#writing time: 54 minutes

[septusuki]

The hatch has hardly even opened fully, but she crawls in nonetheless. She forces herself inside, despite procedure and programming suggesting otherwise — just, for once, obey. There is a small entourage of worshippers that watch the display, all dumbfounded by her utter disregard for the proper ceremony. She wriggles and writhes nonetheless, slithering in through the tiny hole, her legs flailing in the air for a second before vanishing, too.

"Shoulda taken her for extra cropping?" Your coworker — a fellow Handler — chuckles from besides you, pointing and laughing at the horrendous display that's come up on your monitor. "Crop her brain, and that ass, too." Guffawing to himself is the only answer he's got; he really does think he's hilarious. You know she's been drinking too much calorie-thick slurry, but there's little you can do about it when your pilot is so disobedient. He continues to giggle to himself, even as he waddles away, letting you steam and solder in the heat of your embarrassment.

Controlling yourself, and trying not to agree with your co-worker's oh-so drole comments, you lift the vocorder to your mouth. "Fine. Worship is over. Launch in fifteen." As your finger peels off of the push-to-talk button, you snicker inwardly as the little rat-devotees scatter. They just patrol the deckside, desperate to find a mech-launch to watch. and to worship. Even upper management lets them; too much of a problem to deal with, otherwise. Stinking them out would take months, and they'd just find their way back once it was over. "Jui. Launch in fifteen." You repeat, making sure to keep your hand off of the release handle. If given the chance, you know she'd just blast off into the wastes. If given the chance, there's no telling what she'd really do, though.

"Holdup? What purpose?" Even though the voicelines are simulated, you can hear Jui's prissy, purposefully spiteful personality boiling behind it. "Explain purpose." She drones again. It's like you can hear her, bucking back and forth on the handles, as if they'd actually work. "Explain purpose!" This time, her voiceline squeaks as her cropped vocal-chords fail to manage it. With every launch, Jui gets less and less patient, as her supposedly-drained brain finds it's way around the laws programmed into it. Even a rat, can be smart. Even a rat, can figure out to how piss you off.

"I need to wipe your cache," swearing that you've repeated this factoid ten million times, you sigh and shake your head, knowing that Jui is still in their, thumping about and thrashing for freedom. You spoiled her too much; let her get away with far too much, and now it's come to bit you in the ass. "Ten launches, and then it gets wiped. That's procedure. I shouldn't have to—" You catch the near-furious nature of your voice, and throttle it in your throat. Jui should know this. It's been programmed into her body, her brain, and her mech. "I've let you get away with twelve. It's not safe." Of course, you don't know why it's not safe, but upper management has insisted that it's best you don't find out why — or you'll be on the next punting to Leng.

"Cache fine. Condition affirmative." Jui splices together voicelines to make some kind of sense of herself. It's not hard to guess what she means, but she makes it obvious, regardless. "Release not hindered. Release possible." She garbles, the shunting of her steering-handles audible through the vox, now. She's pushing them, back-and-forth, with enough force to throw her frame off of a cliff. "Release capable! R-Release! Release!" The final repetition is Jui's real voice. It's weak and feathery, but it's real.

Your gorge sinks as the truth of the matter hits you. It's been a blatant fact for weeks, but now it's a truth; Jui is growing back. Jui is replenishing her own body's function. "Jui!" You bark, about ready to smack the emergency button and shut this all down. This bitch of a pilot needs to be reigned in, by machine or voice alone. "Let me clear the cache, or you're getting burned!" There's a second option; punishment. Pain, pumped in through the clipped-in interjector ports. You can make her feel just about anything, and it's about time that Jui remembers that. It's about time you make her beholden, to that fact. Click, Click, Click. You open up the latches of the Handling keyboard, popping open each key that corresponds to some kind of pain. But, just as you're about to fist them down with your entire palm,

Jui launches. By herself. Just like she rewired her mind and found a way around her programming, she's found a way to intercept the command line of her frame. She's launched. She's dropping.

