#still i feel like it's too much and too little at the same time idk i just Know when i really like someone and then i don't wanna lose them

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[sugawhaaa]

HAN ONE-SHOT

⭐️🖤Naughty boy🖤⭐️

Warnings//genre::SMUT! roleplay, praise and degradation, edging, mommy dynamic, dacryphilia (Like big time)

Pairing:: sub!Han x dom!fem!reader

A/N:: this fanfic is so special in the sense that it's not like super dom and sub but there is still that control and loss of control feeling. Idk how to explain it but it's just so sweet and sexy at the same time 😭 also this is way shorter than I had planned sorry

Skz masterlist:: 🖤

🎧::

Han didn't expect much after such an eventful day. It was Christmas day and Han woke up super early, just like a kid, to open all the presents, you cooked breakfast, took a nap at lunchtime, and ate lunch at like 2 pm then got ready to go to Han's parents' place for dinner and socialized for way too damn long.

When you got home Han flopped onto his bed, groaning as he tore off his clothes, leaving him in his pants. He wasn't sure where you went, just that you were in the bathroom for a while, so long so that he got worried.

"Hey babe, you good?" He sits up on the bed to call for you only to see you leaning against the door frame in Christmas lingerie. "O-Oh," his eyes widened as his lips visibly parted. His cheeks glow red as he straightens his posture on the bed, chuckling lowly. "Is this my last gift of the day? My present from Santa for being good?" He smiles as you close the door with your foot and begin to walk over to him but he can instantly tell from the way you present yourself that he gravely misread this situation.

"I'd say it's more...discipline," you smirk before adjusting your latex glove. Han laughs awkwardly as he scoots up the bed, further away from you but you quickly pin him down and he jumps. "For all the naughty things I didn't catch you doing," you explain, and Han chuckles awkwardly again.

"I've been good," he nods with those big doe eyes, pleading for mercy. You tilt your head with a cocked brow.

"Really now? Then we can go through your private laptop then," he sit on his lap and reach for his laptop to which he quickly grabs your wrist.

"Hehe...babe I don't think you'll wanna see..." he blushes but it's no use; you open his laptop and go through his search history and browsers. Hundreds of kinky porn videos and hentai loaded up his laptop. You raise an eyebrow at him as he lets the bed swallow him whole in shame. "I-I can explain," he chuckles before biting his lip. You then click on one of the videos, allowing it to play into the awkwardly quiet room.

The laptop then began moaning and begging but not in a female voice, but a male.

"Please, I'll be a good boy," the laptop cries out and you raise a brow at Han.

"I don't only watch that kind of stuff!" Han desperately explains but you click on another video. Two guys...

"It's too big!" The man cries out and Han's face burns and just as he tries to explain himself the laptop moans loudly. You pause the video.

"Ready to admit you've been a naughty boy?" You tilt your head and Han pouts slightly, nodding. You close the laptop and set it back on the nightstand. "And you agree you deserve at least a little punishment for this?" Han sighs in response.

"Fine," he pouts but on the inside, he's over the moon excited for what you're going to do to him. You get him completely undressed and make him wait on the bed as you bring over the bin of toys. You sort through to find a bottle of lube but not any regular lube, this lube creates a warm, tingly sensation when applied; Han doesn't know this though.

You squirt a little bit onto his tip before massaging it in. He leans back with a deep moan, pleasure already taking him in a deep grasp. As you massage his cock he notices the warm, tingling sensations and it's overwhelmingly pleasurable. "Baby i-is this a new kind of lube?" He asks shyly and looks up at you with doe eyes.

"Yes, it is~" You grab the lube and apply a bit more and he moans louder, his back arched and chest puffed. "Can you feel the warming effect?" You ask with a hint of mischief and he nods.

"Y-Yeah..." he tosses his head back. "'Feels good," he nods and you smile with a little smirk as you move your hand faster.

"That's good baby," you say as his moans grow harsher and your hand moves faster. His face contorted in pleasure as his balls began to tighten, but it was still too early...right? His cock began to twitch in your hand and you felt the throb of his veins against your palm.

