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livebeforeyoulearn · 2 days ago

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All of Me Is for All of You

Warnings: angst?? smut, 18+

Word count: 3.7k

Request (tweaked it slightly hope you don’t mind!)

Alexia and you are the perfect pair. Sure, there are arguments now and then, what couple doesn’t have those? But deep down, it feels like fate brought you together, like you were always meant to be. You met through mutual friends and clicked instantly, the kind of connection people dream about. Now, years later, your lives are so intertwined that it feels like you’ve become part of each other’s world in every possible way. You wouldn’t call it codependency, but sometimes it feels that way. When she’s away for games, the days stretch unbearably long. But when she’s home, when she’s in your arms, just there, everything feels right with the world. A glance, a touch, a shared silence is enough. You are hers as much as she is yours, and that kind of belonging is rare.

But there’s one shadow on your happiness; her ex, Jenni. It’s not the fact that they dated, that’s ancient history, water under the bridge. What gnaws at you is what Jenni did to Alexia. When Alexia finally told you the whole story of why they broke up, you couldn’t hold back your anger. You don’t just dislike Jenni – you want absolutely nothing to do with her, to keep her at arm’s length for eternity. Alexia, always the diplomat, tries to downplay it, brushing it off with a casual shrug. But you know better. You can see the flicker of pain in her eyes when she talks about it.

Even now, Alexia and Jenni are close. Too close, maybe. You remind yourself it’s not about jealousy. You trust Alexia, and you know they’ve been through so much together, things most people wouldn’t understand. Still, when you watched them during the World Cup, practically joined at the hip, something in your chest tightened. But Alexia explained it all to you. The federation’s mess fucked with them all, and they needed to come together, to be there for each other to survive it. You wanted to believe her, and for the most part, you did. After all, Alexia is your person, and you’re hers.

–

Your pinky links with Alexia’s as you walk through the restaurant doors. The noise of clinking glasses and overlapping conversations fills the air as she guides you through the crowded tables, weaving effortlessly until she spots her friends gathered at a large table near the back. Smiles and greetings are exchanged, hugs shared, and soon you’re settling into seats near the end of the table, side by side.

The evening starts off perfectly. The food is delicious, and the conversation flows effortlessly. You’ve always enjoyed being with Alexia’s friends, they feel like family, a circle you’re grateful to be part of. Laughter bounces around the table, stories are shared, and everything feels light and easy.

Then Patri, seated directly across from Alexia, changes the tone with a single question. “Alexia, did you hear from Jenni? Is she coming?”

“Yeah, she said she could make it,” Alexia replies with a small smile, taking a sip from her glass.

The words catch you off guard. Your mouth parts slightly as your eyes dart between the two women. “Coming to what?” you ask.

Alexia doesn’t look at you. Her expression remains carefully neutral, her eyes fixed on the table as she avoids your gaze. You glance at Patri, silently hoping for clarification. Unaware of the feelings building inside you, she answers, “The vacation! Jenni’s joining us for the trip.”

The revelation hits hard. You sit up straighter, pulling away from the relaxed posture you’d had moments ago. Alexia already knows she’s in trouble – you can see it in the expression on her face. And then it clicks; she’s known this for a while.

It isn’t Jenni’s presence that angers you most – you could have tolerated her, ignored her, and still managed to enjoy yourself. What hurts is that Alexia knew and chose not to tell you. She didn’t give you a chance to talk about it, to process it together. You could have reasoned with her, but she robbed you of that chance.

Alexia leans back in her chair, her fingers nervously toying with the rim of her glass as she waits for your reaction. When it doesn’t come right away, she slumps further, clearly anxious. She thought she could let this slide, brush it off as “not a big deal” and deal with it later. She was wrong.

Patri senses the mood changing. Though she doesn’t directly address the tension, she changes the subject and starts talking more in-depth with Alexia about Jenni’s travel plans. At first, you try to tune out the conversation, not wanting to let your irritation show in front of everyone. But Patri presses on, unknowingly unravelling the truth.

“When did Jenni confirm? I thought she wasn’t sure about her schedule,” Patri asks, leaning forwards.

Alexia hesitates, her response slower than usual. “She told me a while ago. She just wasn’t certain at first.”

A while ago. She’s known for weeks, maybe even months. Your mind starts to spiral. If she didn’t tell you about this, what else has she been keeping from you? Was she afraid of your reaction? Or worse, does she not trust you enough to have an honest conversation?

By the end of dinner, you’re barely holding it together. You mumble quick goodbyes, eager to escape the suffocating weight of your thoughts. Alexia follows you out of the restaurant, her steps hesitant, her silence heavy.

The walk to the car feels longer than it is. When you climb inside, you buckle your seatbelt, cross your arms, and stare out the window, avoiding her entirely. Alexia slides into the driver’s seat, closing the door softly. She buckles herself in but doesn’t start the car right away.

“Please, don’t be like that,” she says finally, her voice almost pleading as she rubs her temples.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, shaking your head as she starts the car and backs out of the parking space.

“I wasn’t hiding it. I was going to tell you,” she says firmly, though her tone is careful, her eyes flicking towards you nervously.

“Oh, sure. When? When we’re boarding the plane? Or maybe when she’s already sitting next to you on the beach?”

“You’re being so dramatic. It’s not a big deal. We’re just friends,” she says, her voice rising slightly.

“Dramatic?” you snap, turning to face her. “You deliberately didn’t tell me something you knew would upset me!”

“Why are you making this such a big deal?” she counters, her frustration evident as she glances at you.

“Because it is a big deal! But, of course, my feelings don’t matter, right? As long as you and Jenni are happy,” you reply bitterly. You clench your jaw, your gaze returning to the window.

“That’s not fair,” she says sharply, her tone demanding as though her words alone should convince you to drop it.

“What’s not fair is you keeping things from me!” you fire back. “You knew how I’d feel, and you still didn’t say a thing. Not one word!”

“Because I knew you’d overreact like this!” she snaps, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

You scoff, choosing to ignore whatever else she has to say. The fact that she chose to hide this from you is a betrayal you can’t quite shake. You’re partners, communication should be the cornerstone of your relationship, the one thing you could always count on. You thought she trusted you enough to talk about things like this, to be open and honest no matter the circumstances. The anger that first surged through you has ebbed now, leaving behind a more painful ache. It’s not just the omission that hurts; it’s the way it feels like she didn’t think you could handle the truth.

When you arrive home, you unbuckle yourself quickly and, in a petty flourish, slam the car door shut. You know how much it annoys Alexia, that’s precisely why you do it. After the night you’ve had, she deserves to feel a sliver of the irritation that’s inside you.

“Don’t slam my door,” she calls after you, her voice clipped. You ignore her, heading straight for the elevator. The doors nearly close on her, but she slides her hand between them just in time, glaring as she steps in beside you. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters under her breath.

“What’s ridiculous is me finding out about your secret vacation plans. At dinner. With your friends!” Incredulity laces your voice.

“It wasn’t a secret. I told you–”

“Nothing! You told me nothing, Alexia,” you cut her off.

“Because I didn’t want to deal with this exact situation!” she counters, her tone rising, her words bouncing off the elevator walls.

The elevator pings open, and you step out, “Well, congrats. Now you’re dealing with it. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Alexia, helplessly trailing behind you, starts rambling, her voice rising with excuses you have no patience for. You ignore her completely, the words flowing out of her like nonsense that you can’t be bothered to absorb. As you dig through your pockets for the keys, you can feel your frustration heightening with each passing second. It's a perfect, almost satisfying moment when you finally find them and stand in front of your door.

Once it swings open, you make a beeline for the kitchen, the need for a glass of wine urgent. Alexia follows you, naturally. As much as you love her and her presence, right now, all you want is some space. But you know her too well. She won’t give you that, not until this is somehow resolved.

You grab the wine bottle and twist it open, holding the glass in your other hand, your fingers lightly cupping its base. As you tilt the bottle, the deep red liquid pours smoothly into the glass, filling it just enough to satisfy your need. The bottle returns to its place, and you bring the glass to your lips, taking a deep breath before you sip.

Behind you, Alexia exhales audibly. You turn, shooting her a glare, your patience already thin. She inches closer, the gears turning in her head as she processes your silence. Her eyes narrow before that damn smirk slowly spreads across her face.

Does she think this is funny?

You lower your glass slightly as she steps closer, but when her hand reaches for it, you pull it out of her grasp and take another sip, just to spite her. Her smirk widens at your defiance, her dark eyes sparkling with something teasing.

“Are you… jealous?” she asks, her voice lilting with amusement.

“Jealous?” you repeat, incredulous. The idea offends you. How could she think this was jealousy? All you wanted was respect and trust from your girlfriend. “What the fuck? No. Why would I be jealous of Jenni?”

Her voice raises again, her smirk disappearing, “If you’re not jealous, then why are you so mad about her coming? You blow everything out of proportion. Every single time.”

“Because when you’re around her, it’s like I don’t exist. All you care about is Jenni, Jenni, Jenni, and did you forget what she did to you?” The words come out before you can stop them.

Her hands find your hips, the heat of her touch seeping through your clothes and silencing your words. Your mind stumbles, the argument dimming as your cheeks burn under her gaze.

“You are jealous,” she murmurs, her voice steady as her thumbs brush over your sides, ignoring the question.

“No, I’m not,” you protest, but your voice falters, betraying your doubt. A nervous gulp follows, and she hums, the vibration visible in her throat as she leans closer.

Alexia knows you, maybe even better than you know yourself. What if she’s right? What if this ache in your chest isn’t just hurt or betrayal but jealousy you’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge?

“I’m yours. You’re mine. That’s all I want in life,” she says softly, her voice breaking through your spiralling thoughts. One hand reaches for the glass, and this time, you let her take it, watching as she places it on the counter behind you. Her gaze locks with yours again. “There’s no need to be jealous. She’s nothing compared to you.”

Your heart beats in your chest like a moth under a dome of glass. The way she looks at you is intoxicating and you can’t find the will to look away.

“So show me,” you whisper, your voice is barely audible. Her face hovers close enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath against your cheek.

She isn’t gentle when she leans in to kiss you; her lips latch onto yours with fervent intensity. She’s hot and she’s messy. Her urgency shows with the way her hands roam over your body with a sense of desperation, as if she’s discovering you for the first time and cherishing you like it’s the last.

Her fingers grope at your chest before sliding over your shoulders and down your back, settling on your ass, where she gives a firm squeeze. Then, without hesitation, she lifts you. You instinctively jump, wrapping your legs tightly around her waist and your arms around her shoulders, one hand cupping the back of her head to keep her impossibly close.

She carries you blindly towards the bedroom, her movements hurried as if every second counts. Your mouths remain fused, the connection deepening as her tongue slips past your lips, licking into your mouth with an eagerness that takes your breath away. You gasp softly in surprise, parting your lips further to make it easier for her.

When you reach the bedroom, she throws you onto the bed roughly, her chest heaving as she steps back to take you in. Her eyes, dark with lust, rake over you while her tongue slides along her bottom lip. She looks at you as if she’s cataloging every possibility, silently deciding how to make you feel everything – loved, wanted, needed, hers.

“Get undressed,” she commands, her tone brooking no argument.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you quickly comply, unsure of what might happen if you didn’t. As the last piece of clothing falls away, you recline on the bed, your eyes never leaving her as she moves to the drawer where you keep your things.

She strips off her remaining clothes, the sight leaving you breathless. When she steps into the harness, pulling it up over her toned legs and adjusting it around her waist, your mouth goes dry. Each second of her not touching you feels torturous, your craving for her becoming unbearable.

She starts making her way back to you, your eyes drawn to her toned torso and the perfect curve of her breasts.

Instinctively, you press your thighs together, the ache between them becoming too much to ignore. As she crawls onto the bed, you lift your knees slightly, seeking some kind of relief. But she’s quick to act, placing her palms firmly on your knees and forcing them apart. The sudden motion has you gasping, though the sound is swallowed as her lips crash against yours.

The kiss is intense and demanding. It’s all teeth and tongues colliding, lips biting, and breaths mingling in a heated clash for dominance. Your head sinks deeper into the pillow as her hands trail up your thighs, her fingertips gathering the evidence of your desire and spreading it deliberately along the tops of your thighs. Her lips curl into a smirk against yours, her confidence radiating as she revels in how easily she can unravel you.

She pulls back slightly, her teeth catching your bottom lip and releasing it with a snap. Before you can catch your breath, she finds a heartbeat to put her lips to in the crook of your neck. Your head tilts back, granting her access, and a needy whimper escapes your throat.

A finger slides through your core, teasing your entrance before gliding upwards to begin harsh, tight circles on your clit. You moan, her name escaping your lips like a whispered mantra, repeated again and again in the air.

Your hips start to buck in response, but the sensation isn’t enough, you need more, all of her. “Ale, please,” you gasp. She grunts against your neck, nipping at the bruised, sensitive skin before lifting herself slightly, leaving a sting in her wake. She runs the toy through your slickness, coating it before pressing the tip teasingly against you.

“What do you want?” she asks, a smirk tugging at her lips as her eyes meet yours. The control she wields over you is absolute.

“You,” you breathe.

She bites her lip, tilting her head slightly.

“I need you inside me,” you plead, knowing it’s exactly what she wants to hear. “Please, Alexia.”

Her smirk widens, dripping with pride, before she pushes the tip inside. The stretch is intense, your body adjusting quickly as she didn’t take the time to prep you with her fingers. Her thrusts begin slow but quickly build in rhythm, and before long, the entire length fills you with every movement, driving deeper each time.

Alexia’s hands move to your breasts, squeezing them firmly as her gaze stays locked on your face, watching you arch into her touch. Your head falls back, your eyes shut tight, your body radiating pure bliss.

She grunts with each thrust, her hips snapping against yours in a perfectly timed rhythm. You match her movements, rolling your hips to meet her, the sensation intensifying with each stroke. That familiar tightening in your stomach grows stronger, signalling your impending release.

Just as you’re about to tip over the edge, she stops. You let out a breathless whine, eyes flying open to meet her steady gaze. Slowly, she pulls out and settles beside you.

“Get on top,” she orders.

“What?” you stammer, momentarily confused, until she takes your arm and helps you up. Your legs tremble as you straddle her hips. Her hands steady you as you position yourself, the toy poised at your entrance, before you lower yourself down.

“Ride me like I’m yours.”

The words alone almost draw a moan from you. Her hands glide over your thighs, squeezing lightly, before moving up and around to your ass. She grabs hold, helping lift and guide you as you begin to bounce along her length. Your own hands find purchase on her thighs behind you, bracing yourself as your hips set a heady rhythm.