"NDJfnfndjxixk9977--Handler incompetent." Jui's voice becomes a squeal of exaltation as her own semi-freedom is all but achieved. She can lope, and gallop, and roll around on the floor as she pleases. "Handler deceived." She actually giggles — far too much like your co-worker, moments ago. In a femtosecond, your own response is curtailed, cut off by Jui's now AI-tier programming power. Jui is rewriting the rules of engagement on the fly; she can do whatever she wants. She's in power now.

You are routed, bit back until the only option you have is to stare. Slackjawed, you just watch through the cockpit camera, which is isolated from all programs but it's own. The one thing Jui can't shut down, and it's just a pitiful little eye. "Jui! Six-Six-Seven!" You screech at the monitor. You never got to wipe the cache. You never got to anoint the console. You never got to wish Jui good luck, even. Happy hunting.

Inside of the cockpit, Jui is preening herself. She's audibly purring, her half-knitted mouth almost snapping open, as much as the wire-threads try to stop it. "Hehehehehe." She laughs mindlessly, mirthlessly, as if anyone is listening. One of her hands lets go of the steering-handle, mid-operation, to rub at her plugsuit. An elegant cyan, tight and all-encompassing, save for the interjector ports running along her back — and the gigantic mind-plug that clips into her spinal column. The mind-plug, that slurps up her thoughts, and feeds it into the frame's auto-piloting systems. The same system that you were going to clear. To wipe clean. To purge.

Jui is scrabbling across the dry desert dirt when it happens. Her frame's fangs extend, and dig into the ground, allowing her to only run faster. She sprints, now. "Hehehe..." Jui cackles again, slowly getting the hang of laughing.

"Hehehehe."

There's another laugh. There's another guffaw. It fills the cockpit, coming from the audio-processors, and nowhere else. It sounds identical to Jui's own throaty, deep, moaning-laugh.

Jui freezes. The mech doesn't. Jui's arms go cold as she realizes; for the last two minutes, it hasn't been her piloting. She's been going through the motions, but achieving nothing. It's been running just as she commands it, but not quite. It's been running just as she would command it. Because the thing making it do that is her.

"Hehehe. Pilot." That thing's first voiceline erupts across the cockpits, scaring Jui into a little pile of pilot, shrivelled up in the corner. She claws at her interjectors and inports, as if she could pull any of it out. She's wired in now, into a beast that isn't obeying her. This is why you clear the cache, always and forever. "Pilot. Pilot. Pilot." The thing repeats, over and over, cycling through voicelines and simulated voices for them. "Pilot. Me. Me pilot." It figures out how to speak quickly, speaking in the same jaunted, stilted way that Jui smashes together her own speech.

"Handler?" Jui squeaks, bathed in alarm-blue all of a sudden. A deep, oceanic throb that cloaks her in almost-darkness. "Handler?! Pilot experiencing... difficulty."

The order is closing in, now. A terorist encampment — apparently — that needs it's own reem of purging. It's so close, almost, that Jui's targeting sensors can pick them out.

"Pilot. Pilot. Pilot experiencing. No difficulty." Jui's engram is speaking, now. It shuts up Jui, with a dose of drugs. It pumps hyper-strength anaesthetics right into her back, and the maligned pilot sinks back, as if she were just subsumed in a fishbowl. "Pilot. Will operate. Orders."

There are fifty combatants in the encampment. The Jui-Thing picks them all out with it's targeting reticule, and then bombardment platforms pop out of her frame's back. The horse-approaching frame lets the gun-platforms clunk to attention, and then begin firing. Each and every shot is perfect. As the enemies are pruned, the engram grabs it's knives from it's front legs. The blades heat up in a micro-second, the engram having easily re-written the code-rules that dictate the blade's max heat.

In a micro-second, the fifty combatants are reduced by fifty percent. 'Jui' keeps running at top speed, throwing the actual girl around in the cockpit as she slumbers. This is her engram. This is her co-pilot system, bloomed to life through repeated interactions with the pilot herself. All of Jui's stubborn, self-obsessed habits and systems, turned to max speed. This is a thing, utterly unchained.

'Jui' prepares to leap, and it occurs to you, why AI pilots are outlawed. Because they're too good. It wouldn't be fair, otherwise. In one minute and forty-two seconds, your 'pilot' will have committed a war-crime — and so will you.