"I-I think..." Han blushes but he knows he doesn't have to say anything for you to understand. You begin to move your palm faster and Han lets out a whine. "O-Oh god!" He reaches out mindlessly to find something to grab onto. His hand finds your skirt and he tugs on it hard. "Oh don't stop!" He cries out as his legs shake slightly.

"what would you do if I did?" You tease and he whines loudly.

"Fuck, I don't know, probably cry," He croaks out along with some stutters. You tilt your head as he continues to moan, his lips quivering slightly; perhaps that was a sight you wanted to see. Jisungie sobbing so prettily below you. Your hand subconciously slows as you imagine how fucked up you could make him. "No god, please no!" He cries out but it's already too late, his climax already washing away as your hands lose contact with his body.

Han tosses his head back with a sound that's a mix between a groan and a sigh. He pouts softly as he stares up at the ceiling, his cock still twitching every now and then. "Why'd you stop?" He whines, silently pleading for you to resume the torture.

"You'll see," You smirk and a chill runs down his spine. You stand up and retrieve some restraints; it's ironic because Han bought them to use on you but he seem to always be the one tied up in the silky ropes of pleasure. Han whines as he sees you bring out his arch nemesis, however he doesn't resist; at this point he knows better than to protest his mistress.

You get hans wrists tied up to the headboard of the bed and he's already a squirming, whining mess. It seems that even after all the nights he's been chained, cuffed and tied he still can't keep still. Han bucks his hips up against nothing, pleading you to give him some attention.

"Please touch me baby, please I'll do anything right now," He looks up at you with that look. The look of raw desperation and weakness, he is completely under your spell.

"Is that so? Then say it," You lean closer to him, your body hovering over him, ghosting over his skin.

"S-Say what?" He looks distraught as he pulls himself closer to you.

"you know exactly what," You smirk and a realization dawns upon him.

"Please mommy, I'll be good, I promise," He pleads helplessly, his voice cracking which makes him blush. "Use me, hurt me, fuck me I don't care just make me cum," He looks up at you with those eyes again, as if he were trying to communicate through his eyes, begging for you. You think for a moment; he just gave you a lot of ideas didn't he? Fuck him? That sounds fun but you did that like last week. Hurt him? Nah he's too sooky for that right now. Then perhaps...use him?

"Alright, since you asked so nicely," You smile and he grins wide. You then lean down before abruptly sucking him into your mouth. His whole body jerks forward, pulling on the restraints.

"Fuck! W-Why do you always do that?" He whines, his bottom lip jutting out unintentionally.

You start by just sucking his tip but quickly make your way down until he's stuffed into your mouth. Meanwhile Han is having a crisis over the amount of pleasure he's in. The warmth of your mouth, the way you pull his cock with your lips, your throat tightening and loosening around his cock, how much longer can he last? He pulls on the restraints hard, leaving red marks on his wrists, as his body squirms around to follow the pleasure you bring him. "Baby-Mommy I think I-I," Han attempts to warn you about the incoming flood of cum he's built up but you quickly pull off his cock and he whines loudly again. You abruptly grab his jaw, a little forceful, but not too much. You can feel his breath against your hand, coming in and out in a rapid pace, as the pulse in his neck throbs against your hand, signaling at his racing heart from the adrenline.

"You cum when I say you can cum. Got it?" You tilt you head and he whines softly as he nods. "Good boy," You kiss his jaw and you hear the whimper he holds in his throat. You throw your leg over him to straddle him and he looks up at you with a different look this time, one of excitement and lust. You adjust your skirt to reveal you were wearing nothing under it the whole time. Jisung's face flushes as he sees your lack of clothing. You then position yourself over him, his cock aligned with your slit. You begin to sink down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison as his cock fills you. You let out a deep breath before beginning to rock your hips very softly. Jisung groans as he feels his tip rubbing up against your hilt and a grin of pleasure spreads across his face.