Her expression is intoxicating, a sight you want permanently etched into your memory. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her head tilting slightly as if she’s losing herself in the connection between your bodies. A moan builds in her throat, but she traps it behind her teeth, biting her lip as she tightens her hold on you and urges your movements faster.

“Fuck, Ale, oh my god,” you gasp, leaning forwards and pressing your palms against her abs for balance. Your nails dig into the defined ridges of her muscles as she begins to meet your pace, her hips rolling into you.

At first, the pace remains controlled, giving you time to adjust to the sensation of being on top. But soon, her hands find your waist, her grip firm enough to promise marks tomorrow. Then she takes over completely, thrusting into you with an intensity that makes you cry out.

Her movements become relentless – harder, faster, deeper than you thought possible. It’s primal, raw, and consuming, her strength evident in every powerful thrust as her legs and core drive her into you.

“Don’t stop,” you manage to moan, your voice catching in your throat. “Please, don’t stop, Ale.” Your head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar tension builds in your lower stomach, the knot tightening with every thrust. Your back arches prettily, drawing Alexia’s gaze to your chest. She aches to lean up and take your nipples into her mouth but instead drinks in the sight of you, undone and lost in her touch.

“You close, mi amor?” she rasps, lost in desire.

“Yes, Ale, so close,” you whimper, your moans growing louder, more desperate, a sound that defies words.

“You wanna come?” she asks, her tone teasingly questioning. You hum in reply, nodding weakly. “Go ahead, amor,” she murmurs, her voice softening unexpectedly, catching you off guard.

Your fingers curl, nails digging into her skin and leaving crescent-shaped imprints as you cry out her name, your voice breathless and broken as wave after wave crashes over you. She holds you down firmly, not letting you move as she keeps rolling her hips, guiding you through the peak.

It’s powerful, stealing every coherent thought, leaving you lost in ecstasy for what feels like an eternity before it begins to ebb and you regain awareness of your body.

Her knees provide support against your back, her thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your skin. She sits up, brushing strands of hair away from your face before burying her head in your neck. Her lips trail tender kisses along your skin, your collarbone, shoulder, jawline, and just beneath your ear, before finally returning to your lips.

Your breaths come heavy, but your arms instinctively wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“I love you, and only you, mi amor. All of me is for all of you,” she whispers against your lips.

You lean in to kiss her again, then she rolls you onto your back, positioning herself once more between your legs.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas smut #alexia x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader

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olive-main · 1 day ago

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oooo if you’re interested would love to see your take: reader is Azriel’s mate, nobody knows. The inner circle keeps trying to set him up with females (including Elaine & Gwyn). They like reader but don’t view her as an option for being his partner. Lots of angst, she’s hurting, she overhears them saying she’s not an option for him. Up to you what happens for her and Azriel. Loved your last story, and that you wanted more angst ideas!! And if this isn’t what you’re looking for, all good!

Between Us Alone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s mate overhears a conversation that shakes her confidence in their hidden bond, but he reminds her that love, even in shadows, is unbreakable.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Annndddd welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming. This time I come with the gift of some fluff (with angst ofc bcs duh—who do y’all think I am?) Enjoy the happy endings while they last…..evil laugh

——

The corridors of the House of Wind were quiet, save for the faint hum of conversation that drifted from Rhysand’s office. You’d gone looking for Azriel, hoping he might steal away from his “boys’ night” early and join you at your shared apartment.

A secret, the two of you. Hidden in plain sight. Quite fitting for Rhysand’s spymasters.

It was exhilarating at first—the quiet smiles across rooms, the fleeting brushes of hands, and the stolen glances when no one else was looking. But there were cracks now, small fissures of insecurity that made you wonder if keeping the bond private had been the right choice.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared Rhys’s office, voices clear now, though you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were about to knock when you caught the sound of Cassian’s boisterous laughter.

“Oh, come on, Az,” Cassian said, his tone teasing. “You’ve been spending all that time with Gwyn. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Gwyn’s sweet,” Rhysand added. “And she clearly enjoys your company. You’d make a good pair.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel’s reply was quieter, almost unreadable. “Gwyn is a friend. I’m not looking for… that.”

Cassian scoffed. “You say that now, but it’s been centuries, Az. When was the last time you even tried to let someone in? Gwyn’s perfect for you—kind, strong, clever. She gets you.”

“She’s not the only option,” Rhys said smoothly. “There are others. Nesta’s mentioned a few priestesses who would be good matches.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “There’s also Y/N.”

You pressed your hand to the doorframe, your breaths shallow as you heard Cassian say your name.

“No, I don’t see them together. They rarely speak to each other outside of missions and a few shared words at dinners.” Rhysand says with a shake of his head as if the thought of you and Azriel together was the most unlikely thing he could think of.

You shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have listened, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to hurt you—you knew that. You’d always been on the periphery of their circle, a friend but never a true equal in their eyes. Azriel’s shadows had been your sanctuary, his quiet love a solace you cherished.

But to hear them speak so casually, as if you weren’t even a possibility…

Azriel’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. I can handle my own life.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cassian said, clearly amused.

“Drop it,” Azriel snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent after that, but the damage was done. You turned and fled, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step.

—

The space you shared with Azriel was small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Velaris where no one thought to look. It was your haven, the only place you could truly be yourselves without prying eyes or whispered questions.

But tonight, it felt suffocating.

You sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as the doubts clawed at your mind.

This charade was necessary. You both knew that. If they ever found out you and Azriel had been together for months—years, now—it would complicate everything. Not just for him, but for you.

As Azriel’s partner, you worked in the shadows as he did, your work as vital and delicate as his own. Secrecy was second nature to you both, and you’d agreed early on that revealing your bond—to anyone—was too risky.

You’d thought you could handle it. But moments like this, when they talked about Azriel’s love life like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t his, made you question how much more you could endure.

You told yourself it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d even told them to stop. But the weight of their words lingered, stirring fears you’d tried so hard to bury.

What if they were right? What if Azriel deserved someone like Gwyn, someone who could stand beside him without the need for secrecy?

You didn’t hear the front door open, too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar sound of Azriel’s footsteps until he was standing in front of you.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately, his hazel eyes scanning your face. His shadows swirled around him, restless and sharp. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

His brow furrowed, and he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You looked away, your throat tightening as you tried to hold back tears.

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I went to Rhys’s office,” you admitted quietly. “I was going to find you, but… I heard you all talking.”

Azriel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What did you hear?” He already knew. There was only one part of the conversation that could’ve had you so distraught.

You swallowed hard. “They… they were trying to set you up with someone. Gwyn, mostly. Rhys mentioned others.” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “They said I wasn’t even an option.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter around him.

“They didn’t mean it to hurt me, I know that” you added quickly, seeing how Azriel was ready to go back and pummel his brothers. “They don’t know about us. But… it still hurt.”

He exhaled sharply, standing and pacing the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “They had no right—”

“They care about you,” you interrupted. “They want you to be happy. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone like Gwyn. Someone who—”

“Stop.”

The word was a command, sharp and unyielding. Azriel crossed the room in an instant, kneeling before you again. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare doubt this,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare doubt us.”

Tears spilled over, and he reached up to brush them away, his touch achingly tender.

“You are my mate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You. Not Gwyn, not anyone else. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”

“But they—”

“They’re idiots,” he said flatly. “I’ll deal with them. But don’t let their ignorance make you doubt what we have.”

You searched his face, finding only unwavering certainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softening. “More than I thought I was capable of. And I don’t care if they don’t see it. I see it. I feel it.”

A broken laugh escaped you, relief washing over you like a tide. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought keeping the bond private would protect us, but if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not,” you said quickly. “Not really. I just… I needed to hear this. To hear you.”

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours. “You’ll never have to doubt me again.”

——

Aren’t they just so sweet *sigh*. Thank you for reading <3

Requests are still open ;)

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thebestandworstdayofjune · 2 days ago

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clark kent loves quietly

This is a collection of head canons I wrote with David!Clark in mind, but would really work for any Clark iteration. That teaser trailer did something to my brain

He knows that you hate being spooked, and his quiet footfalls have gotten the better of you more times than you would ever admit. When he comes home from a day of work, or finds you tucked into whatever you are working on, he purposefully makes sure that his footfalls are heavy, so that you hear him coming. You jump slightly when he notches his chin in the space between your head and shoulder, but he is quick to squeeze you tight and soothe them away.

You would think that he tries to fight your battles for you, protection hard wired into his veins. But he’s much the opposite. He knows that you can take care of yourself (super-human threats excluded, of course) and is happy to watch you stand up for yourself. It’s nice to see you love yourself loudly by making your wishes known.

This man can cook. He spent a lot of time with his mom in the kitchen, who used cooking to cope after his father passed. He absorbed every second of it, intent on making the memories last. Food is one of his love languages now. He will pick up your favorites if he is eating out, but when you are having a particularly hard day, he plops you down on the couch with your beverage of choice in hand, and insists you don’t move. You had assumed that cooking would be frustrating for him, all the super speed in the world can’t make onions caramelize faster, but he finds it so soothing- especially when he knows that you’re going to give him one of your big smiles, the kind saved just for him, at the end of it all. His specialties are casseroles and chilis and his mom’s fluffy biscuits, if you were wondering.

Does his best to mind his business (keeping his super hearing off the speed of your heart) as long as you promise to let him know what is bothering you as soon as you’re comfortable. He hates to see you hurting, but also respects that sometimes you need to process on your own. It’s unspoken between the two of you, you’ll curl up with him when you’re ready and spill your guts, and he will have a super powered ear at the ready.

Any of your accomplishments are office gossip for weeks, because he is telling everyone. A picture of you with the degree you finished several months into dating is framed on his desk, when you accept his proposal he finds ways to slip it into most conversations. You always blush, which fills him with pride. He insists it isn’t gossiping if it’s talking about yourself. You smile and resist the urge to point out that it is often more so about you. He views you as a singular unit in all things, and you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Clark was simultaneously terrified when you figured out that he was the one flying around the city fighting super humans (and rescuing the occasional cat stuck in a tree), and not the least bit surprised. He has long considered you one of the smartest people that he has ever known. He chides himself for not preparing for it better. He stood speechless for several moments, before tripping over his words, a muddled confusion of explanation and apology. He calmed when you smiled shyly at him, approaching him like he might spook at any minute. He stilled, allowing you to take control of the situation and gently slip your hand into his. You squeezed, he squeezed back, and the rest was history.

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snapdougles · 2 days ago

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okay so I'm gonna try keep this brief so I'm not here forever, but here's the thing, this isn't new, actually people have tried using computers for therapy since the 60s:

Meet ELIZA

ELIZA is a simple computer program that responds to questions it is asked in a way meant to emulate a therapist, it did this so well, even it's creator was concerned at how quickly people started to empathize with it and consider it to not be a machine but a sentient being.

Humans are really good at recognising human like traits, and latching on to them, we decide that things with traits like us, are humanlike like us, similiarly, things that lack those human traits, will have their humanlikeness diminished.

This is great at finding likeminded tribes, terrible at identifying any sort of truth though.

To start my next point, I'm just gonna preface it with yeah therapy is good, therapists are good, it's not an easy job, and therapy with a person probably better than with an 'AI', but saying 'bots' (i don't think AI is the right description here,) can't help is just not correct, as measurably, they can, and do.

One of the advantages of therapy is having someone to prompt you to think in ways that you aren't used to, therapists can't peer magically into peoples minds, they are prompting the patient to express their experience, and try to help them to realize things they might not be aware of

"And how does that make you feel?"

Immediate follow up, obviously therapists do way more than this, this isn't gonna help everyone, and it isn't gonna automatically solve problems, but a lot of the time people just need help reframing issues into terms that they can understand and deal with, and bots can help with that.

Whether you think this is good/bad, right/wrong or useful at all is up to you, but ruling it out as being non-functional because "ai bad" is bad praxis.

sources:

guys. please

#i hate how buzzwordy everything is nowaways jeez #“oh it uses AI? Must be bad don't use it”#ELIZA #and again let's reiterate #a bot won't have the experience or competence to deal with everyone's problems #but a lot of peoples problems are simpler than they realize and having an external agent to interact with is enough to figure it out

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noxlotl · 2 days ago

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Art style breakdown /tutorial(??)

Some friends asked so here we go : disclaimer im bad at explaining (so feel free to send an ask or smth)

Final art (long read so theres a timelapse at the end)

If its not for something important (commissions), i dont usually make a lineart for a drawing but just clean up the sketch , it wont be used anyway

I usually separate them by colors , mostly so i can Alpha lock them and not worry about coloring over parts

When coloring i use a soft airbrush to have gradients within the shading , so its not one solid color . How i shade is very blocky , lots of triangles lol (if im using CSP i love using the lasso fill tool ) but there are parts especially in the skin where I keep it smooth and blended, usually nose and cheek area . Using an asaro head is usually a good start to learning how to shade faces with planes in mind

Depends on the character, but I like adding shadows on the lashes/brows itself , make it look solid and 3d , it makes the eyes pop more imo

Using multiply layer to make the shadows darker for more contrast

At some point I’d merge everything together so i can just paint in one layer, easier to fix things with liquify too ; if im in CSP i keep the separate layers in one folder just in case i need em later but i cant really do that in Procreate cos of layer limits

This is the part where i make the shading more painterly .,To make the shading look sharper , i like adding lines on the edges .

The fun part : adding the ✨

This is the part where I add textures , either from texture images or with screentone/hatching brushes. This is also around the part where i add the character’s accessories and stuff like scars and freckles (its just easier to add smaller things near the end than having them accidentally painted over at the start)

Whenever I feel like the drawing looks too much of a similar shade / temperature , I use a gradient map+layer effects (masked) on parts to give it variety . Technically you can do this by just having a layer effect on and manually adding colors but gradient maps make me go “ooooh didnt think of that color there “

CSP also has a posterization filter that i like using when i feel like some part looks too smooth to me.

I sometimes add in sketchy lines , and seeing how cool it looks in Marvel Rivals art ive been adding it more lol

Artists that influenced me are : Nesskain, Toni Infante , Valorant’s 2d art(their main artist is Suke) ,Arcane , Spiderverse and the most recent one ive been obsessing over is Marvel Rivals ( its got everything i want my art to be when it grows older lmao )

#nox talks #asks #artsu #akoa #art tutorial #art breakdown

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whateversawesome · 3 days ago

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Spy x Family Ch. 108: Fear

Don't get me wrong, that panel with Twilight remembering his friends was beautiful. I think he feels nostalgic for that connection with other people. However, I think what really caught my attention in this chapter was Melinda.

Come on, look at this:

Look at this face of terror. And she was just remembering her husband's eyes!