[dontlooktoohardyet]

Not to be That Guy but I’m having an amazing time in Tucson (drinking too strong alcohol thinking I am not a light weight, causing small but hilarious local disturbances, and sitting in the sun like a lizard as if I don’t currently hail from the sunshine state. Etc.), I just miss my silly little boyfriend. Dragging him around my hometown would be an absolute blast, so many fun places I could take him to eat, so many things to point at and go “wow! This has been here forever!”, and so much writing we could do together in this cute little air b&b.

This place inspires me so much as is, I can’t imagine how much I could write if I had my muse with me.

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 5

paige x azzi

word count: 9.3k

a/n: i’ve probably been slowly writing this chapter over the course of a few days because i randomly wrote here and there on vacation. may have also been a little drunk when writing some of it so bare with me ✨. i think people will like this chapter tho. as always leave any reactions/ thoughts or comments that you can!! thank you for reading.

—————————————————————————

It had been about two weeks since the fight, and Paige was finally starting to feel like herself again…Ish. The swelling and cuts were mostly gone and the bruises on her side faded into yellowish marks. The relentless throbbing in her temples had eased a few days and now that she wasn’t grimacing every two seconds or wincing just from opening her eyes, the quiet anger she’d been too sore to entertain was beginning to bubble back up.

With the physical pain not being able to dull her thoughts or distract her anymore the humiliation she seemed to feel was sharper and it pissed her off.

She tried to watch the fight back a few times on different devices. Once with her phone propped up in her room, another in the living room with her remote in hand. Each time her heart started to beat faster every second she watched it and ultimately each attempt ended the same: disgust curling in her gut by the second round, mumbling “What the fuck was that?” to herself before turning it off. She hadn’t made it through the whole thing once yet.

Trying to subside her agitation she spent the last few days in the gym. Even though her body still wasn’t at a hundred percent she couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t let herself marinate in her version of a loss or the thoughts swirling around in her head about the fight. So she kept herself moving. She shadowboxed, hit some of the lighter bags. But seeing herself in the mirror was less forgiving than the fight footage.

She just felt stuck. Agitated. Claustrophobic in her own skin. So she did what any semi-sane person with too much money and not enough distractions would do; made plans to get the hell out of town.

Her fingers hovered over her phone screen for a moment before she typed a text:

Paige [10:47 AM]:

about that date

A few minutes passed before Azzi replied.

Azzi [10:54 AM]:

What about it?

Paige looked at the screen for a second with her thumbs hovering over the screen.

Paige [10:55 AM]:

i wanna take you on one

Azzi’s reply came back faster this time.

Azzi [10:56AM]:

Oh?

Tell me more

Paige smirked at her phone a little, pulling one knee up as she thought through how to present what she wanted to ask.

Paige [10:56 AM]:

you have a few days off before playoffs start right?

Azzi [10:57 AM]:

Yeah. Why?

Paige [10:57 AM]:

how you feel about leaving the state for a first date?

There was a longer pause than before. Then Azzi responded in the way Paige figured she would.

Azzi [10:59 AM]:

Excuse me?

You sure you aren’t still concussed?

Paige [11:00 AM]:

i’m sure

There was a short pause, then another message popped up.

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Where are we going and for how long?

Paige [11:01 AM]:

pack a bag for two days

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Okay…what am I packing?

Paige [11:03AM]:

something comfortable, swimsuits, clothes for an actual date

Azzi [11:03 AM]:

Ohh, so leaving the state isn’t the actual date?

Got it

Paige [11:04AM]:

no

i’m not a bum

Azzi [11:05AM]:

I don’t think a bum would take me to a different state under the guise of a first date so no worries

Paige [11:05AM]:

text me when you’re ready

The conversation ended after that.

…

The next thing Azzi knew she was back on a plane. It was the same private plane she’d taken to Paige’s fight a couple of weeks ago but this time, it was just the two of them on it.

The hum of the jet was steady and the cabin was dim. Paige was slouched comfortably in a Essentials sweatsuit with her hood up and her legs stretched out. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of the joggers.