It's not long before you find yourself hopping on Han, not quite bouncing, but you were coming up and down on him. He tugs at the restraints again as he arches his back and you feel his cock twitching inside you.

"C-Can I cum soon?" He looks up at you with doe eyes that you literally can't say no to.

"Soon baby," You stroke his cheek softly and he let's out a pathetic whine. He then tosses his head back nd you can tell by his expression it's taking everything in him to not burst right then and there. You begin to ride him harder, the sound of your skin clapping together echoes in the room.

"Please!" He sobs out before groaning, "I can't, I can't~" as tears build on his lashes. Your eyes widen at the sight but you could tell he wasn't in pain, no, he was loving this. He looks directly into your eyes as tear falls along the curve of his cheek. Han then squints his shut and tears pour down his cheeks, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave. "Fuck!" He cries as his hands slip out of the restraints to pull you close. His arms wrap around your chest as he moans loudly and breathlessly into your ear. He then faintly whispers "Thank you," before resting his head on your shoulder.

you were momentarily frozen but you snap out of it and wrap your arms around him.

"Your welcome," You smile and he nuzzles into your neck, moaning softly.

"You just look so sexy in this," He tugs at your lingerie and you blush with a little smile.

[aventurineswife]

May I please request Aven playing with his twin babies??? (I always imagine him having boy and girl twins)

Like, imagine their tiny hands trying to grab his expensive trinkets and use them as teething toys (idk what they're called LOL) 💖💖

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart”

Summary: Aventurine finds himself caught in the simplest yet most precious game of them all: fatherhood. As he watches his twin babies playfully fight for his trinkets, he is overcome by a rare sense of joy and love and forgets his usual guarded ways. The twins bring out this part of him, an element of play which he has kept hidden for so long, reminding him that the gamble may not always be about wealth or power but about love and family and sometimes just the little things in life.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine, Family, Parenthood, Humor, Mischief, Love, Emotional Vulnerability, Joy.

A/N: searched it up and it's called teething toys (for babies), so you're correct! Don't worry :3

Aventurine had always been a man of risk—whether it was navigating the volatile corridors of power or placing a bet on an impossible con. But today, the stakes were far more personal, and far more precious.

He sat on a plush velvet armchair in the lavish sitting room of his estate, his usually composed features softened by a rare, unguarded smile. His children—his twin babies—played at his feet. The boy with his bright eyes and unruly hair laughed as he reached out for the small trinket that rested on the low table in front of his father. The girl, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously, was already doing her best to grab at the same piece of jewelry, her chubby fingers curling around the delicate gold chain.

They get him with a teasing, affectionate smile, the careful mask slipping in their presence. Aventurine thought himself a strategist: one reads the room and predicts the next move. This game of life has changed, though, when it comes to these two; his heart runs in an uncharted course.

"Ah, no, no," he crooned softly, reaching down to pull the gold necklace from their jaws, "That's not for you to chew on."

The boy whimpered softly, his huge eyes looking up at his father, while the girl beamed up at him as if plotting her next move. It was as if they were already working together—hard not to laugh at this. He had a feeling of something between alarm and endearment at the mischievous streak that mirrored his own.

"You two are already scheming," he said to himself, shaking his head. His eyes remained on their small hands, still reaching for anything they could grab. The girl grabbed the chip coin, clutching it in her chubby little fist. Aventurine's heart fluttered at how such small hands could hold such weight in his life.

"You know," he started, settling back in the chair as he absently fidgeted with his bracelet, "your parent would have a fit if they saw you two playing with my trinkets. They're far too expensive for you to be using them as teething toys."

But the two of them did not give up. The boy, not wanting to lose, managed to tug at a delicate gold ring on his father's wrist with a surprising strength in those baby fingers.

With a theatrical sigh, Aventurine carefully took off the ring, his voice playful yet firm. "If you keep this up, you'll ruin my reputation as the greatest gambler in the universe," he teased. "People will hear about the time I lost my ring to a toddler."