A long time ago, when we just met Melinda, I wrote this theory about her being afraid of her husband. Today, it was finally confirmed.

I feel so sad for her. Melinda has probably been carrying this alone for a long time. I doubt she's shared her fears with any friends or family members because, who would believe the illustrious political leader could be an abusive man? This is especially true if there's no actual physical violence in the relationship. However, like I said before, violence is more than that.

Something tells me that the violence in their relationship is mostly psychological. Donovan Desmond uses his authority to tell Melinda what to do, to create fear, to keep her away from their children.

Melinda appears as such a composed woman who has her life together in front of others, and only someone as emotionally perceptive and caring as Yor would notice something is wrong. There's a shame component in abusive relationships: "How did this happen to me? I used to be so strong and brave," combined with disbelief: "Am I overreacting? Is he really that bad? Why am I afraid of him if he hasn't really done anything to me?"

Hopefully, in time, Melinda will realize that fear is not only her responsibility; even if her husband wasn't physically abusive, his behavior caused her fear.

Without a doubt is a complicated issue, which brings me to something that will probably complicate things even more:

Yup, Twilight.

I'll admit that this is the first time that I felt very uncomfortable with what Twilight is about to do, but that's exactly the point. Good fiction/literature is suppose to move something within us, even if at times, it makes us feel uncomfortable.

You probably imagine why: Melinda is a person in dire need of therapy. She deserves (and needs!) a true professional and instead, she getting someone who is only trying to gather information.

HOWEVER...

Time and again, Twilight has shown that despite his line of work, he'll always try to do the right thing and the least amount of harm. So, I'm hoping he will apply that in this specific situation. My guess is that it will start as a way to get information (his classic "for the mission") but then, as Melinda opens up, he will actually give her good advice and hopefully empower her, as a real therapist would do!

Something else to keep in mind is that Melinda story of domestic violence could trigger Twilight himself in some way, given his own family history. We will have to wait to see how that goes.

Bonus

A final note on Melinda's beliefs in occultism: it makes sense.

I won't comment too much on the specific meaning of the cards because my knowledge is limited and I'm skeptical about that. But I will say that it makes sense that someone with so much fear and uncertainty in her life would believe in something that would bring her reassurance that everything will be okay or try to know the future in order to protect herself. (I really want to give Melinda a hug.)

On the other hand, you know who doesn't believe in that?:

Yup, our dear Becky, who is one of the most authentic character in sxf, who is protected and loved by her parents and Martha. That makes sense too.

#spy x family #twiyor #loid forger #yor forger #sxf #anya forger #loidyor #Melinda Desmond #spy x family analysis #spy x family meta #spy x family manga #sxf manga

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sleepynoons · 2 days ago

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AHHHH help i need someone to pick me off the floor and bring a mop over

hi it's me again sorry for existing in the same timeline as you

anyway sooooooo many wonderful perfect amazing show-stopping things about the finale

uh first of all, kudos for the perfect break between pt 1 and pt 2 - it's incredibly seamless, and it ties all the loose strings together, and really, the thing that stuck out to me about this whole story is simply how Cohesive it is. super hard to execute that as a writer, so really, really impressed by that.

onto more specifics.

first, i so appreciate the portrayal of reader as being very sexually active, and in my mind, hypersexual. i mentioned previously about how we don't really know the full story with suo, and that applies to reader as well. we don't really how reader grew up, what her likes/dislikes are (besides sex and bad sex, respectively), what family life was like before getting kicked out, etc. not sure what you had in mind, but there's a sense i have where i truly, truly believe reader is not actually a very reliable narrator!!! i think there's some avoidance!!! some dense and forgetful behavior that is meant to elucidate and confuse us as readers!!! and funnily enough, suo helps us gain clarity.

anyway, i think hypersexuality rep is important, in general. a big part of it isn't just feeling horny 24/7. there's some very real problems with low esteem/self-respect, feelings of disgust, internalized misogyny + objectification, and more. i think this fic also treads this balance very carefully, in that it recognizes that sex work is really just a means to get by, in the most neutral sense possible. it's not always glamorous, it's not always violent. as someone who's done a ton of research and activism in sex work, especially at the intersection of sex work + immigration, i really appreciated this rep.

in terms of reader and suo's relationship, this is really where i wanna dive into it. it's very clear i love them and i love them together, but it's not just their alikeness that makes them work. it's their shared history, their leniency + strict expectations for each other, and so much more.

the specific word choices and phrases really drive this through – "being gutted by suo" "mortified" "pavlovian response" and so many more

their banter is really the cherry on top as well.

also wanna emphasize this more - despite how romantic they are with each other (in their minds), they're also so sharp and judgmental – and i mean judgmental. lowkey kinda like asian parenting LOL like reader wants the best for suo, but now that suo's become a yakuza, that's a grudge she's keeping for the rest of her life. similarly, suo wants reader to stop fucking around and actually practice more self-control, but because she doesn't listen, he's gotta take matters into his own hands and edge the living shit out of her. sexual innuendos aside, literally asian love. like fine we'll deal with it if you don't listen but just know we're holding it over your head for the rest of your goddamn life LMFAO ik it's kinda toxic to other folks who may not have grown up in such an environment - and i'm not really gonna have an opinion on whether it's valid/justifiable or not -, but as someone who grew up with tiger parents + somehow managed to be somewhat emotionally close to them, this type of love is really smth i treasure a lot.

and i think that's the whole point of the fic, for me at least. reader and suo want to take care of each other. they want to cherish the time they have together. but at the same time, it's realistically impossible not to hurt your loved ones. i think it's so easy to say certain things are dealbreakers and to just walk away, but even irl, sometimes it's also just... hard to walk away. idk maybe i have a really convoluted sense of love and romanticism, but i am 100000% convinced love is difficult and honestly not really worth the payoff sometimes, yet reader and suo kinda don't even care if the payoff's worth it. like we'll hurt, we'll love, and we'll just see how it goes bc we just care that fucking much about each other. i wonder if they'd still choose to be tgt even if they knew they were making each other incredibly unhappy... bc they're each other's person ykwim.... anyway, some more food for thought for me... heheh

also,,, sex scene had me quaking,,, i totally read the tags and saw p*ssy inspection and wasn't shocked,,, totally was prepared,,, haha,,,, ha

anyway, sooo much love and thanks again, op. i may have gone off the rails, and thought or interpreted shit you didn't even think about or agree with. point is, haven't thought so much about a fic in so long, and i really was so enraptured with every word, every cadence, every paragraph. apologies for the brief spam in your inbox, but i really hope, no matter where you go, you keep writing. thank you so so so much, truly, for sharing this with us.

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

#cake served!

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arc-misadventures · 2 days ago

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The Beasts Consort

Jaune slowly shut the door behind him, taking in the features of his new dorm room. It was nice; there was a closet, a nice desk to do his studies, a window with a hell of a view, a bathroom, and a nice big double sized bed. How nice!

Thought, Jaune as he fell back onto the bed, his hands cupping his face as he groaned in exasperation.

Jaune: That was horrible!

: Well, I think that went pretty well~!

Jaune: Pretty well? Pretty well?!

Jaune opened his hands as he shouted seeing, Salem's elegant, angelic face mere inches from his face. Normally someone would be surprised that someone face suddenly appeared so close to theirs, but Jaune had grown accustomed to, Salem doing this to him so she didn't scare him.

That often that is...

Jaune: I was so nervous about showing you to everyone, and I thought: 'Sure she's deity, but it won't be that bad. I bet everyone has really strong, Spiritual Beasts. It won't matter at all, people won't bat an eye at all when they see her.

Jaune: But, then you showed yourself, and everyone started losing their freaking minds?!

Salem: Well that's not my fault...

Salem moved away from, Jaune as floated she in the air, adopting a posture that looked as if she was posing for a portrait on a fainting couch.

Salem: Those fools thought they were all on top of the mountain, that they were among pinnacle, the cream of the wheat when it comes to being, Spiritual Beast Masters. All because they thought they had some of the strongest, and most powerful, Spiritual Beasts one can master. But, in reality...

Salem turned to stare at her lover with a wide toothy smile showing off her fanged teeth as she game him a most sinister smile.

Salem: They've barely reached the peak of the hill~!

Jaune: Hey! Salem, what did I say about you doing your sinister smile, thingy?

Salem: To not do it...

Jaune: Yes. Because it ruins your beautiful face!

Salem: Ohhh~!

Salem hovered over to, Jaune an cupped her lovers cheeks and squished them together.

Salem: Oh, aren't you such a charmer! I'm so glad you summoned me.

Jaune: Well I'm glad you chose me.

Jaune cupped, Salem's cheek in his hand, she gently rubbed her cheeks with his thumb, this action of affection caused her to melt into his embrace. Jaune held her like this for a moment before he stood up, and made his way to the door.

Jaune: Okay... I'm hungry, let's go grab something to eat.

Salem: You know I don't need to eat.

Jaune: Then why do you keep stealing my food?

Salem: Because it's fun~!

Jaune groaned in despair as he moved towards the cafeteria. Salem floating through the air behind him. Jaune saw people move out of his way, staring at him, and whispering to him as he walked by them, Jaune's head fell as another groan of complete despair left his lips.

Jaune: Great... I'm the talk of the town now...

Salem: What's wrong with that, didn't you always want to be popular?

Jaune: Yes, but I'm not the reason I'm 'popular,' you are.

Salem: Well that's not fair, I am a Goddess after all. I've been 'popular' for eons!

Jaune: Yes, but since when have you actually been partnered with a, Spiritual Master?

Salem: Uhh...?

Salem crossed her legs with her head in her head deep in concertation. Jaune watched her slowly spin, and float in the air, deeply lost in thought.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I was just saying that as an example, have you ever formed a contract with a, Spiritual Master before?!

Salem: Nope!

Salem cocked her head to the side, and stuck out her tongue as she tapped her head., Jaune dropped his face in his hands as he groaned in exasperation again.

Jaune: Don't you act cute with me! The fact I have a contract with a, Spiritual Deity, Is one thing all on it's own! But, everyone will also think I'm crazy, because it appears that I'm not talking to anyone!

Jaune shouted this for all to hear, before his head sharply turned to a couple of students who were watching him. And, he pointed in the air at, Salem.

Jaune: I'm talking to my, Spiritual Beast, she's right there!

Jaune looked over to his side, and notice something important: Salem wasn't there anymore.