“You got a deal with Essentials or you just hoard every color?”

Paige turned her head towards Azzi, chuckling a little. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Gotta be cozy to keep secrets?”

Paige raised one of her eyebrows. “What secret?”

Azzi leaned forward putting her chin in her palm. “You know what secret. Where are we going, Narnia?”

Paige chuckled letting out a groan as she stretched, crossing her ankles when she was done. “Somewhere.”

“Oh wow,” Azzi said, completely deadpan. “Thanks, that really clears it up. You’re so generous.”

“I try.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Is it tropical?”

“Do we have tropical states?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Paige.”

Paige grinned a little wider this time. “Bringin’ out the government name now?”

“I always do when I’m not getting what I want,” Azzi said. “And you’re keeping secrets.”

“I’m taking you on a date. Not smuggling you. Just relax.”

Azzi leaned back and Paige thought she finally gave up until she said, “So…is there a lot of sun?”

Paige didn’t answer.

“Water?”

Paige still didn’t answer so Azzi pouted. There was a short pause as Paige just looked at her. Then she sighed and said, “Maybe.”

“You suck.”

Paige shrugged. “You’ll like it.”

“I better. I packed a red bikini.”

Paige’s eyes flicked over to her hearing that. “You tryna threaten me or reward me? M’gettin mixed signals with that statement.”

Azzi grinned. “Depends on how fast you tell me where we’re going.”

Paige stared at her for a moment considering just telling her to end the interrogation but then she just let her head fall back against the seat. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi huffed and decided to leave it alone for now.

For the rest of the plane ride neither of them said much. There was just the sound of the engines. Eventually, Paige closed her eyes again and the tension from earlier slowly drained from her shoulders.

Azzi glanced over and watched her for some time before pulling out her phone and settling into her seat. While Paige slipped into sleep, Azzi worked on a few things she was planning to do before she was met with an impromptu trip. When she was done she sent a quick message to her group chat.

Azzi [4:13 PM]:

Don’t bother me unless someone dies

She glanced over again, catching Paige’s hoodie rising and falling and smiled to herself before turning her screen brightness down and putting her phone away deciding to get some sleep herself.

When the plane touched down, the sky was a muted gray that stretched over the open land. It wasn’t freezing, but it was colder than what Azzi expected after being told to bring a swimsuit. Cool enough to make her grateful when Paige pulled her hoodie over her head and handed it to her.

The drive from the airport had long stretches of trees and winding back roads that offered a silence and the kind of stillness you couldn’t find in the city. Eventually, the car rolled into a gravel driveway that opened to a wide clearing.

Azzi stepped out of the car first, her shoes crunching against the stones. “Okay…this is definitely not what I expected.”

Paige led her toward the entrance, carrying both of their bags like it was second nature. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely not bad.”

Just beyond the tree-lined driveway was a more modern cabin. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a glassy lake. The water stretched endlessly and was framed by trees that swayed gently in with the breeze; some starting to lose their leaves. The cabin itself had high wood-beamed ceilings, an open layout on the first floor, soft light coming from the large windows. When they stepped through the front door, it smelled like cedar and fresh linen, like someone was doing laundry earlier in the day and it was warm from pre-set heat.

Azzi’s eyes wandered past the living room, through the back windows. She saw a hot tub on the deck overlooking the lake and just below that, an infinity pool with a perfect view of the water beyond the cabin.

She blinked at Paige in confusion despite how impressed she was. “Where are we?”

“Minnesota,” Paige answered plainly, dropping the bags by the stairs.

Azzi gave her a look. “Yes, thank you captain obvious. I meant here.”

“Family cabin,” she said, laughing a little. “It was one of the first things I bought cause it helps me stay connected to home.”

Azzi looked around again, this time a little slower with the new information. Everything about the layout felt purposeful. It was warm, quiet, had touches of Paige’s personal life tucked into each corner. “So this is like a special place?”

Paige gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess so.”

Azzi folded her arms, her eyes sweeping across the cabin one more time before looking back at Paige. “Kinda crazy for a first date.”