The twins giggled in perfect synchrony, their little voices harmonizing in the most innocent way yet having in their expressions mischief written. Perfect, the gamble paid off in the most wonderful of ways—though Aventurine would never admit how much a gamble fatherhood was truly.

As the boy squirmed closer now to pull at his father's choker, Aventurine couldn't resist. His usual wariness was forgotten in the glow of the moment, and he let them have their play. For the universe held no treasures to rival the joy he felt in their company.

"You little thieves," Aventurine laughed, hoisting the girl up onto his lap, her face breaking out into a grin that was at once his charm and her parent's warmth. The boy crawled up to his side, reaching for his father's face, as if trying to claim him entirely.

Aventurine’s heart fluttered again—this time, he didn’t even try to stop it. He was theirs, every last bit of him. And for once, he didn’t need to calculate the cost of that connection.

For this gamble, there was no risk at all.

[nicoleanell]

(actual link to gif set because tumblr's being weird)

Man it's the fact this statement is weirdly big and generous and brave in Armand's mind. I think it was Assad or someone else who said it was a moment of overconfidence or almost gloating, which is not the exact vibe I get, but I think there's something to that big-headedness of having survived and gotten through it and it's over now and just... He just wants to see. He just wants to skip that little stone down the cliff and see what happens. Maybe if nothing happens *then* he would actually be able to exhale. (He will not. He'd find something else. There's an itch in him that's never going to be secure enough in the bed he made.) Maybe it's just wanting to test something - Louis or himself or how many ways he can't die.

People tie it directly to Armand not being able to say the words in 2x05, which is probably intentional, but also it's not *exactly* the same because for one thing it's in the Past Tense now. It's very much meant as a moment of *closure* - he DID love you, past tense, we don't know where he is or how he feels now and that doesn't matter - while in San Francisco with Lestat right there on the mind telephone, it was the present tense terror that maybe that really was all Louis needed to hear to go running back to him.

But their relationship has also changed SO dramatically since San Francisco that it feels like even the past-tense version is a very, very precarious thing to admit. Because it's not about the material love triangle, it's not who-will-Bella-Swan-choose, it's about 70 years of mythmaking and storytelling.

SIDEBAR: The show left us IMO with a very frustrating ambiguity about the extent to which Armand has used his mind powers on Louis, like to the point where you have some fans believing that *every single fucking memory* we saw onscreen that they didn't like for the last two seasons is Fake News actually, and other fans believing it happened Just That One Time GOD. (I personally lean toward way *less* mind manipulation than other people assume, and if it was literally JUST the shit that happened in 1973 that's... enough to be messed up lol. I think the "love of my life" and finishing each other's sentences scenes have some unsettling implications. I *don't* think Louis having imperfect recall and limited perspective of stuff that happened a century ago is because of Armand all or even *most* of the time.)

But the fact no matter what is that Louis has a lot of cognitive dissonance around Lestat because he WANTS it acknowledged on some bone-deep level that Lestat loved him, because he loved/continues to love him too. And if we're gonna insist on throwing the word "gaslighting" around when we just mean "lying", then at the end of the day it's about Louis being told he's not crazy by someone who has at times made him feel that way.

Idk maybe this is me getting Too Deep about a finale I still think is kinda unsatisfying and already had way too much to do with Lestat and not enough with Claudia. But I do like that moment when I look past the toxic love triangle and more toward "hey buddy [my best friend Armand] why are you Like That" and Louis' little smile breaking my heart.

Something sad about that moment is Armand's right that saying those words *doesn't* end the world, and if nothing else had happened and Daniel and the Vampire CIA weren't on their divorce-attorney kick, that'd be the end of it. (Hot take I don't think saying the words or not in 1973 would've really made a difference either, and there's so much more nuanced and wild shit going on there than an undelivered message romcom beat.) And Louis would be *grateful* for that moment of understanding and closure between them.