Jaune: Oi?! Where did you go?

~~~

Jaune then grabbed a hearty meal full of chicken nuggets, mixed vegetables, and some fries. He took a seat at one of the empty tables, looking around to see everyone staring at him.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: (Sigh)

Jaune: If it wasn't for the law about, Spiritual Masters needing to be trained, I would have stayed home...

Jaune dejectedly picked a chicken nugget, and dipped it in some honey mustard sauce.

Jaune: There goes my chance to make friends I guess...

: Hi!

Jaune was about to place his food into his mouth, but stopped when he saw a girl with black hair with red fringes wave at him.

Jaune: Uhh... Hi. Uhh... Ruby...? Ruby Rose right?

Ruby: Yep! That's me! And, You're, Jaune Arc!

Jaune: Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?

Ruby: I just wanted to talk with you; mind if I join you?

Jaune: Uhh... sure?

Ruby: Thank you!

Jaune gestured to the open seat in front of him, as, Ruby happily took the open seat in front of him.

Ruby: So tell me, what kind of, Spiritual Powers do you have?

Jaune: W-What?

Ruby: I have a, Shadow Wolf, as my, Spiritual Beast, because of that I can use, Shadow, and Wind powers. Considering you have the, Oni Queen, you must have a wide array of powers from her! So what do you have?

Jaune: Oh... well... I have an odd assortment of, Spiritual Powers from, Salem. I have superhuman strength, flight, elemental control, and regeneration. Salem has a few more powers that I can't us, but that's basically it.

Ruby: Whoa! That's amazing! Mine sound lame compared to yours... You can use all of my powers, and some...

Jaune: Yeah, but you still have powers I don't have; Having a, Shadow Wolf as your, Spiritual Beast means you will have a high sense of smell, and be able to run at really fast speeds. Also it shouldn't be hard for your to learn invisibility magic either.

Ruby: Oh. I never knew I could do that... Wait, how did you know I could do that?

Jaune pointed to his side with a chicken nugget in his fingers.

Jaune: Lord of Beasts. She knows basically everything there is about any, Spiritual Beast there is.

Jaune was about to eat the chicken nugget in his hand until he realized there was no nugget in his fingers, he looked to his side, and shouted.

Jaune: Hey?!

Ruby was about to ask, Jaune another question when another person came up on his left.

: Hello, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Hmm? Oh, you're, Weiss Schnee! I love your music; Mirror Mirror is my favourite.

Weiss: Oh... T-Thank you...

Weiss hadn't expected someone to notice her, and complement her because of her music. It took her a moment to remove the blush spreading across her face.

Weiss: Ahem! I was wondering if I could have a few words with you about your, Spiritual Beast; Salem the Oni Queen.

Jaune: Sure, take a seat.

Weiss: Thank you! I wondering if...? Bleh!?

Weiss had taken the seat on, Jaune's left, but as soon as she sat down next to him, and put her tray of food on the table. She suddenly felt an invisible force on her face, pushing her away from, Jaune. Making a two foot gap between them.

Weiss, soon felt the pressure on her face fade away, and then she felt something tap her head. She, and Ruby started looking around, utterly perplexed as to what had just happened.

Weiss: W-What? What just happened?

Jaune: Oh, sorry about that... Yeah, Salem doesn't like it when woman, outside my family, sit next to me.

Weiss: So she pushed me away...?!

Jaune: Yeah. If you were rather... aggressive she would have just shoved you out of the seat.

Ruby: She's done that to people before?

Jaune: Oh yeah. She's sent people flying before. So. sorry about that, Weiss.

Jaune turned to face, Weiss to apologize to her, but, Weiss was touching her face in stunned amazement as if she had just achieved enlightenment.

Jaune: Uhh... Weiss?

Weiss: She touched my face...? A, Spiritual Deity touched my face! And, she tapped me on my head...? EEEEE! This is the best day ever!

Weiss squealed in glee as her body shook in absolute delight. Jaune, and Ruby could only stare on in disbelief as, Weiss seemingly lost it.

Ruby: Has this happened before...?

Jaune: Most people don't even know I have a, Spiritual Beast, let alone the fact of who she is. So, no... this has not happened before.

Weiss: This is a glorious day, for I have been blessed by the, Gods~!

As soon as those words left, Weiss's lips a look of terror wrought it's way across, Jaune's face.

Jaune: Oh shit! She's a, Spiritualist!

Ruby: A, Spiritualist; What is that?

Jaune: A religious group that worship, Spiritual Beast. In particular, Spiritual Deities, such as, Salem. They can either be pretty tame in their devotion, or rather zealous. They can be rather... troublesome at times.

Ruby: People worship, Salem?!

Jaune: She is a god, so...?

Ruby: It must be cool having people worship you as a god!

Jaune: Uhhh...?

Jaune gave a worried look to his right, seeing, Salem trying to make as much distance between herself, and Weiss, while still staying close to, Jaune as psychically possible.

Jaune: Depends on the god... Salem doesn't seem to like being worshiped.

Jaune's eyebrow quirked as, Salem said something next to him, something that made his face flush red from embarrassment.

Jaune: That's... You know I didn't mean it like that?!

Ruby: didn't mean it like what?

Jaune: NOTHING!

Jaune shouted at, Ruby, not wanting to reveal his dark secrets. He quickly turned his attention back to, Weiss who was still trapped in a state of nirvana.

Jaune decided to ignore, Weiss, and her whole religious awakening thingy. and, decided to go back to his food. But, just as he was about to take a bit of his meal when he bit on nothing.

Jaune: Hey!? Stop stealing my chicken nuggies woman!

Weiss: How dare you address a god in such a crass manner!

Ruby: She likes chicken nuggies...?

Jaune: Haa... this is going to be a long four years...

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #ruby rose #rwby salem #salem x jaune #jaune x salem #rwby grimmknight

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leona-hawthorne · 1 day ago

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FICMAS #8— HE’S MINE! / mattheo riddle

december 23rd

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: it seems to be a little hard to get into the christmas spirit when your little sister is hogging your boyfriend!

warnings: fluff, established relationship

words: 1.4k

a/n: i love this one tbh :)

navigation ficmas masterlist

It had been your idea to bring Mattheo home for Christmas. Of course it had. You’d argued for it, certain your parents wouldn’t mind—and they didn’t. In fact, they’d been surprisingly enthusiastic about it. They liked Mattheo, for one, and they knew enough about his home life—or lack thereof—to see why he might need an escape for the holidays. Besides, the thought of leaving him behind in that cold, empty manor while you went off to bake cookies and trim trees with your family felt unbearable.

What you hadn’t planned for was your little sister.

The moment she saw Mattheo, her eyes went wide, her lips parted in a tiny gasp, and for once, she didn’t have a single smart remark. You’d expected her usual groaning protest of Ew, boys are gross or Whatever, he’s probably boring. But instead, she just stood there staring up at him, as though he were some sort of fairy tale prince who’d stepped straight out of one of her bedtime stories.

“Hey,” Mattheo had said gently, crouching down to her level. He had that rare, soft smile on his face—the one he reserved only for you, and apparently now, six-year-old girls. “You must be the famous little sister. I’ve heard all about you.”

Her face had turned scarlet, and she’d ducked behind your leg, clutching your jeans for dear life. You’d raised an eyebrow at Mattheo, trying to stifle a laugh. Well, this is new.

From then on, it was as though she’d claimed him. Every time you turned around, there she was, dragging him off for some new adventure. At first, it was cute. Endearing, even. She’d taken him by the hand to show him the ornaments she’d made for the tree, chattering on about how she’d painted the reindeer one herself. He’d listened patiently, nodding and smiling as though her ramblings were the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard.

But then it escalated.

By the second day, you found them at her little pink tea table, tiny porcelain cups in hand. Mattheo’s long legs were awkwardly folded beneath him as he pretended to sip imaginary tea. You’d leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Really?” you’d asked, grinning. “A tea party?”

“She made me a very convincing argument,” Mattheo replied, deadpan, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Also, I think this is her way of letting me know who’s in charge here.”

You’d laughed then, shaking your head, but something about the way your sister beamed up at him had made you pause.

It wasn’t long before her demands grew bolder. She’d roped him into baking cookies—flour dusted all over his dark jumper—and insisted he give her a piggyback ride around the house. And though Mattheo obliged her every request with good-natured patience, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Because every time you tried to steal a moment alone with him, she was already there, wedged firmly between the two of you.

On the third day, you figured maybe it was time to steal back your boyfriend.

“Where is he?” you muttered, stalking through the house. The smell of gingerbread lingered in the air, and somewhere, you could hear your sister’s giggles echoing down the hall.

You found them in the living room. She was perched on Mattheo’s back, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he crawled on all fours, pretending to be a dragon.

“Really?” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.

Mattheo glanced up at you, his curls falling into his eyes. He was grinning. “What?”

“She’s hogging you,” you said, your voice teetering on the edge of a whine.

“She’s six,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “You jealous of a six-year-old?”

“What? No, I just– you know what? You two have fun, I’m gonna go help my mom with wrapping.”

And by the fourth day, you’d had enough.

You didn’t know whether to scoff or to smile as you watched Mattheo from the doorway of the kitchen. He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his dark shirt as he helped your little sister roll out sugar cookie dough. His hands were comically large compared to hers, yet he moved with such careful precision, as if afraid to crush her tiny fingers by accident.

Your sister giggled, a sound that echoed through the space like a bell, and your chest tightened at how easily Mattheo coaxed that sound from her. It was endearing—no, more than endearing. It was heartwarming. But also…infuriating.

You stepped into the room, leaning against the counter as you folded your arms. “How’s it going in here?”

Mattheo glanced up at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s going great. We’re making masterpieces, aren’t we, kid?”

Your sister nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing as she beamed up at him. “Mattheo says my snowman looks perfect!”

You raised a brow, biting back a smile. “Perfect, huh? Even though his head is sliding off his body?”

Mattheo chuckled, brushing a streak of flour off his arm. “It’s an abstract snowman,” he said smoothly, turning back to the dough. “He’s got character.”

Your sister giggled again, clearly thrilled by his attention, and you felt the beginnings of that familiar pang of annoyance. You’d invited Mattheo here for you, not so he could spend every waking moment entertaining your sister.

“Right,” you said, stepping closer and nudging him lightly with your hip. “Well, I’m stealing him now. We were supposed to watch a movie, remember?”

Mattheo looked over at you, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Baby, are you jealous of a six-year-old?”

Your mouth opened, indignation flaring to life, but before you could respond, your sister tugged on his sleeve. “Wait! We still have to make the reindeer cookies! You promised!”

Mattheo crouched slightly, bringing himself to her level as he smiled at her. “And we’ll make those, I swear. But your big sister’s giving me that look, and I think I’d better listen to her before she drags me out of here.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched upward. “I’m not giving you a look.”

“Oh, you’re giving me a look,” he teased, standing to his full height and brushing his hands off on a towel. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You’re practically glaring at me. I’d almost say it’s cute.”

“Don’t push your luck, Riddle,” you muttered, though your cheeks burned at the way his breath ghosted against your skin.

Your sister pouted, crossing her arms. “But Mattheo—”

“I’ll be back,” he promised her, giving her a playful wink. “And when I am, we’ll make the best reindeer cookies anyone’s ever seen. Deal?”

She huffed, clearly not pleased, but she nodded anyway, her pout softening.

You grabbed Mattheo’s wrist, tugging him toward the living room before your sister could protest again. “Come on. You’re mine, remember?”

He let you pull him away, laughing softly under his breath. Once you reached the living room, you rounded on him, poking a finger at his chest. “You’re supposed to be spending time with me. Me, Mattheo. Not my sister. Me.”

“Is this really happening right now?” he asked, smirking down at you. “You’re actually jealous of a six-year-old.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not jealous,” you shot back, though your words sounded more defensive than you intended. “I just don’t like sharing, especially when it’s you. And second, it’s not my fault she suddenly decided she loves boys after swearing for years that they had cooties!”

Mattheo grinned, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “So what you’re saying is…I’m irresistible.”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me anyway.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, finding his gaze soft and affectionate, his smirk less teasing now and more genuine. Your frustration melted away as quickly as it had come, replaced by a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest.

“Yeah,” you admitted, dropping your hands and stepping closer to him. “I do.”

“And for the record,” he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your temple, “I’m yours. Always.”

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

#mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fanfic #harry potter #slytherin #fluff #benjamin wadsworth #ficmas #leona-hawthorne ficmas

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iinthehexcore · 16 hours ago

Text

little mouse

Silco saved you in the bar a while ago. It was only fitting that you returned that favor.

content: SLIGHTLY suggestive toward the end, talk of weapons, sequel to 'the last drop', tagging a few of the people who asked for a p2, 1825 words

an: happy christmas to all who celebrate! hope you guys like this, enjoy!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

"Hey, Mouse."

You stood up from your crouching position, placing a glass on the bar top. Sevika came in, a lit cigarette on the corner of her mouth as she let out a sigh, plopping down on one of the seats. Over the months, the two of you had became some sort of friends. Now, Sevika was a closed off person to begin with, not trusting you even one bit, but after seeing you work and defend your people, she warmed up to you. Ever since that one moment where you sneaked behind a man to steal back the bottle of booze that he had taken from the bar, she called you Mouse. Silent, but gets the job done.

"Rough day?"

The woman in front of you hummed, inhaling the smoke before turning her head, blowing it back out. Her favorite liquor was already set in a place where it was easy for you to grab. You dropped an ice cube into the glass, filling it up before pushing it her way. She thanked you, downing the entire thing as she groaned.

"Finn wants to meet with Silco today."

You raised an eyebrow, topping up her glass again before screwing the cap back on, placing it on the shelf right beside you. Some of the droplets that had spilled got neatly wiped up with your rag as you tossed it on the counter.

"What does Finn want with him?"

Sevika knew you didn't like the man either. It was something you bonded over. His exaggerated confidence annoyed the both of you, together with his lame attempts on trying to get Sevika on his side, and trying to get you in his bed. You knew not to fully piss the man off though. At least, not without Silco knowing first.

"Can trust you, can't I, Mouse?"

"Sevika," you sigh, "I quite literally cleaned blood off of the tables just so Silco wouldn't know that you beat that drunk guy up. Yes, you can."

She raised an eyebrow, the slightest smirk on her face as she sipped from her cup.

"Heard something about him wanting to overthrow Silco. Wants to be the most powerful Chembaron in Zaun."

It made you roll your eyes.

"He always bites off more than he can chew. He came to you?"

She hummed and nodded, swirling the ice cube in the glass. It made you chuckle as you glanced at the door, seeing the rest of the pub still empty.

"So he is still stupid enough to think you will betray Silco," you sighed, "Finn needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Not only better for us, but also better for him."

"I just hope he stays away from here. I can't be here tonight - Silco has me out on a job."

You grimaced, squinting your eyes before pouring yourself a glass of water. Silco had told you that you could drink as long as you knew how to handle yourself, but you felt much more confident in being completely sober. You never knew what could happen, not in the Zaun now.

A week ago, Silco gifted you something. He said that it was because you were so good at your job, but little did you know the real reason. The man, though not doubting your skills or confidence, was… scared. With nothing but some glass bottles and a tea towel to defend yourself, he knew you needed something. Thieram had a gun, Sevika had her whole arm, so, for you, he found another weapon. A knife, small and thin, hidden away on your belt. You wouldn't even need to kill someone, no. That was not what he wanted. It simply gave him some peace of mind to know that if something were to happen, you would have something to defend yourself with.

"Thieram and I can keep an eye out," you winked, sipping your water, "Highly doubt you will miss anything."

The small clock next to you made you realize it was already later than you thought. Normally, Silco would have been downstairs right now, sipping a drink before the crowd would get big before disappearing into his office.

"Well, I will see you later, then. Time for Silco's drink."

"Hmm," Sevika threw her head back, gulping down the rest of her drink before wiping her mouth, "See you later, Mouse."

With a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, you walked up the stairs, knocking on the door before you heard a 'come in'. Behind the door sat Silco, annoyed look on his face. On his desk laid a map and a lit cigar rested on the dish that Jinx had painted for him.

"Care for a drink?"

"Gladly," he groaned.

You quietly closed the door behind you, placing the gold-rimmed glass on his desk. Neither of you exchanged words, but it didn't feel necessary. The liquor splattered against the glass as you filled it up, closing the bottle again and stepping back.