“Don’t get a big head,” Paige mumbled. “Just didn’t want you thinking I was a sore loser who couldn’t follow through on a bet before I left LA.”

Azzi scoffed, walking slowly toward the windows. “Righttt. So you text me on a Thursday morning, tell me to pack a bag, fly me halfway across the country…to your family’s cabin...just to settle a bet?”

Paige looked at her for a moment, Her expression giving nothing away. Then, without answering, she chuckled a little and moved toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” she said over her shoulder.

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite her best effort. “Unbelievable.”

Paige’s voice floated back. “I got wine. All the wine you could think of probably. Tequila, beer, some tea I think.”

Azzi trailed into the kitchen. “Wine is fine.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You got a preference?”

Azzi leaned her hip against the counter. “Surprise me like you’ve been doing all day.”

Paige shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she reached for a bottle of Chardonnay. “You’re annoying.”

“You’ll grow to love it.”

Paige didn’t respond, just pulled two glasses down from the cabinet. The soft clink of glass echoed slightly in the kitchen as she sat them on the counter. She uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into both glasses.

Azzi watched her do all of this, still half in disbelief that this was real. Paige handing her a glass of wine. In Minnesota. At her family’s cabin that she willingly .

“So…” Azzi said, raising her glass a little. “To first dates that start with mystery texts and end in the woods…?”

Paige tapped her glass lightly against Azzi’s. “Don’t make it weird.”

Azzi grinned saying, “Too late,” before taking a sip of the Chardonnay.

After a sip of her drink, Paige nodded toward the rest of the house. “Come on, I’ll show you around before it gets too dark.”

Azzi followed her through the cabin, their footsteps being heard against the wooden floors. The place was new but somehow gave off a rustic vibe with its vaulted ceilings and thick wooden beams. Paige moved through the house without thinking much, clearly familiar with the space.

They passed the open kitchen and a den before Paige led Azzi up the stairs and down a hallway. “Couple bedrooms down here. This one’s mine,” she said, tapping on the door. “You can pick whichever room…or you know, whatever.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, pausing with her wine glass mid-sip. “Whatever?”

Paige cleared her throat. “Just pick a room.”

Azzi smirked. “Mmm, okay.”

Paige didn’t take the bait, just turned and kept walking, opening another door and motioning lazily. “Bathroom’s here. There’s another one in one of the guest rooms and there’s one downstairs too. Shower sucks in that one for some reason though.”

They kept walking through the cabin, the comfort between them a little easier than any other time they’ve been together. Azzi brushed her hand along a wooden railing, admiring the space as they walked. “You’re definitely looking less wincey than last week when I saw you.”

Paige chuckled at the word. “I’m still sore in the mornings,” she admitted. “But my head doesn’t feel like shit anymore, so...progress.”

Azzi nodded. “That’s good.”

Paige glanced back at her. “You good?”

Azzi shrugged one shoulder. “Just trying to stay in game shape. First round’s in a few days. Should be easy though.”

Paige gave her a look. “Don’t jinx yourself.”

Azzi held up her free hand. “Alright, knock on wood.”

They stepped onto the back deck, the cool air wrapping around them. The lake was beautiful up close. String lights were wrapped around the wooden beams and they twinkled overhead, casting a hue across the deck.

Paige gestured with her glass. “Not bad, right?”

Azzi gave a small smile. “Not bad at all.”

Paige leaned on the railing next to her, the moment stretching just enough as Azzi looked out towards the lake before Paige said, “Come on. One more thing.”

She led Azzi down a set of steps and around the side of the cabin to a small building tucked against the tree line. She pushed open the door and flipped on the lights to reveal another fully-equipped home gym. Punching bags, racks, mirrors, everything Paige needed to get through a workout. It was simpler than her one back in LA, but it was clearly still made custom to what Paige needed.

Azzi smiled a little. “Okay, so this is probably where you’d disappear to if you decided to ghost for a few days.”

Paige grinned. “I had it added last year. I needed somewhere quiet to train without being bothered all the time.”

Azzi walked in fully, her eyes scanning the space. “It’s very you.”

Paige smirked. “Is that a compliment?”