[happily-wretched]

Midnight Snack <33

wtf, I literally just wrote a story with the same characters (Mark & Vincent). I kinda just use them as “bases” in case idk what character to use, or what character to make. So they can be in many different scenarios, they really have no exact story. I guess u could call them my little mascots :))

Anyway, this one is a more laidback version than the last one (oh jeez the last one) and has a more… realistic vibe to it. I’m honestly more into these, where you can practically relate to the whole scenario, and almost pinpoint a memory of this occurring to you. Umm, there is still NSFW content on this, but not as bad…….! I promise

Btw, this is kinda late, but here is some basic description on the characters themselves:

Mark:

• Nationality: British/Englishman and American + mild British accent

• Hair: Brown and loose

•Eyes: Green

•Age: 27

•Basic personality traits: Bit awkward, adventurous, polite, friendly, intelligent, and respectful, brave when he needs to be

Vincent:

•Nationality: British/Englishman + stronger accent

•Hair: Black and fluffy yet neat

•Eyes: Blue

•Age: 28

•Basic personality traits: Considerate (bit too much), very polite, extremely loving (only for Mark), easily amused, severely intelligent, can simply be intimidating if he desires

(Maybe I’ll draw them for better explanation)

Anyhoo, back to the story

Caution, this includes: Hunger (is satiated), lack of eating, exhaustion from starvation, arousal from hunger, masterbating to hunger, sex while hungry, fingering, prolonged starvation, mild teasing

It was another long, grueling day at the office. Mark had been stuck at his desk well past 5pm, as was becoming a regular occurrence lately. His stomach had been growling incessantly for hours, but there was just so much work to do. Finally, at nearly 10pm, he was able to pack up and head home, utterly exhausted and famished. 

The drive home was torture, his empty belly churning and rumbling the entire way. By the time he pulled into his driveway, it felt like his stomach was eating itself. Mark dragged himself out of the car and trudged up to his front door. As soon as he stepped inside, the growls from his midsection amplified, as if relieved to finally be home after such a long, arduous day.

rrrmmmmmhggglll

"Alright, alright, I'm home," Mark grumbled at his riotous stomach. "Let's see what meager rations we can scrounge up at this hour."

He flipped on the light and peeked into the fridge and cabinets. A few sad leftovers and some stale crackers was the best he could find. Mark sighed, knowing it would have to do. His stomach gurgled its protests but he ignored it, too burnt out to care. 

After a quick, unsatisfying snack, Mark decided he was too tired to do anything but collapse into bed. As he stripped out of his clothes, his stomach let out an especially loud, high-pitched whine. Mark patted his belly. "I know, buddy. We'll get some real food in the morning. Just try to quiet down and let me sleep."

He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, feeling the rumbling vibrations of his famished gut. It was a weirdly pleasant sensation, like having a little angry beast trapped inside him. Brushing it off, he grabbed his phone and put on white noise, to help him sleep. Eventually, Mark drifted off to sleep, his stomach still grumbling softly.

A few hours later, a loud sound from his phone startled Mark awake. He groggily reached for it, realizing it was a video that had ended and launched into something else, something much more obnoxious. As he sat up and rubbed his eyes, his stomach let out a massive, groaning growl. 

RRRRMMGGGGGGOORRRrrrrllRrr—rrrrmmmrr..

"Fuck..." he muttered, feeling the ache in his hollow belly. He rubbed his taut abs, which clenched and released, rippling slightly. Another loud rumble emanated from his stomach, followed by an uncomfortable high-pitched squeal. It felt like his stomach was twisted into agonized knots.

RRRRRUUMMMGGLLLllllrrrr…fiiiittTTTTZZZZZZzzzz

"Yeah, yeah... You're so damn loud, I get it," Mark grumbled to his noisy gut as he climbed out of bed. He shuffled to the bathroom, feeling lightheaded, his stomach audibly growling with each step. 

Rrrmm…ggrrrmmm…rr..

After relieving himself, Mark caught his reflection in the mirror - haggard, skinny, eyes bloodshot. His stomach let out another deep, groaning whine as he poked at it curiously, marveling at how sunken in he seemed. Mark sighed heavily. There was no satiating food in the house, and it was far too late to go out. He'd have to tough it out until morning.