"Expecting any guests?"

"Thankfully not."

"Well… If you need another drink, let me know."

He hummed in return, raising the glass to his lips as you left again. It seemed that in the few minutes that you were gone, the bar had filled up, and Thieram had arrived. He was busy making drinks as you greeted him with a smile, placing Silco's bottle back before pouring glasses.

Half an hour. That was how long you were able to just simply do your job. An odd character here and there trying to flirt with you before drunkenly walking off, drinks spilled, Thieram having to scold some idiots. You smiled at the woman in front of you as you handed her the drink, your gaze falling to the door behind her that opened and closed. In walked Finn, his golden jaw shimmering in the dim light. It made you raise an eyebrow - Silco wasn't expecting anyone today.

Instinctively, you looked to the booth to your left before remembering that Sevika wasn't here for the evening. But, what in the hell was Finn doing here? On his own, too. The man was nothing without at least one person by his side. You wiped the counter, your eyes following the figure as Finn walked up the stairs, disappearing from your sight.

"Thieram, I will be right back."

Your hand reached for Silco's bottle, the other one patting your hip to make sure that you had the knife with you. Maybe Finn was just there being harmless, but when has he not tried to pull some tricks? Worst case you have to pour both of them a drink. And so, after pushing yourself through the crowd, you sneaked up the stairs. No trace of Finn.

Stopping in front of the door, you paused. It was hard to hear if anything was being said as the crowd was rather loud, but you could hear the low humming of Silco's voice. Then, a louder voice, one dripping in forced confidence. You slowly opened the door, bottle held in your hands as if a weapon, before peeking in. There, Finn with a blade in his hand, standing right in front of Silco. Your boss must have been sitting down as you only saw his legs peek out from under the desk, but with Finn puffing his chest, it was hard to see anything.

Softly, you closed the door behind again, sneaking closer and closer.

"Today is the day you die, Silco."

You peeked past Finn's legs, seeing Silco sigh before putting his hand on his head. It seemed like neither men had noticed you. Finn tightened the grip on the blade, a sly smirk on his face.

"That's a risk I've known all my life."

With that, you jumped up, raising the bottle high above your head before smashing it down on Finn's cheek. He let out a surprised gasp as he stumbled to the floor, blood trickling down his eye as you slipped your knife out of the holster, holding it against Finn's neck.

"Day you die, Finn?"

Silco, who already had his hand on the holster of his pistol, looked at you confused, though he knew now was not the time. He cocked it, aiming it at Finn. The loud thuds and breaking glass seemed to catch quite some attention as Sevika burst in, metal arm nearly breaking off the door. She had just finished her job, wanting to let Silco know it was all done, stains still on her metal arm.

There, you on top of Finn with a knife to his throat, Silco with a gun aimed at the very same man, and a blade laying too far away for Finn to reach.

"Sevika, perfect moment," Silco pushed back his hair, his shoulders dropping before pointing to the man on the floor, "Surely you can take care of him?"

It seemed like all her dreams came true as she grinned. Oh, she can. She grabbed him by the neck as you stepped off of him, huffing as Sevika dragged him away. To where? You had no idea, but you did not doubt Sevika's skills.

"Well, well, well, little Mouse."

You averted your gaze back to Silco who only looked at you with what seemed to be an amused grin. He placed his gun back on his desk, one hand on his hip before gesturing.

"Quite a spectacle there. Care to explain?"

He moved one of the chairs back for you before sinking down on his own, taking a hit of his cigar. You sat on the chair in front of him, placing the blade right next to his pistol.

"I wasn't going to kill him. Don't think I could, no matter how annoying he is," you sighed, "I just… You said that there were no meetings today, and Finn showing up when Sevika wasn't supposed to be here seemed like much more than a mere coincidence. I didn't mean to come in without knocking, Silco."

"No," he tutted, "No apologies. I believe in loyalty more than a closed door, Mouse."

He swirled the ice around in his cup, looking at the broken glass and spilled liquor on the wooden floor.

"Such a shame we wasted this on an... idiot like Finn."

You snorted, shaking your head.

"Sorry. If it turned out he was here to make peace, then at least I could have poured you both a drink."

"You know, Mouse," Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass, "I never understood why you were called that. Mouse."

He placed emphasis on your nickname, glancing up at you.

"Sevika called you Mouse, and so did I. Surely there had to have been a reason for it. But now, I have seen it first hand," he nodded, "Didn't even see you sneak in. Finn surely didn't expect it."

You looked up at him, tilting your head.

"I can be quiet if I wish to."

"A handy skill indeed," hummed Silco, placing his glass on his desk, "Care to see how quiet we can be, little Mouse?"

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @nottherealamber @sevikashimmerstrap

#arcane #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane silco #silco imagine #silco x reader

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misshunterskye · 2 days ago

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you get jealous of a female doctor flirting with zayne ... this was supposed to be just fluff until it got dirty, so enjoy!

content: jealousy, fluff, smut

You're a nice person. You're a kind person. At least, you remind yourself of that as you stare down the intern that is all over Zayne. And you know that he's being polite. You know that he's just trying to make sure she has everything she needs.

But the way she's leaning in, touching his shoulder, and giving an absolutely god awful laugh -- it's making your skin crawl. you're so disgusted that you don't even realize that you're walking over until you're there.

"Oh, you must be the new intern," you say a little too cheerfully, piling on the niceness. You're still reminding yourself to be nice. You were taught to kill them with kindness.

But to your actual shock, the woman turns bright red. "Doctor, actually. I'm new to the ER."

You wouldn't have guessed it by the way she looked so confused. But you keep your mouth shut, already knowing that you fully embarrassed this woman.

But she doesn't seem to know who you are just yet. "But I do know enough that patients wait in the waiting room." Her eyes are narrowed into thin lines at this point.

Zayne finally interjects. "Dr. Madden, this is my partner."

You give another saccharine sweet smile to the woman, who looks like she wants to disappear. "I have paperwork to fill out," she finally says abruptly before walking away.

You watch her scurry away for a moment, but it's not long before Zayne hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his office. In rare fashion, he locks his door as soon as you both enter.

And in even rarer fashion, he pushes you against the door, his mouth descending on yours. "You're really pretty when you're jealous," he says when he finally pulls away. His mouth ghosts down your neck, inhaling your scent. It's the perfume you picked out just for him. It's new actually. One of the things you came over to show him.

"You smell amazing," he groans, his nose trailing up and down your neck. Your hands find purchase on the back of his head, and you giggle.

"I bought a new perfume. It's made with jasmine. I thought you'd like it," you tell him. He gives another groan.

"I need you," he breathes against your neck. "Please."

As if you would deny him. You nod, biting your lip as he pulls back to look down at you. As soon as he has your consent, it's like a dam breaks in him.

He lifts you up. His desk is meticulously neat, all of his papers filed for the most part. A few rogue papers crinkle under your ass, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"I'll print another copy," he grunts.

You giggle, widening your legs for him tauntingly. "You said you wanted something?"

"I believe I said I needed something."

He starts to kiss you again, his hands reaching down to fumble with your pants. Just like the doctor he is, he's precise with his movements, and it's not long before he has them on the floor.

Your own hands fumble with his belt, then his zipper. As you do, his mouth leaves slippery, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. When you push his boxers down, his cock springs free.

"You're pretty when you're jealous," he says, stepping closer to you. His fingers hook into your panties, pulling them to the side. His looks to you one last time to see if you want to stop. When you nod for him to continue, he slowly sinks into you.

He groans, his forehead falling against yours as he buries himself to the hilt. The both of you are still semi-clothed. His hands find purchase on your hips as he slowly starts to thrust. The fabric of his clothing starts to rub against your clit as he fucks you.

"But you should know," he says, grunting as he picks up the pace. "I'm not interested in any other women. I only want you, for as long as you'll have me."

His romantic words drive you closer to the edge. Sensing how close you are, his finger comes down to rub your clit in rhythm with his thrusts.

"Oh my God," you pant. "Zayne, please. Please, right there, I'm so close."

Just as you say that, he gives your clit a little slap and the unexpected harshness from your normally gentle lover is enough to make you fall apart instantly.

He's groaning your name all through your orgasm, the both of you chanting your names at each other. Just as your orgasm starts to subside, he thrusts once, twice, and then stills. Warmness fills you as he releases. His head drops against your shoulder.

"No need to be jealous, ever. I'm yours," he murmurs.

#zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne smut #lads zayne smut #love and deepspace smut #i don't think i was tagging these right so hopefully people can see them now!#smut #zayne

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pbaz7 · 3 days ago

Text

CROSSING THE LINE — PART SIX ♡

paige x azzi

warning: explicit language, sexual content

word count: 11.3k

A/N: Alright so this is long as hell 😭. Like I was saying earlier the spicy scene is a little detailed so be prepared for that. If you recognize the outfits I mentioned for their date you know they both looked good as hell in them lol. The comments and live reactions everyone leaves after they read makes my day so please keep it up!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

December 2023

Paige and Azzi had spent the last few weeks navigating the complexities of their new dynamic. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. Their conversations, jokes, and banter came back effortlessly, as though no time had passed. But, now there was an added layer of tension in each interaction that they both struggled to ignore.

They had crossed the line, and the memory of it lingered on both of their minds constantly. Laying in one another’s beds all the time or sharing a quick or playful touch carried a tension that hadn’t been there before Halloween. So they were both trying to find their footing in this uncharted territory.

Despite the fact that they both clearly wanted to go there again, they agreed they needed to take time to fully trust one another and build their foundation before jumping into something. Paige had to learn to trust that Azzi wasn’t going to just up and leave, she had to learn how to allow herself to be with someone. Azzi had to trust that Paige was genuinely in it for the long haul, not the old Paige who would get bored and discard her like a fleeting hookup. The agreement seemed reasonable, even necessary. But despite their best intentions, they found themselves slipping up all the time.

One of the first times happened after practice. They were lounging casually in Paige’s room, a routine born out of habit and comfort because Paige swore her bed was more comfortable. Azzi’s leg was thrown over Paige’s as Paige sat up, massaging out the lingering soreness from the last road game. Azzi’s old injury from her time at UMD still had a way of acting up sometimes, and Paige, being a good ‘teammate,’ insisted on helping every time.

“I still don’t get how this keeps happening,” Paige said, pressing her thumbs into the muscle just above Azzi’s knee. Her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued to apply firm pressure. “You’ve been so good with your recovery lately.”

Azzi shrugged lightly, her head resting back against the headboard. “Guess my body didn’t get the memo about the long plane ride.”

Paige huffed a small laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m basically a pro at this now.” Her hands worked skillfully over Azzi’s leg, her fingers kneading the muscle with a mix of care and precision.

Azzi let out a quiet hum of appreciation. “Mm. You are really good at this.”

Paige smirked, her eyes flicking up to meet Azzi’s briefly. “I’m just good with my hands,” she replied smoothly, her tone teasing but carrying a hint of pride.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah trust me I remember.”

The words lingered between them, heavy just as Azzi intended. Paige kept her focus on Azzi’s leg, but the silence spoke volumes, the air between them a little thick with tension.

Azzi broke it first, her voice soft but pointed. “You tense up every time I hint at us having sex, you know.”

Paige blinked, her hands faltering for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, feigning confusion.

Azzi’s gaze stayed steady. “You know what I’m talking about.” Her tone was light, but there was a seriousness beneath it.

Paige swallowed hard, her hands resuming their work as she focused intently on Azzi’s knee which was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered. “Maybe one of those dreams of yours was too detailed Az.”

Azzi chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side as she studied Paige. “Am I?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Because I seem to remember you were very, very thorough.”

Paige, usually brimming with confidence that bordered on cocky, faltered slightly, her usual composure slipping. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head, though a faint flush crept up her neck.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back against the headboard, completely at ease. “Right. My mistake,” she said smoothly, her eyes locking with Paige’s deliberately. Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a warmth that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine. “But seriously though, don’t stop. It feels so good.”

Clearing her throat, Paige tried to play it off. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, focusing her attention back on Azzi’s knee.

“You started it,” Azzi countered, her voice light but tinged with something Paige couldn’t place.

Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Fair enough.” She adjusted her grip, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot.

The sound that escaped Azzi was too close to something Paige had heard in an entirely different context. The sound sent a jolt through her, and she froze for a moment, her hands stilling against Azzi’s leg.

Paige glanced up, her pupils now slightly dilated as her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. The look Azzi gave her was steady, unflinching, but there was something in it that made Paige’s pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and quickly looked away.

“I, uh… I need water,” Paige mumbled, already shifting Azzi’s leg to stand.

Before she could move, Azzi’s hand reached out, wrapping gently around her wrist. “Wait,” Azzi said softly, her tone was calm but insistent.

Paige hesitated, her gaze flicking to where Azzi’s fingers held her. She could feel the warmth of Azzi’s touch, the quiet undeniable firmness in the gesture. Slowly, Paige looked back at her, her expression slightly guarded.

“Azzi…” Paige said, her voice low, her tone almost a warning.

Azzi didn’t let go. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Paige’s face. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Paige asked, the slight waver in her voice betraying her.

“Run,” Azzi said simply, her voice steady but laced with meaning. “Every time things get… interesting…you find an excuse to leave.”

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m not running,” she protested weakly, though even she didn’t believe the words.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then stay.”

The challenge in Azzi’s voice was clear, and it made Paige’s stomach flip. She opened her mouth to respond but found she didn’t have the words.

Azzi’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly, enough to pull Paige forward, closer to her on the bed. Paige could see the resolve in her eyes, the quiet determination that didn’t really leave room for disagreement. Then, without warning, Azzi tugged her closer, closing the distance between them. The moment their lips touched everything seemed to pause. A stillness that made Paige’s heart skip before it began racing.

So Paige froze at first, her mind running a dozen directions and a dozen scenarios, but then Azzi’s arms wrapped around her neck, tugging her deeper into the kiss as her hands wrapped softly around the nape of her neck. It wasn’t rushed, but it was intense, as if Azzi was pulling her into something that didn’t allow for hesitation. Paige felt the tension in her chest begin to loosen, the heat spreading as instinct took over and her free hand found its way to Azzi’s cheek as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, all the questions. All that mattered was the way Azzi’s lips felt against hers, the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards one another so naturally.

But as their bodies pressed closer and the kiss deepend, something in Paige stirred, so she broke the kiss softly pulling back just enough to catch her breath much to Azzi’s protest.

Paige’s voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes searching Paige's face. “Why not?”

Paige shook her head, feeling the way her mind was racing. “We’re not ready yet Az.”

Azzi furrowed her brow. “Why can’t we just let things happen naturally? We’re in a good place, aren’t we? I’m fine, P I promise.”

Without a word, Paige reached over and unlocked her phone and passed it to Azzi. She watched her closely, her expression softening.

Azzi took the phone, her eyes reflecting her confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Go through it,” Paige urged, her voice soft yet insistent.

Azzi hesitated, a knot of doubt forming in her stomach; she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was behind that request although part of her knew it was absolutely nothing. “I don’t know, Paige…”

Paige’s tone softened, almost pleading. “I swear, there’s nothing in there. It's just... I need you to trust me and see for yourself.”

Azzi sighed, fighting the anxiety that bubbled inside her. Paige was constantly reassuring her, but part of her still feared what she might find. So with a resigned sigh, Azzi locked the phone again and tossed it gently back to Paige.