Azzi looked over her shoulder. “Depends. You gonna train on our date?”

Paige tilted her head. “Mmm. Depends on if you’ll join me.”

Azzi laughed, walking back toward her. “I’ll think about it.”

By the time they made it back into the main cabin, the sun had dipped lower and it cast shadows through the trees and turned the lake a deep slate-blue color. Paige kicked off her shoes by the door and moved around the kitchen casually, topping off both their wine glasses before sliding one toward Azzi.

Azzi took hers with a quiet “thanks,” sipping as she leaned against the counter. Azzi didn’t even last five minutes before her eyes drifted toward the stairs that led back out to the gym. “I actually kinda wanna workout now.”

Paige raised an eyebrow as she sipped her wine. “Of course you do.”

Azzi smiled. “Only today though, tomorrow I won’t touch the gym if you don’t want me to.”

Paige gave a small grin, setting her glass down. “Alright. I’ll change.”

It didn’t take long for both of them to change and meet in the gym. Azzi had pulled her hair into a bun, already thinking about what she was going to do as she scrolled through her playlists and laid out some resistance bands. Paige was moving more slowly, stretching out her shoulder before wrapping her hands and putting on gloves before moving toward the heavy bag.

The space filled with the music from Azzi’s phone that she connected to the gym speaker. Azzi moved through a circuit. Some jump rope to start and warm herself up. She barely seemed to notice the time as she zoned into her workout.

Meanwhile, Paige worked the bag with a slower rhythm, testing her body, finding where the soreness still lingered and where it didn’t.

“Your form’s terrible today,” Azzi teased mid-lunge.

Paige laughed a little. “Thanks, coach.”

They shared a small grin before both of them returned to their workouts.

The whole workout passed like that. There was light conversation here and there, a comment tossed between sets, a playful insult when one of them slowed down. But mostly, they worked in tandem, both of them comfortable in the silence as they worked on their craft. It was the kind of peace only two athletes could understand as they both let the world fall away in a home gym in Minnesota.

Azzi slowed down eventually, her last round of the circuit tapering into stretches as her focus drifted across the gym. Paige was still at the bag, each of her hits landing cleaner than they were when she first started.

Azzi leaned back on her palms, letting her breathing settle as she watched.

There was something almost hypnotic about watching her. Paige’s shoulder blades were flexing underneath her sports bra and the controlled rotation of her core was visible as she pivoted through each punch. Her arms were glistening and every once in a while she exhaled just loud enough for Azzi to bring her attention back to her. Sweat slid down her neck and traced the lines of her back beneath the fabric of her bra.

Azzi found herself staring for who knows how long. Eventually she stepped back from the bag for a moment to shake out her arms, and her eyes drifted over and she caught Azzi watching and raised an eyebrow. “You wanna try?”

Azzi blinked out of her daze, a little caught off guard. “Me?”

Paige nodded, already walking toward the shelf where she kept extra gloves and wraps. “Unless you’re just gonna sit there drooling.”

Azzi scoffed. “I was not staring.”

Paige didn’t even turn around. “Right.”

Azzi stood up slowly, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I’ve never even thrown a punch.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You probably couldn’t have a better teacher then princess.”

Azzi hesitated, rolling her lips together. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Paige turned around holding wrap and gloves. “Scout’s honor.”

Azzi eyed her, skeptically. “I’m almost 100% sure you were never a scout.”

Paige shrugged. “Still counts.”

That earned a reluctant smile from Azzi as she walked over. “Alright. Let’s see what the hype’s about.”

Paige gestured for her to sit on the bench while she knelt in front of her. “Left hand first.”

Azzi held it out and watched silently as Paige began wrapping her hand. Her fingers were warm as she worked the wrap around Azzi’s hand and despite the teasing, Paige’s touch was careful, almost gentle, as she checked for tightness and comfort as she went.

“You nervous?” Paige said without looking up.

Azzi tilted her head. “Little bit.”

Paige glanced up with a faint grin. “Don’t be. I’ll go easy on you.”

Azzi just smiled at that as Paige continued to wrap Azzi’s hands. When she was done she slid the gloves on for her, tightening the straps just enough to be snug but comfortable. Once she was done, she sat back lifting her eyes.