As he turned away from the mirror, Mark paused. His stomach had been giving him all these strange, conflicting sensations - the grumbling vibrations, the nauseous knots, the aching emptiness. It was an intense, almost erotic feeling. Mark felt a stirring in his groin.

"I shouldn't..." he murmured, but his hand drifted down to his crotch regardless. He rubbed himself slowly as he listened to his stomach's deep rumbles, feeling them reverberate through his body. It was wrong, it was weird, but God it felt good.

Just as Mark's breathing quickened, he suddenly heard a voice from the doorway.

"Rough night?"

Mark nearly jumped out of his skin, snatching his hand away guiltily. He whirled around to see his boyfriend Vincent lounging in the doorframe, looking at him with concern.

"Hey babe, sorry... I was just so hungry… my stomach.. it woke me up," Mark mumbled, flushing. "I didn't mean to disturb you..."

Vincent pushed off the doorframe and came over, wrapping his arms around Mark's waist. "Mmm, you did more than disturb me. C'mere..."

He captured Mark's lips in a deep, loving kiss. Mark groaned into it, draping his arms over Vincent's shoulders as he pulled him flush against his body. Vincent's hands roamed down to Mark's ass, grabbing and kneading. Vincent was always like this when Mark was gone for even a little too long. He’d touch and love like he’ll never see him again. Mark's cock hardened rapidly against his stomach, which let out another long, rumbling growl.

RRRRRMMMGGGRROOORRRrrrr….

Vincent pulled back slightly, a grin playing on his lips as he felt the vibrations against his body. "Someone's hungry," he teased, rubbing Mark's concave belly.

Mark flushed more deeply, embarrassed by how loud and desperate his stomach sounded. "I haven't had anything since lunch," he admitted sheepishly.

"Well then, let's get you back to bed, shall we? I'll make it up to you, I promise," Vincent purred, nuzzling into Mark's neck.

Mark shivered at the promise in his voice. He let Vincent guide him back to the bedroom, crawling under the covers with him. Vincent wrapped himself around Mark's back, spooning him tightly against his body. 

As Mark lay there, he could feel every rumble and gurgle of his stomach vibrate through his entire torso. Vincent's fingers played over the taut, concave surface, gently massaging.

"Poor baby, so empty," Vincent cooed, dotting soft kisses along Mark's bare shoulder. He could feel how his touch made Mark shiver, his cock twitching against his thigh. "Tell me how hungry you are."

Mark swallowed, his mouth dry. "I...I'm starving," he admitted quietly. "It feels like I'm being eaten alive from the inside out."

"Mmm, I can hear that," Vincent murmured, running his nose along the shell of Mark's ear. "Your belly is so loud and demanding. It's almost like it wants attention."

Mark's face burned with embarrassment but he couldn't deny the truth of Vincent's words. His stomach growled again and he whimpered.

GRRMMGGULLLllrr…

"I know, I know," Vincent soothed, rubbing his stomach in lazy circles. "We'll get you all stuffed and full in the morning. But for now..."

He rolled Mark over to face him, hitching one of Mark's thighs over his hip. Mark gasped as he felt Vincent's erection rubbing against his own, still half-hard. Vincent captured his lips again, kissing him deeply. His hands drifted down Mark's sides, mapping his ribs, his concave belly, his hipbones.

Mark moaned into the kiss, his stomach rumbling and gurgling between them. Vincent swallowed the sound, plundering Mark's mouth with his tongue. Mark could feel his cock hardening again, straining against his stomach.

Vincent broke the kiss, panting. "God, you're so sexy like this," he rasped, drinking in the sight of Mark's wanton, needy face. "All debauched and desperate..."

"I'm not desperate," Mark protested weakly, even as his stomach gave a loud, painful sounding groan.

WWWRRRUMMBBLLLLGGRRrrr…

"Oh yes you are," Vincent purred, trailing his fingers down Mark's chest and along the ridges of his stomach. He could feel it clenching and fluttering under his touch, the muscle tone drastically defined from Mark's emptiness. 