“I don’t need to see it, Paige,” Azzi muttered, her voice strained.

Paige's now softly pointing out, “You can’t even go through my phone without being scared, Az. We’re not ready, and I want us to be ready before we go there again.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped to her hands, fingers nervously playing with each other. A wave of sadness washed over her, guilt twisting in her chest. She felt torn—wanting to trust Paige, but something in her held back, unsure, afraid of what she might find. A mix of emotions swirled through her brain making it hard to breathe for a moment.

Paige, sensing the internal struggle, moved closer. She gently grabbed Azzi's jaw, lifting her head until their eyes met. Her voice was soft but firm, the sincerity clear in every word. “It’s okay. We’ll get there. We just need a little more time.”

Azzi nodded silently, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Paige smiled, her touch gentle as she settled back into her previous position, resuming the soothing massage on Azzi’s knee as the energy in the room slowly shifted back to normal.

…

Then there was today, a few weeks later Paige was leaning casually against the wall waiting for Azzi to get out of class, her backpack slung over one shoulder as she chatted with a girl Azzi didn’t recognize. Azzi was walking toward her, her pace slowing slightly as she took in the sight. Paige’s easy smile, the way she gestured animatedly, and the way the girl was giving Paige her undivided attention—all of it caused something to simmer in Azzi’s chest.

But Azzi didn’t let it show. She schooled her expression into neutrality as she approached, stopping just short of Paige. Paige caught sight of her and broke into a huge smile, her face lighting up effortlessly.

“Hey Azzi” Paige said, her voice casual as she turned to the girl. “Thank you, I appreciate the support!”

The girl nodded, her gaze lingering on Paige for just a second too long before walking away. Azzi’s eyes followed her briefly, her jaw tightening.

As they made their way to Paige’s car, she threw her arm around Azzi’s shoulders the way she always did now when they were walking but the walk was silent. To Paige, it was a comfortable kind of silence, one she didn’t think twice about. For Azzi, it was anything but.

By the time they arrived at their empty suite, Azzi’s frustration had bubbled to the surface at Paige not saying anything. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary and turned to Paige.

“Who was that?” Azzi asked, her tone clipped.

Paige blinked, confused as these were the first words Azzi was saying to her. “Who was who?”

Azzi crossed her arms. “The girl you were talking to.”

Paige shrugged, her expression indifferent. “I don’t know. Some random fan asking about our next game.”

Azzi scoffed, her expression tightening. “A fan, huh? Right. Because you’re always just casually talking to fans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paige asked, her confusion evident

Azzi’s voice was sharp, but quieter now, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to say it out loud. “It means I’ve seen how you are with people, Paige. I know how easy it is for you to flirt without even realizing it.”

Paige groaned, throwing her hands up. “Azzi, come on. She was literally asking about the next game. I wasn’t flirting with her.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath, something Paige couldn’t quite catch.

“What?” Paige asked again, her voice growing slightly.

Azzi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe you weren’t trying to. But she didn’t look like she was asking about the game, Paige.”

Paige huffed, her frustration mounting. “I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re acting like I cheated or something!”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, and her voice dropped even further. “I’m not saying that. But it’s hard not to wonder sometimes… to wonder if maybe you’re getting bored.”

Paige froze, her eyebrows knitting together. “Bored? Azzi, what are you talking about?”

Azzi’s gaze fell, and her voice softened, no longer sharp but tinged with vulnerability. “We just haven’t defined anything. And we haven’t… you know… since that first time. I just—sometimes I don’t know where we stand, Paige and I don’t know if us trying to figure this out is enough for you. If us waiting is boring to you.”

Paige blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. Her frustration tangled with guilt, but she couldn’t find the words to make Azzi feel better. “Azzi…”

Azzi stepped back slightly.. “You’re so used to being wanted by everyone and getting what you want whenever you want it. It’s not like I don’t know that. I just..waiting is a little frustrating and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Paige repeated, her voice rising slightly. “No, Azzi, don’t do that. Don’t act like this is just on me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m literally here with you.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone weary now. “I don’t want to argue with you, Paige. Not about this right now, I was just being jealous it’s stupid.”

She turned and started toward her room, but Paige followed her. “No, wait. Don’t walk away.”

Azzi stopped just inside her room, bending over to grab something from her desk. Without looking back, she said lightly, “Seriously, Paige, I don’t want to do this right now. We can talk later.”

Paige’s frustration was boiling over. She hated the weight in Azzi’s voice, hated how the words stuck in her own throat. She didn’t know how to explain herself, how to make Azzi see that there was nothing else—no one else—that mattered to her. That waiting for Azzi didn’t bother her.

Before she could think twice about it, Paige crossed the room in two quick strides. Without hesitation she grabbed Azi’s arm, softly spinning her around. Before either of them could speak, Paige’s lips crashed against Azzi’s. The kiss was full of frustration, need, and every unspoken word between them.

For a moment, Azzi froze, caught off guard, but then her body melted into Paige’s. Her hands clenching the fabric of Paige’s shirt pulling her closer as she kissed her back with just as much intensity. The argument dissolved between them, replaced by something much more raw.

Paige pulled Azzi backwards, guiding her with each step. Their lips never parted, each kiss growing deeper and more desperate as each of them let out their frustration at their situation. Paige barely registered the edge of the bed hitting the back of her knees before she fell onto it, Azzi following instantly. Azzi straddled her, her hands gripping Paige’s shirt tightly as their mouths locked in a rhythm that burned away their anger and replaced it with pure desire.

Paige groaned into Azzi’s mouth as Azzi rolled her hips into Paige’s pressing their bodies closer, the kiss growing heavier with every second. Paige’s hands instinctively wrapped firmly around Azz’s waist, trying to steady herself but pull Azzi closer at the same time. The touch seemed to encourage Azzi who broke from Paige’s lips and began trailing urgent kisses down her neck.

Paige’s breath hitched, her head tilting back as a shiver ran through her. “Fuck Azzi–” she whispered, her voice caught between a desperate plea and a low moan.

At the sound of this Azzi froze. Her lips hovered over Paige’s skin, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Slowly Azzi pulled back, her breathing uneven as she propped herself up slightly with a hand on Paige’s chest, her dark eyes clouded with something indecipherable.

Paige lay beneath her, her blue eyes dark with pure desire but also something softer—a quiet vulnerability that tugged at Azzi’s chest, that made Azzi want to just say forget it. But Azzi sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose between her fingers before climbing off of Paige entirely.

The abruptness of the movement made Paige sit up on her elbows, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Azzi,” she started, her voice hesitant, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Azzi shook her head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Paige watched her closely, but her heart clenched when she saw Azzi grab her gym bag. A sudden panic flared within her. Paige scrambled to her feet, her voice pitching higher. “Where are you going?”

Azzi slung the bag over her shoulder, glancing at Paige with a calmness that didn’t match the rising tension in Paige’s chest. “I’m going to the gym.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. Azzi’s response was completely rational, but it didn’t stop the surge of panic that overtook her. She stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Azzi, wait. Please don’t go.”

Azzi’s expression softened already knowing what was going through Paige’s head. “Paige—”

“I’m sorry,” Paige interrupted, her words tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to push—I don’t know why I did that. Just, don’t go. Please.”

Azzi exhaled, the weight of Paige’s fear pressing down on her. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said softly, stepping closer, her voice dripping with warmth. “It’s not what you think. I’m not leaving. I just need to clear my head, okay?

But Paige’s unease was written all over her face. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted as if to plead further. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re walking out. You’re just…leaving. And what if–”

Azzi sighed again, cutting her off gently but firmly, before dropping her bag and stepping forward grabbing Paige’s hand. She led her to sit down on the edge of the bed. Azzi knelt in front of her, placing her hands gently on Paige’s knees.

“Paige,” she started, her voice firm but tender. Paige tried to interrupt, shaking her head, but Azzi caught her face in her hands, making her look directly at her.

“Listen to me,” Azzi said, her voice steady. “I’m not leaving. Baby, I promise you, I’m not leaving you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, the emotions swirling in her chest almost too much to bear. “But you’re going to the gym,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “And I–I don’t know, it feels like…like you’re leaving because I messed up, and I–”

“Hey. I’m just going to the gym,” Azzi cut in gently, her thumbs brushing over Paige’s cheeks. “You didn’t mess up. This isn’t about that. We were arguing about something that doesn’t even matter, and I just need a little time to clear my head. That’s all. I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t want this to spiral. We both just need a little time to settle and calm down.”

Paige blinked, her mind beginning to grasp Azzi’s words. Slowly, she nodded, the realization dawning on her as her breathing steadied. “You promise?”

Azzi smiled softly, letting her hands linger on Paige’s cheeks for a moment whispering “I promise P,” before she pulled back. She slowly stood and grabbed her phone and gym bag again, heading toward the door. But as she reached the threshold, she glanced back at Paige, noticing the way her mind still seemed to race, her unease still faintly visible.

Azzi hesitated for a moment before walking back to her. She bent down in front of Paige again, her brown eyes warm as they met Paige’s. “Paige I promise you I’ll be back. I was being irrational and I just need a little time to think baby.”

Paige nodded again, her lips quirking into the faintest smile at the word ‘baby.’

Then, Azzi leaned in and kissed Paige—softly, gently, with a tenderness that melted away the last of Paige’s fears.

When Azzi pulled back, Paige managed a small smile, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Okay,” she whispered.

Azzi gave her one last reassuring look before standing and heading out, the door clicking softly behind her. This time, when Azzi walked out, Paige didn’t panic. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing her lips as she continued to smile faintly. Her heart settled as her mind finally began to quiet.

Later that night, Azzi returned to the suite with a steaming bag of Noodles & Company and a shirley temple. The soft glow from the TV lit up Paige’s face as she sat with her legs spread on the couch, her headset slightly askew as she focused on her game of Fortnite yelling about who knows what. When Paige looked up and saw Azzi standing there, her smile was radiant—so pure and full of warmth that Azzi swore she’d never forget it as it made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m back,” Azzi said softly, holding up the food.

Ice, sprawled on the armchair groaned dramatically, flicking a chip at Azzi. “I see how it is–bring noodles for Paige but nothing for me. Your favorite child”

Azzi laughed, her eyes never leaving Paige. “You can have what I got for myself,” she teased, handing Ice the bottle of water with a smirk.

Ice rolled her eyes. “You’re such a simp.”

Paige chuckled at that, but Azzi didn’t care. With a soft smile, she walked over and plucked Paige’s headset off her head.

“Hey!” Paige protested, reaching for it, but Azzi was already tugging her to her feet.

“Time to take a break,” Azzi said, her voice playful but firm.

“One more game,” Paige whined, her lips jutting into a pout.

Azzi shook her head, laughing. “Nope. My room. Now.”

Paige huffed but followed Azzi willingly, shooting a teasing glance at Ice, who muttered something about third-wheeling and how they never feed their child as they disappeared into Azzi’s room.

Once inside, Azzi set the food on her desk, but Paige crossed her arms, staring her down. “You’re eating some of this,” she insisted.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I brought it for you, you know.”

“And I’m sharing it with you,” Paige said, already opening the box and poking around with a fork. “Sit.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping back and sitting on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a grin. Paige sat on the bed beside her, the container of noodles in her hand. She held out a forkful of noodles, her gaze locked on Azzi’s as she leaned in a little closer.

“Really?” Azzi asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Really,” Paige replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azzi sighed but leaned forward, letting Paige feed her. They laughed as Paige made a show of wiping a stray noodle from Azzi’s chin, her touch lingering just a second too long.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not being subtle, you know.”

Paige grinned, giving her a playful shrug. “I’m just making sure you don’t go hungry.”

Azzi laughed softly, her hand brushing over Paige’s, lingering just for a second. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start getting other ideas about where this night is going.”

Paige's smile widened, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. ”

This statement makes Azzi raise her eyebrow at the blonde sitting in front of her.

Paige just laughs, shaking her head as she takes a bite of her food. “Get your head out of the gutter, we’re watching Kyrie highlights.”

This immediately makes Azzi groan.

They continued eating as the quiet settled around them, neither of them noticing how natural it all felt—how their earlier tension had dissolved into something lighter, softer.

As Paige scooped up another bite of noodles and tried to offer it to her, Azzi caught her wrist gently, stopping her. Paige looked at her, confused.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Azzi said softly, her brown eyes filled with admiration.

Paige’s cheeks flushed, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

Azzi leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

Paige shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve the world, Azzi.”

They continued eating, sharing the container of noodles as a comfortable quiet settled between them. Every now and then, Paige would sneak a bite in Azzi’s direction, insisting she eat more despite Azzi’s protests. Paige was adamant, though, grinning as she held out another forkful until Azzi rolled her eyes and relented, letting out a playful sigh of defeat.

When Paige reached for her shirley temple, Azzi playfully made a grab for it, earning a sharp glare and a dramatic clutch of the cup from Paige. “Don’t even think about it this is where I draw the line,” Paige warned, her tone light but firm, causing Azzi to laugh, her head shaking at Paige’s possessiveness over the drink.

The quiet moments stretched between them, filled with warmth and contentment. As Paige leaned back against the headboard, her mind felt unusually calm. The endless worries, the fears that usually gnawed at her, were nowhere to be found. Azzi’s presence anchored her—a steady, quiet reassurance she hadn’t realized she’d needed until now.

Azzi, meanwhile, watched Paige smile and laugh, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now. She could see it in the way Paige looked at her, in the easy way Paige seemed to settle into their shared space. Paige being at home waiting for her. This wasn’t fleeting; it wasn’t temporary. Paige wasn’t going anywhere.

As Paige set the empty container aside, she leaned back against the headboard, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Out of nowhere, she broke the silence. “Let me take you on a date,” she said, her voice casual, as if she were suggesting they go for a walk.

Azzi blinked, slightly caught off guard. “A date?” she repeated, her tone curious, as if needing to clarify what she’d just heard.

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why not?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Paige, you’ve never been on a date in your life,” she teased, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

Paige grinned, unfazed. “Then you can be my first. It’ll just be dinner. That’s what people do on first dates, right?”

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, a warm sound that filled the room. “Sure, P,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on Paige’s earnest expression. “You can take me on a date.”

“Perfect,” Paige said, her grin widening. “Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Azzi repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “What if I’m busy?”

Paige tilted her head, giving Azzi a pointed look. “We have the same schedule. You’re free.”

Azzi playfully scoffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, tomorrow,” she said, her lips curling into an amused smile. “But don’t think this means I’m easy to impress.”

Paige leaned closer, her confidence never wavering. “Oh, I don’t need to impress you,” she teased, her voice dropping just enough to send a slight shiver through Azzi. “You’re already impressed by everything I do.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile.

“Ridiculous enough for you to go on a date with me,” Paige shot back, settling back into the pillows with a triumphant grin.

…

The next night rolled around, and Paige found herself standing outside the door of her own suite, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She’d insisted that if this was going to be a real date, she had to pick Azzi up properly. So to make it authentic, she’d gotten ready in Nika’s room, leaving Azzi to prepare in the suite they shared.

Now, as she stood there, her nerves betrayed her usual confidence. Paige wiped her hands on her pants and took a steadying breath, the flowers trembling slightly in her grip. When the door finally opened, any composure she’d mustered vanished.

