”

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

TW: Talk about mental health and sui ideation and sui attempt

I feel the need to talk more about Jayce's "attempt" again because of what I learned from his journal in the "Council Archives"

There's a fair argument to be made that Jayce was already in a very bad headspace even BEFORE the explosion in his apartment.

I you read Jayce's journals it feels like Jayce was ALREADY spiraling before he got kicked out of the academy. For a few reasons.

-----

1.Jayce was very isolated to begin with.

He was working on experiments he knew were illegal and was so paranoid about being found out he started coming up with insults to call another student who almost caught him throwing away a failed experiment.

He also seemed to only be able to cheer himself up by talking shit about other people's work and how everyone else just couldn't measure up to how important his work was and would be. And when he finally meets Viktor he talks about never really thinking he'd take to working with another scientist.

(Honestly, pre-act 1 Jayce comes off a little more like his LOL counterpart which make me believe Arcane Jayce meeting and working with Viktor as early as he did is what helped make him the version of himself he is in Arcane?)

------

2. Jayce was not really sleeping and his schoolwork and grades were going downhill.

He talks in his journal about the fact that he's not getting to sleep until sunrise a lot of nights because he was trying and failing to make the crystals work.

And as a direct consequence of not sleeping he talks about Heimerdinger (the DEAN) having to come talk to him because his grades are slipping.

Jayce literally decides to make a graph correlating his lack of sleep to his poor academic performance.

(Later he expresses concern that he might get expelled from the academy because his work is slipping that badly).

And remember all the while when he is so sleep-deprived he can't focus on coursework he it FULLY CONVINCED he can figure out Hextech. You know a whole new field of study. It doesn't work, shockingly.

------

3. Ximena was already worried about Jayce wellbeing and trying to get him to go outside and be around others.

He eats some snacks insults some people's work to himself and then goes back to doing what he was doing.

Not a lot to talk about with this one except it's no wonder she tried to get him to back off magic if she could already tell he wasn't okay especially when we consider the state he was in at that point.

You also see that both his mother and Heimerdinger were expressing valid concern for him only for him to brush it off.

-----

4. Near the end of the journal entries before we get to the ACT 1 content he says some concerning things considering his later attempt on his life.

First he starts to doubt what he's getting anywhere he remembers something Heimdinger once said about most inventors failing a 1000 times before succeeding and he makes a self-deprecating joke about "I suppose I must be closing in...".

Then he straight up says he can't see a path forward.

And when makes a pros and cons list of his experiments where he talks about how the work with the crystals is very dangerous and if he pushes to much it could kill him but also how he's in danger of getting expelled if he can't sort out his schoolwork.

and then he writes.

"Which is worse? Killed or expelled?"

Which is certainly a Harry Potter reference but also given his eventual attempt is very telling.

And it's closely followed by him saying his mom was worried about him, which... seems valid.

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

Also on a side note unrelated to the journal entries.

Jayce's attempt was not a choice made suddenly in a rush of emotion like Viktor's, he planned it.

Jayce not only left what was implied to be a suicide note he took the methodical time to literally WAX SEAL the note with his official house mark. And it took Viktor a long long while of talking to him to get him to back away from the ledge. He was fully committed to committing.

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

Final thoughts: I think Jayce was in a place in his mind backed into a corner.

He wasn't able to reach out for help or even trust anyone because of the nature of his work. He wasn't listening to people that were concerned about him. And the way in which Jayce was doing his work was damaging to himself and his life in general. He was spiraling.

He needed someone else there to share the weight of what he was trying to do, to be able to reach out to outside of his own head which was the person Viktor became to him.

Part of me even wonders if Jayce was already in a place where he might have ended up on that ledge without the explosion if he didn't change his ways or have a sudden breakthrough.