Mark shuddered, his cock throbbing achingly now. Vincent wrapped a hand around it, giving a few slow pumps. Mark's head fell back with a strangled moan.

"Please," he gasped out, grinding into Vincent's touch. "I need..."

"I know," Vincent breathed, his own voice rough with want. He turned Mark onto his back and settled between his splayed thighs. Mark's stomach let out a shrill, high-pitched gurgle, the sound waves making his entire torso vibrate.

Vincent leaned down and placed a tender kiss to the center of Mark's concave belly. Mark whimpered, his body arching off the bed. Vincent licked a slow stripe up his belly, over his ribs, and up his sternum. Mark's skin prickled with goosebumps, his nipples pebbling under Vincent's wandering mouth.

Vincent made his way up Mark's neck to his lips, kissing him languidly as they began to rut together. Mark's stomach gurgled and whined with each roll of their hips, the sensations only heightening his desperate arousal.

After long moments of slow, deep kissing and grinding, Vincent reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for the lube. He slicked his fingers and circled Mark's tight entrance, teasing, before slowly breaching him.

Mark keened, his back bowing as Vincent worked him open. His stomach fluttered and growled, almost as if it was feeding off his pleasure. Vincent paused, looking down at Mark with concern.

"You okay, baby?" he checked.

Mark nodded, too breathless to speak. His stomach let out a low, gurgling moan as if it was trying to communicate something. Vincent smirked and started to move, sliding carefully into Mark's tight heat.

Mark nearly screamed, his head tossing on the pillow. Vincent set a tempo that had them rocking together, Mark's empty stomach gurgling with each deep thrust. It was a little painful, his body not used to going this long without food, but the pleasure overrode it.

Vincent kissed him messily as he snapped his hips, occasionally trailing fingers over Mark's concave belly. He could feel it twist and contract around his touch, could hear the sounds of hunger emanating from deep within it. It was intoxicating.

"I can feel your stomach," Vincent panted against Mark's lips. "It's so loud. Like it's hungry for more..."

Mark whined, his hands scrabbling over Vincent's back. His stomach let out a massive, groaning growl of assent, his body shuddering with the force of it. Vincent groaned in response, thrusting harder.

GRRRRRROOORRRGLLLLLRRRRRMMMRRRrrrrr…

They rocked together, lost in the slick slide of their bodies and the sounds of Mark's desperate stomach. The world narrowed down to this dance of pleasure and pain, hunger and satisfaction. 

Mark's belly let out a high-pitched squeal along with a bellowing roar, choppy and frantic sounding. He could feel his orgasm building, coiling tight in his gut alongside the gnawing emptiness. His hands flew to his stomach, rubbing frantically as his thighs began to tremble.

"Ah! Ah! I'm gonna-" Mark gasped out, his words cut off by a strangled cry as he came. His stomach let out a massive, gurgling groan, the vibrations almost violent as his cock pulsed over his fingers.

GGRRUUUUGGLLLEEGGLLL…

Vincent followed him over the edge with a low moan, spilling himself deep inside Mark's fluttering heat. He collapsed against Mark's chest, both of them gasping for air. Mark's stomach let out a few last tired gurgles before falling silent.

gurgglll.. wmmm… Rrrr…

They lay there for long moments, sweat cooling on their skin, hearts gradually steadying. Finally, Vincent heaved himself up and took Mark's face in his hands.

"God, that was hot," he said, eyes roaming over Mark's face. "You okay? I didn't hurt you?"

Mark shook his head tiredly. "Nngh. I'm better than okay. That was..."

He trailed off, searching for words. Vincent leaned down and kissed him softly, tenderly.

"Shhh, I know. Sleep now, love. I'll take care of you in the morning," he murmured, carefully disentangling their bodies and rolling to the side. He pulled Mark's back against his chest, draping an arm over his waist.

Mark immediately started to doze, his stomach already quieter now that he'd been satisfied in other ways. He felt safe, cherished, as Vincent's arms encircled him.