Azzi stood before her in a matching hot pink set: shorts and a blazer-like jacket that hung open to reveal an extremely cropped black shirt underneath, leaving little to the imagination. The outfit framed her toned stomach perfectly, her belly piercing catching the light, while the silver heart necklace Paige had given her rested against her skin.

Paige’s breath hitched, her words disappearing entirely as she stared. Azzi, blushing ever so slightly under the weight of Paige’s gaze, let out a soft laugh. “Do you like it?” she teased, her voice laced with a hint of shyness despite her confident appearance.

Paige finally snapped her mouth shut, her lips curving into a goofy smile. “Woah… yeah…you look amazing, Azzi,” she managed, her voice quieter than usual.

Then she remembered the flowers still in her hand and thrust them forward a little awkwardly. “These are for you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her brown eyes sparkling as she took the bouquet. “Thank you,” she said warmly, clearly charmed by how flustered Paige was—a rarity for the usually self-absorbed blonde.

Azzi turned and walked back into the suite to find a vase for the flowers. Paige stayed rooted in place, still lingering by the doorway. Her gaze followed Azzi as the other girl moved effortlessly, her perfume lingering in the air where she had stood. Paige exhaled slowly, her heart pounding as she realized how completely Azzi had captivated her.

As Azzi walked back toward the door, her eyes flickered over Paige, taking in every detail. Paige had her hair down, slightly wavy—just the way Azzi liked it—and was wearing a knitted cardigan adorned with delicate flowers and a white shirt underneath it. Her patchwork blue jeans, with their various shades of denim, added a casual yet stylish touch that somehow made her look a little too good in Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi’s gaze lingered as she raked her eyes over Paige’s figure, a subtle appreciation shining in her expression. Paige, noticing this, seemed to regain her usual confidence. The nervous energy from earlier faded, replaced by a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“What?” Paige teased, her voice low and playful as she tilted her head. “You already eye fucking me, and we haven’t even left yet?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s sudden shift in demeanor, but her cheeks warmed as she laughed softly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she shot back, brushing past Paige and bumping her shoulder lightly.

Paige chuckled, stepping aside to let Azzi pass, but her smirk only deepened. “Come on,” she said, holding out her hand for Azzi to take. “Let’s get this date started before you decide you can’t wait.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her face as she slipped her hand into Paige’s. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already decided.”

…

When they arrived at the restaurant, Paige made a point to pull Azzi’s seat out for her, earning a soft, amused smile. After ensuring Azzi was comfortably seated, Paige settled into her own chair, her fingers lightly drumming on the table.

Azzi noticed the subtle nervous energy radiating from Paige and leaned forward, her smile warm and reassuring. “You know you don’t need to be nervous, right? It’s just us. We’ve had dinner together hundreds of times.”

Paige, not one to admit she was rattled, plastered on a confident grin. “Psh, nervous? Me? I’ve got this in the bag,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively, though her knee bouncing under the table told a different story.

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re such a liar. You’re literally fidgeting right now.”

Paige stilled her hands and raised a brow. “Okay, first of all, I’m not fidgeting. I’m just... uh, practicing my reflexes. Athletes do that, you know. Second, this is going to be the best date you’ve ever been on, so sit back and enjoy, Ms. Fudd.”

Azzi chuckled, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Paige smirked, relaxing slightly as they fell into their usual rhythm. The conversation shifted to light teasing like always

Azzi grinned as Paige described an admittedly clumsy move during practice earlier that week that led to a turnover. “So you’re saying your hands couldn’t keep up, huh?” Azzi teased, her voice dropping just enough to add a layer of meaning.

Paige rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “Not everyone has your freakishly perfect coordination, Az.”

“Good thing I remember you being pretty coordinated when it actually counts…” Azzi replied smoothly, her voice low and full of suggestion.

Paige froze mid-breath, her jaw dropping open as her brain scrambled to process Azzi’s words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk wide as she watched Paige’s stunned expression. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Before Paige could even think of a response, the waiter approached their table, her attention immediately drawn to Paige. With a charming smile, she addressed Paige warmly, completely ignoring Azzi.

Paige, however, didn’t even notice the waiter’s presence. Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Azzi, her expression a mix of desire, admiration, and pure shock.

Azzi glanced at the waiter, then back at Paige, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Earth to Paige,” she said teasingly, lightly kicking her under the table.

Paige blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. “Huh?” she mumbled, her head jerking toward the waiter, who was now waiting patiently with an amused expression.

The waiter gave Paige a quick once-over before flashing a flirtatious smile. “I was just asking, if you’re ready to order? I’m sure whatever you choose will be just as good as you look,” she said, her tone light and teasing.

Paige, still a little dazed, didn’t even acknowledge the compliment, her eyes having already drifted back to Azzi. Without missing a beat, she motioned toward Azzi, murmuring, “Um she’ll order for both of us.”

Azzi smirked at the subtle way Paige brushed the girl off. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, and she’ll have the filet mignon, medium, with a side of the mashed potatoes,” she said smoothly, locking eyes with the waiter.

The waiter gave a quick nod, clearly a little taken aback by Azzi’s effortless command, before she turned and walked away.

Azzi, not letting her teasing moment pass, leaned in and whispered, “You’re so easy to fluster, you know that?”

Paige finally shook herself out of her stupor, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You like making me do that, don’t you?”

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. It’s cute how much I can get to you with just a few words.”

Azzi and Paige continued their light conversation, the air between them easy and familiar as they waited for their food to come out.

As she returned with their food, her smile widening as she set the plates down in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Paige once more, and she leaned slightly closer than necessary. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, her voice soft, her tone unmistakably suggestive.

Paige, busy unwrapping her silverware, didn’t bother looking at the waiter. Instead, she gestured toward Azzi. “You can ask her,” she said dismissively, her tone a little flat.

Azzi’s lips twitched with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. With deliberate ease, she reached across the table, letting her hand rest just near Paige’s wrist. She kept her touch subtle, a silent claim that didn’t go unnoticed by Paige, whose posture relaxed slightly as she smiled to herself.

Azzi finally turned her gaze to the waiter, her smile polite but sharp. “We’re all set, thanks,” she said smoothly, her tone leaving no room for interpretation.

The waiter hesitated, clearly missing—or choosing to ignore—the subtext. She turned her attention back to Paige, leaning forward slightly. “Well, if you change your mind... you know where to find me,” she said, her eyes glinting with boldness as she lingered at the table longer than necessary.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her amusement growing at the audacity of the girl in front of her. So her fingers shifted, brushing just barely against Paige’s wrist now, her touch featherlight but deliberate. Paige’s breath slightly hitched, her eyes darting to Azzi as her face began to flush at the soft touch.

Azzi, clearly enjoying herself, leaned forward slightly. Her voice dropped, soft and teasing but with a possessive undertone that was impossible to miss. “Paige, baby,” she murmured, her thumb starting a slow, deliberate stroke against the inside of Paige’s wrist as she looked her in the eyes. “Is there anything you need from her?”

Paige’s lips parted, her breath slightly stuttering as she stared at Azzi in awe. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No... I'm good,” she said, the words rushed but sincere, clearly immersed in the control Azzi was putting forward.

Azzi smirked, her fingers sliding down to lightly intertwine with Paige’s. She didn’t grip too tightly, just enough to make her point as she finally turned her attention back to the waiter. “See? She’s good,” Azzi said, her tone sweet but pointed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The waiter faltered, her confidence cracking as her eyes flicked between them, taking in the subtle shift in Paige’s demeanor as she was once again completely immersed in Azzi. “I was just being friendly,” she said, her smile now strained.

Azzi’s smile tightened, and her grip on Paige’s hand squeezed just slightly, her thumb brushing along the back of Paige’s knuckles. “Friendly’s fine,” she said lightly, her tone still sweet but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Just not with her.”

The waiter finally seemed to understand she was losing ground. With a tight, awkward smile, she mumbled, “Well... enjoy your meal,” before walking away without another word.

As the waiter disappeared, Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her thumb lazily resuming its strokes against Paige’s hand. “That was cute,” Azzi teased, her smirk widening as she watched Paige squirm.

Paige groaned, finally tugging her hand free and leaning forward to hide her face in her hands. “You’re kinda crazy Az,” she muttered, though her soft laugh betrayed her words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk still firmly in place as she picked up her fork. “Well I guess that’s the first new thing you’ll learn about me,” she said casually, giving Paige a look. “I really don’t like sharing.”

Paige peeked at her from between her fingers, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Hmm. Wouldn’t have pegged you as the jealous type,” she said, her voice light but edged with curiosity.

Azzi’s smile widened as she shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about being jealous,” she replied smoothly.. She tilted her head toward where the waiter had retreated. “I just know how to put people in their place.”

Paige laughed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “No need,” she said casually. “I don’t see anybody but you at this point.”

The simplicity of Paige's words struck Azzi unexpectedly, and her heart fluttered in her chest. There was a warmth in the sincerity of it all, a reassurance that settled deep in her, and in that moment, Azzi realized how much she wanted to give herself over completely to Paige. It wasn’t just about the date or the playful teasing anymore—it was about something real, something she could feel in her bones.

A while later Azzi was grinning as Paige gave her another bite of her food, making her comment softly, “You know, this is the first date I’ve actually enjoyed.”

Paige cocked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cocky grin. “Of course it is,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “It’s me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile never wavering. “Whatever,” she muttered playfully, but the affection in her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t deny how much this meant to her.

Paige, with a teasing glint in her eye, reached for another bite of food, offering it to Azzi again. But Azzi raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock glare. “Are you actually going to eat any of your food, or are you just planning on giving it all to me?”

Paige shrugged with a mischievous grin. “You need to eat.”

Azzi glanced down at her plate, clearly making progress in her meal. “I’m eating,” she said, giving Paige an exaggerated look. Azzi picked up a forkful of her salmon and waved it in front of Paige’s face. “Here. You try it. It’s actually pretty good.”

Paige recoiled dramatically, holding up her hands. “Oh no, I’m good. You know I don’t do salmon.”

Azzi made a face, then went for the classic move. She looked at Paige with the most exaggerated, pleading puppy dog eyes she could muster. “Please? Just one bite? For me?”

Paige sighed dramatically, resisting for only a moment. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

But before Azzi could even manage a victorious grin, Paige relented. “Fine. One bite.” She said with mock reluctance and let Azzi feed her a bite of the salmon.

Paige chewed it slowly, her face a picture of careful deliberation. She swallowed and then, after a long pause, gave Azzi a look that was half-amused, half-disgusted.

Azzi was already smiling, clearly pleased with herself. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige grumbles in disagreement as she eats some of her food to get rid of the taste.

As they continued talking Paige was mid-bite when a small bit of mashed potato found its way to her lip. She didn’t notice at first but Azzi did. So with a playful smirk, Azzi reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Paige's skin as she gently wiped the spot from her lip with her index finger. As she pulled her hand back, Azzi made a deliberate show of slowly licking the mashed potato off her finger, her gaze locked with Paige’s the entire time. The movement was teasing, a mix of subtle flirtation and confidence that left Paige a little breathless.

Paige couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azzi as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she managed to speak, her voice low, almost a whisper as she simply said, “Azzi please.”

Azzi tilted her head innocently, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Yes, Paige?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what she was doing, loving the control she had over Paige.

Paige swallowed hard, her heart racing as she licked her lips. “You’re killing me tonight,” she murmured, her gaze never breaking from Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile widened, her voice dripping with teasing confidence as she leaned just slightly closer across the table. “I know, baby,” she replied smoothly.

The air around them seemed to shift. The noise of the restaurant, the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations—all faded into the background as Paige and Azzi stayed locked in each other’s gaze. Paige’s pupils dilated, her blue eyes growing darker under the intensity of Azzi’s stare.

Azzi, fully aware of the effect she was having, didn’t look away. There was a challenge in her gaze now, an unspoken dare, almost as if she was silently urging Paige to make the next move.

Paige clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to pull Azzi closer, to end the dinner and take her home. She could feel her composure slipping away, and Azzi, with that smile still firmly in place, was more than happy to push her further.

Azzi’s gaze never wavered as she subtly shifted her hand, her fingers brushing against Paige's with a deliberate slowness as she let their fingers intertwine, a small yet intimate gesture that sent a jolt of heat through Paige’s body. Azzi’s touch was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to completely throw off Paige’s concentration.

Paige had to close her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. She could barely think straight with the way Azzi was looking at her. So she took a slow breath, trying to ground herself, but Azzi’s hand holding hers kept her tethered in the moment.

“Open your eyes P,” Azzi’s voice was a whisper, but it carried authority, a command wrapped in sweetness. The edge in her tone made Paige’s stomach tighten.

Paige slowly opened her eyes, finding herself once again lost in the depths of Azzi’s gaze immediately. There was no escaping it now. She was completely under Azzi’s spell, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape at all. Azzi’s fingers tightened around hers, their palms pressed together as the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only them.

Azzi’s gaze softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her words carrying a mix of curiosity and something darker, something that Paige could feel even before the question left her lips.

Paige, unable to look away, let a slow smile curl at the corners of her mouth. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about,” she said, her voice low.

Azzi’s smile widened, her eyes flickering with mischief and desire. “Take me home then,” she said, the words slipping from her lips like a secret, a command wrapped in temptation.

That was all it took.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She threw a couple of bills onto the table—definitely more than enough to cover the tab—and stood up. Both of them heading for Paige’s car with a little extra pep in their step.

…

Once they get to the suite, Azzi starts walking towards her room, but Paige grabs her hand pulling her towards her room that’s further from Ice’s, trying to spare the girl.

Azzi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as she lets Paige lead her. As they step into Paige’s room she wastes no time shutting the door behind them and locking it.

Paige flicks on her led lamp to lightly illuminate the room and before she can gather her bearings, Azzi’s hands were on her, as she gently pushed her back against the door. Paige’s back hit it with a soft thud, her breath catching in her throat at Azzi’s confidence and her pulse quickening slightly as she met Azzi’s smile with a grin of her own. Azzi’s smile was a slow, teasing smile–one that made Paige feel like she was already a step behind in whatever was happening in Azzi’s head.

Azzi studied her for a moment, clearly enjoying the way Paige’s body seemed to melt at her touch. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons on Paige's cardigan, her fingers grazing the fabric as she slowly started unbuttoning it. "You always look so damn good," Azzi murmured, her voice soft but filled with heat. "You have no idea what you do to me. How you make me feel."

With each button undone, the white shirt underneath was revealed, the fabric clinging slightly to Paige’s frame, teasing Azzi. The room felt unbearably warm, and Paige was basically trembling, unsure if it was from desire or the intensity of Azzi's gaze.

Azzi stopped halfway through unbuttoning, her fingers still resting on the cardigan. "Tell me…" she whispered, leaning in close, her breath brushing against Paige's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Paige’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them coherent enough to form an answer. She could feel the heat of Azzi's body so close to hers, her lips barely brushing her ear with each whispered word. She couldn’t even formulate a response. She had never felt like this before, had never been the one with a loss of words.