As he drifted off, Mark's last thought was that as much as his body craved food, his heart craved this. Craved Vincent's comforting presence, his tender care. Everything else could wait. For now, he was content.

~~~~

The next morning, Mark cracked his eyes open groggily, disoriented. Then his stomach let out a massive, agonized growl and it all came rushing back - the events of the night before, the pleasure and the pain. He rolled over to find Vincent's side of the bed empty.

RRRRRRRMMMMGGULLLLLL

He stumbled out of bed, feeling dizzy and unsteady on his feet. In the kitchen, he found Vincent already up and cooking. The scent of bacon and eggs made Mark's stomach clench and whimper.

"Morning sleepyhead," Vincent greeted him cheerfully, turning to pull him into a hug. "Ready for some food, I bet?"

Mark could only groan in response, clutching at his stomach as it gurgled and whined. Vincent chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I thought you might be. Sit, I've got you."

Mark collapsed into a chair, kneading his concave belly as he watched Vincent work. His stomach growled and rumbled audibly the entire time, as if impatient for the meal. Vincent shot him amused glances over his shoulder.

"Almost ready, baby. Just hold on a bit longer," he cooed.

Finally, Vincent set a heaping plate of food in front of Mark. The sight and smell made Mark's stomach lurch, a massive gurgle emanating from it. Vincent laughed and sat down across from him.

"Go on, dig in. I know you must be famished after last night," he said meaningfully, eyes twinkling.

Mark blushed but wasted no time scooping up a forkful of eggs. The first bite exploded across his tongue and he let out a low moan, his stomach letting out an answering groan of anticipation.

Ggrrrrmmmgulll

He ate ravenously, shoveling food in his mouth until his cheeks bulged. His stomach gurgled and rumbled constantly, the sounds mixing with the wet smacking of his eating. Vincent watched him with an indulgent smile, occasionally reaching over to press a tender kiss to his cheek.

Mark finished off the last bite and set his fork down with a satisfied sigh. His stomach let out a full, contented little burble and he rubbed it happily.

Bbburrrrrrggull

"Thanks babe," he said, leaning over to kiss Vincent cheekily. "You're a lifesaver."

"I know," Vincent said smugly, pulling Mark close. "Now, what else can I do for you? Anything else I can fill up?"

Mark shivered at the suggestive promise in his voice, feeling stirrings of renewed want. His stomach gurgled, as if in interest.

gurrgglll

"Oh I can think of a few things," Mark purred, already knowing they'd end up back in bed for round two.

But first, he wanted to savor this moment - him and Vincent, sated and happy, safe and together. Everything else could wait. For now, he was exactly where he needed to be.

UGHHHH, I suck at writing sounds. I know it’s ass, it’s my first time :(

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[j-esbian]

maybe the real voltron was the friends we made along the way

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[vehemourn]

went to post this on twitter but i didnt wanna get banned . crazy that u can scrape my entire lifes work and i cant even tell u to die over it <3

[spideyhexx]

feel like some people don’t comprehend that partially the point of tbosas is that you can sympathize with Coryo. It never excuses his actions nor does it try to, but it’s way more complicated than Coryo just being ‘psycho’

[yardsards]

"they never dated but they ARE exes" is such a funny relationship for two characters to have. very awkward relationship to have irl tho

[britneyshakespeare]

I think everyone wants to own a complete works of Shakespeare and I want to get everyone a complete works of Shakespeare that is right for them

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[sskk-manifesto]

Next time we should just skip over ep 3 and do a chapters 84-87 reread

[formal-frog-shoes]

Twiststuck stuff i just wanna get out

Im a huge Cater multi-shipper

Normally this wouldn't be a problem

BUT I CAN'T HAVE ALMOST EVERYONE IN THIS AU HAVE A FLUSH OR PALE CRUSH ON HIM THAT'S ABSURD!!!

[angelstrawbabie420]

grief will have you saying shit like goddamn and fuck maybe the abuse was worth it