Azzi smiled softly at Paige’s flustered expression, enjoying the way Paige’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she finished unbuttoning Paige’s sweater. With a deliberate slowness Azzi brushed the cardigan off Paige’s shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Her fingers trailed down Paige’s waist, coming to rest on her belt as she began undoing it as she watched Paige’s every reaction. Azzi's touch was firm but gentle, pulling Paige just slightly towards her, guiding them slowly toward the bed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Azzi's gaze was soft but undeniably commanding, filled with an unspoken promise that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

“I want you,” Azz whispered, her voice low and laced with desire. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Paige finally found her voice, her tone softer, almost vulnerable as she asked, “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. Without a flicker of doubt in her eyes, she nodded, the softness of her gaze only intensifying the fire between them.

Azzi’s confirmation was all Paige needed as she immediately reached for Azzi, pulling her into a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate, their breaths mingling as the moment consumed them. Azzi’s fingers, still toying with Paige’s belt, moved to undo it with an effortless confidence that made Paige’s pulse quicken.

Before she knew it, Paige was guiding Azzi backward the rest of the way toward the bed, her grip steady but filled with an unspoken urgency. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips, letting herself be pushed down, her body melting into the mattress.

The sight of Paige standing above her, her belt now hanging open and her eyes completely dilated with want was enough to make Azzi bite her lip, her gaze also dark. Her hand found its way to Paige’s loose belt gently tugging Paige toward her. “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she teased, her voice dripping with desire.

Azzi watches as Paige takes off her jeans, never breaking eye contact. As soon as she’s done she’s climbing on the bed, hovering over Azzi as their lips meet again, this time softer but no less consuming, Each kiss feeling like a promise, a declaration as they become lost in one another.

Paige’s hands moved expertly, finding the edges of Azzi’s blazer. With a gentle tug, she slipped it off Azzi’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing against Azzi's warm skin. Azzi sat up slightly to help, her eyes never leaving Paige’s as the blazer fell away, leaving her in the cropped black shirt that clung to her frame tightly.

Paige’s breath caught for a moment as her gaze roamed over Azzi, her hands lightly tracing along the hem of her shirt. “You’re incredible,” Paige whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

Azzi smiles at Paige’s words, her expression soft at the girl on top of her. Without saying a word, she reached up, pulling Paige toward her again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was much more intense than the last.

The kiss grew heavier with each moment, Paige swiping her tongue across Azzi’s lips asking for access that Azzi immediately grants as the world outside the room fades away, their focus narrowing to just the two of them. Azzi’s hands roam Paige’s sides, her touch firm, sending jolts of excitement through Paige’s skin.

Azzi breaks the kiss briefly, pushing Paige slightly back with a playful smirk. Paige looked at her, breathless, as Azzi’s hands reached for the hem of her shirt. With a smooth motion, Azzi pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside before meeting Paige’s gaze again who had also quickly discarded her white shirt.

The sight of Azzi like this left Paige momentarily stunned. But before she could linger on the image too long trying to capture it for memory, Azzi pulled her back in, their lips meeting again matching the intensity right where they left off.

Azzi began making soft noises into Paige’s mouth, each sound sending a warmth through her body. It drove Paige absolutely crazy, her restraint slipping more and more with every passing second.

“Fuck Azzi,” Paige murmured, her voice low as she pulled back just enough to begin pressing her lips to Azzi’s neck. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Azzi let out another quiet, breathy moan at the attention she was getting, her hands grabbing Paige’s waist as she tilted her head to the side granting Paige better access. “I think I do,” she whispered, her voice teasing but strained.

Paige’s lips and teeth worked along Azzi’s neck, her kisses alternating between soft and firm as she trailed down to the delicate curve where Azzi’s shoulder met her collarbone. Azzi’s hands slide up Paige’s back, pulling her impossibly closer. “Right there baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice breaking slightly as Paige’s lips and tongue lingered on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Shit you feel so good,” Azzi breathed, her words almost inaudible but thick with emotion.

Her voice was like music to Paige’s ears, the way it shook with every touch drove her to keep going. Paige’s lips curled into a slight smile against Azzi’s skin as she dragged her mouth lower, savoring the soft gasps and whispered encouragement Azzi continued to spill.

“Perfect,” Azzi murmured, when Paige’s lips met her waist. Her voice melted into something low and satisfied. “You’re perfect.”

Paige groaned softly at the words, her hands tightening on Azzi’s hips as she whispered back, “You’re killing me Azzi baby.”

Azzi laughed softly, though it was laced with breathlessness. “Then don’t hold back,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. “I don’t want you to.” Before Azzi could even process what she was asking for, the rest of her clothes were pulled off skilfully in a quick motion.

Paige’s actions fueled by Azzi’s words, every whispered encouragement and breathless murmur driving her as she finally gave Azzi exactly what she wanted, pouring every ounce of her desire and affection into her touch.

Azzi made sure Paige knew exactly how much she was enjoying every moment of it. Her voice a symphony of soft gasps, murmured praises, and loud moans, echoing through the room without a care for who might hear.

“Fuck baby…yes just like that,” Azzi said breathlessly, her hands threading through Paige’s hair, tugging lightly as her head titled back and her hips moved to reach Paige’s movements. “Don’t stop..please, don’t stop.”

Paige just hummed as she pressed closer, her lips and hands working in perfect rhythm, completely consumed by Azzi’s responses. Each sound Azzi made spurring her on more, her own restraint dissolving as she focused on the girl beneath her.

“You’re amazing,” Azzi murmured, her voice trembling with raw emotion, her nails grabbing Paige’s shoulders. “I need you, Paige. Just you.”

Paige’s heart raced at the confession, her fingers growing more intense as she kissed her way back to Azzi’s lips, capturing her in a passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Azzi’s laughter bubbled up between gasps, a mix of pure joy and overwhelming sensation at the way Paige was touching her. “You’re going to make me lose my mind,” she admitted, her voice shaky but full of affection, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she spoke.

Paige’s fingers continued their rhythm inside Azzi, as her voice dipped into a tone so soft yet full of conviction. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words wrapping around Azzi. “Every part of you, Azzi…I could get lost in your forever.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Paige’s voice, her chest rising and falling as she clung to the words. Paige didn’t stop there, leaning closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she added, “You’re everything to me Az. So perfect. I promise you I’m only yours.”

The praise sent so much warmth through Azzi and she arched slightly, her head tilting back as her lips parted. “Paige..” she murmured her voice trembling with emotion. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s back, holding onto her as if she were her anchor, grounding her in this moment.

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering, her brown eyes dark with passion yet soft with adoration. Paige’s blue eyes mirrored the same intensity, her pupils dilated as she took in every inch of the girl beneath her.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Azzi whispered, her voice breathy but firm, her fingers digging into Paige’s skin as her fingers curled perfectly inside of her.

Azzi began trembling beneath Paige biting her lip trying to hold onto some resemblance of control, her body completely attuned to every touch, every word, the way their gaze was locked onto one another. Her breathing became uneven, her chest rising and falling as if she was trying to steady herself but kept failing. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Paige wasn’t having it.

“Azzi,” Paige whispered, her voice low but commanding, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she hovered over her. “Look at me,”

Azzi’s long lashes flickered as she tried to open her eyes but the feeling was too much for her. Paige’s free hand gently cupped her jaw, her thumb brushing over her cheek as she spoke again, this time softer but just as firm. “Open your eyes, Az. I want you to look at me while you finish for me baby.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her lids lifting slowly until their eyes met once more. The second their gazes locked it was like Azzi couldn’t take anymore as her mouth fell open, the sheer intimacy of the moment causing a sound to escape Azzi’s lips–louder and more unrestrained than she expected. It was uncharacteristically loud for someone usually so composed but she didn’t care. “God, baby right there... please Paige... don't…fuck please don’t stop,” every word laced with need and vulnerability before she’s throwing her head back coming undone for Paige.

Paige smiles at the sound of Azzi's voice as she leans in and kisses her slowly, their tongue tasting every part of each other as Paige's pace slows, just enough to make Azzi's body ache with the contrast. Azzi's breath comes in shallow gasps, every inch of her skin alive with need.

Paige’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile, her thumb still stroking Azzi’s cheek. “You did so good for me,” she murmured, her words laced with affection and pride.

Azzi’s grip tightened on Paige’s back as she was still trying to anchor herself. Her voice trembled as she replied, “You… you’re going to ruin me, Paige.”

Paige leaned closer, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she whispered, “I won’t baby, I got you. I promise.”

The exchange sent another wave of shivers through Azzi, her body arching instinctively toward Paige as she started moving again, unable to resist the pull between them. She looks up at Paige pleading for something-anything more.

Paige notices the way Azzi's body trembles under her, how her breath hitches every time she curls her fingers. Her voice drops, soothing but commanding, "Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

The words themselves are almost a command, but they're gentle, like a touch trying to calm the chaos in Azzi’s chest as it rises and falls rapidly, trying to obey, but she feels the pressure inside her building again, tighter this time. Paige's thumb presses into her as she continues her movements deliberate but slow, a stark contrast to how Azzi's body wants to react.

Paige can tell Azzi’s body is going into overdrive so she starts speaking to her. "Focus on me," Paige murmurs near Azzi’s ear, her voice smooth and low, sending ripples of warmth through Azzi. "Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow." She moves her hand in small, measured circles, pushing Azzi right to the edge and pulling her back. "You're doing so good Azzi. Just breathe through it, baby. Let me guide you."

Azzi's entire body is trembling, her mind racing to keep up with the ebb and flow of pleasure. It feels like it's almost too much, but Paige's steady control-her voice, her hands keeps her grounded. The way she talks to her, calm but firm, drives Azzi crazy, and all she can do is follow, surrendering her body to the rhythm Paige has set.

"Tell me how it feels," Paige says, softly. "I wanna hear you some more for me baby."

Azzi opens her mouth, but no coherent words come out-only the sound of desperate, broken breaths as she forces herself to focus on Paige, her voice, her eyes, her touch.

"Feels... feels so good, Paige baby... I can't-" Her voice cracks, the tension too much to contain, but Paige doesn't speed up. She waits, her touch still steady.

"Good just like that baby. Breathe. You're almost there," Paige whispers, coaxing Azzi through it, her own voice filled with desire and pure admiration of the girl underneath her.

Azzi looks up at Paige, her eyes glazed over with need as she’s straining to keep them open. She trembles slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she murmurs, "P I can’t— I can't take anymore."

Paige’s hand shifts to lightly wrap around Azzi’s neck, gently but firmly guiding her gaze to her eyes, making sure she doesn’t look away. She squeezes slightly, her thumb brushing across Azzi’s skin as she speaks, her voice steady but soft, full of encouragement. “Yes, you can. Just relax baby. Let me make you feel good.”

Azzi nods, trying to steady her racing heart, her breaths shallow as she sinks into the rhythm of Paige's touch. As Paige squeezes again, Azzi’s hand moves to cover Paige’s, her fingers curling around hers, squeezing tighter as she gazes directly into Paige’s eyes. The sensation sparks something deep inside her, and without breaking eye contact, she whispers, "Harder, baby."

The words are a desperate plea, the intensity of her need clear in her voice. Paige’s eyes never leave Azzi’s as her breath hitches and the pressure builds. Azzi, feeling her body react, presses her hips closer to Paige’s movements, her chest rising and falling faster. “Fuck Paige right there, don’t stop,” Azzi breathes out, her voice low and almost frantic. “Mmm make me feel it baby, show me how much you miss fucking me.”

Paige tightens her grip, feeling Azzi’s pulse beneath her fingertips, and Azzi’s body continues to tremble with anticipation as Paige quickens her movements, fingers curling as she moves in and out of Azzi. Paige’s voice is low, almost teasing, as she murmurs, “You’re taking it so well baby fuck, you look so good under me.”

Azzi’s fingers curl tighter around Paige’s wrist, urging her on. “Yes, just like that,” Azzi whispers, her voice filled with a desire that only Paige can satisfy. “Harder, please Paige, don’t stop. You feel so good.”

Paige’s touch becomes more deliberate, the pressure firm and her movements unrelenting as Azzi’s breathing quickens. She feels the way Azzi’s body reacts, every tremble and sigh pushing her to give her more. Paige leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispers, “You’re so gorgeous baby, so perfect…I always knew how pretty you would sound.”

Azzi moans softly, unable to stop the sounds escaping her lips, each one more desperate than the last as Paige’s gaze burns into her. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them thick a shared silence where only the sound of their heavy breathing and Paige’s fingers moving in and out of Azzi remains.

After a few more seconds, Azzi's body gives in, a burning release overtaking her body again as she arches her back off the bed. A chorus of breathless moans escaping her lips.

Paige's heart stirs at the sight as she removes her hand from Azzi’s neck immediately and without hesitation. She leans down, kissing her cheek gently as if she's taking away the last bit of tension that still clung to Azzi's body. She whispers, "God you're so beautiful Az. You mean everything to me," before leaning her lips down to Azzi's, their kiss soft, almost loving.

Azzi's eyes flutter shut, her hands coming down to wrap around Paige's head as she lets the kiss ground her. It's slow and tender and everything Azzi needs.

Paige starts kissing down Azzi’s body, ready to keep going but Azzi’s hand shoots out, gently but firmly stopping her. Her breath comes in shaky gasps as she looks at Paige with exhaustion and a small sight of desire. “Baby…I can’t. Physically… I can’t take anymore right now, I need a break.” She says, her voice strained, the edge of exhaustion clear.

Paige’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, the challenge in her eyes only growing more playful. Before she can say anything, Azzi—still struggling to catch her breath—manages a shaky smile and jokes, “Shut up, Paige. Seriously, just… shut up for a second."

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I’ll give you a break but I hope you can keep up because I plan on doing this all night,” she teased softly, her voice low and dripping with warmth.

Azzi responded with a quiet hum of agreement, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair to pull her back into another soft slow kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of the night still ahead.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up groggily, the bright sunlight streaming through the window making it impossible to stay asleep. She stirred, trying to stretch, but stopped when she felt a comforting weight pinning her down. Azzi’s body was draped halfway over her, the other half sprawled across the bed. Paige couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on Azzi’s face, her soft features illuminated by the morning light.

A quiet laugh escaped Paige’s lips as she realized Azzi was definitely going to blame her for letting her fall asleep without her bonnet, she could already hear the teasing tone in her voice.

As if sensing Paige’s thoughts, Azzi began to stir, a groan slipping past her lips as she shielded her eyes from the sun. “Ugh, why is it so bright?” she mumbled, echoing Paige’s earlier thoughts.

Paige chuckled softly, shifting her body to block the sunlight from hitting Azzi’s face. “Better?” she asked gently, her voice warm and teasing.

When Azzi finally looked up at her, a sleepy smile spread across her face, her dimples appearing as her cheeks flushed slightly. “Good morning, pretty girl,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with affection.

Azzi’s smile grew wider at the compliment, but she quickly tried to hide her face against Paige’s chest. “Mmm, too sleepy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Paige laughed quietly and carefully shifted out from under Azzi, earning a small, dissatisfied grumble from her. She walked over to the window, pulling the blackout curtains closed and plunging the room into a comforting darkness.

As she returned to the bed, Azzi wasted no time, tugging Paige back down and pulling her close but before Paige could settle in, Azzi leaned up to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Paige’s heart immediately fluttered at the tenderness of the moment, how casual Azzi was about it.

“Go back to sleep,” Azzi whispered, her words barely audible as she rested her head on Paige’s chest once more.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and with Azzi’s steady breaths against her, Paige felt a sense of peace she hadn’t ever experienced. Slowly, they both drifted back to sleep as Paige realized she was completely in love with the girl laying on her chest.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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