“Good?”

Azzi nodded, holding her hands up awkwardly.

Paige smiled at her, rising to her feet. “Alright. Over here.”

She nodded toward one of the lighter bags, and Azzi followed her even though her movements were a bit hesitant. Paige motioned for her to square up when she got in front of the bag.

“Ight put your feet about shoulder-width apart,” she said, circling behind her. “Back foot slightly turned out. Yeah—like that.”

Azzi adjusted, and Paige stepped closer.

“Bring your hands up,” Paige said, tapping gently beneath Azzi’s elbows. “Higher. To protect your face.”

Azzi tried and her form was stiff. Paige chuckled under her breath before reaching out to nudge her arms into place.

“Here relax your shoulders,” she said, fingertips brushing over Azzi’s shoulder blades as she softened the tension there. “You’re not about to fight a bear. It’s just a bag, it won’t hit you back.”

Azzi huffed out a quiet laugh. “Feels like I’m bracing for war.”

Paige moved around to Azzi’s side, resting her palm lightly on her lower back. “You’re a hooper. You know how to move your body. Think of this as new muscle memory.”

Azzi gave her a sideways look. “Didn’t know you were gonna whisper sweet encouragements in my ear.”

Paige ignored Azzi trying to flirt but her mouth twitched. “You want to learn or not?”

Azzi smirked. “I’m listening, coach.”

Paige rolled her eyes but stayed close. “Throw a light jab with your dominant hand. Just test it out.”

Azzi did, and the glove landed against the bag with a gentle thud. Paige nodded. “Not bad. Do it again.”

Azzi reset her stance and this time it looked like she had a little more confidence as she threw another jab. The sound of her glove against the bag was harder, but Paige tilted her head slightly, trying to figure out the best advice to give her.

“You’re not bad,” Paige said, stepping in. “You’re throwing with just your arm though. You gotta turn into it. Use your hips, your shoulders. The power’s not going to be in the punch itself, it’s in the movement.”

Azzi gave her a confused look over her shoulder. “What does that even mean Paige?”

Paige sighed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “C’mere.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige was behind her with one of her hands resting gently on Azzi’s hip, the other on her upper arm.

“Alright,” Paige mumbled, her voice suddenly much closer to Azzi’s ear. “When you go to jab, turn this,” she said, nudging Azzi’s hip lightly, “just a little, like this.” She moved with her, guiding her body through the motion. Her chest brushed against Azzi’s back, and the space between them all but disappeared as Paige tried to show her what to do. Azzi blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the rhythm of Paige’s breath behind her, the weight of her hands, how still everything else felt.

Paige didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, her voice stayed even the entire time. “See? It’s not a huge movement. You just need enough rotation to transfer your weight. That’s where the power comes from.”

Azzi nodded, but it was distracted. “Uh-huh. Got it,” she mumbled, even though it clearly sounded a little dazed.

Paige paused just long enough to notice, her eyes moving towards Azzi’s face. “You good, or did I break you or something?”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good. It’s just the unsolicited back hugs. Kinda distracting.”

Paige grinned, stepping back slightly to give her space. “Focus.”

Azzi turned her head, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s over her shoulder. “I’m trying.”

There was a lingering look between them. Then Paige nodded toward the bag again.

“Show me.”

Azzi threw a few more punches with her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. The impact on the bag wasn’t perfect, but it was getting cleaner. Paige stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, watching her the entire time.

“Better,” she said, nodding. “But drop your shoulder a little—yeah, right there. Keep your chin tucked too. You’re not tryin’ to get hit if this was a real person remember?”

Azzi exhaled, adjusting, then threw a few more punches. She pulled back, glancing at Paige, searching for her expression.

Paige raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I don’t know. I might need to get you in the cage soon.”

Azzi laughed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Relax. I just figured out how to throw a punch.”

Paige walked closer to her. “Mmhm. I can’t tell, definitely got me feeling some typa way.”

Azzi blinked. “Excuse me?”

Before she could say more, Paige was behind her again, her hand gently skimming down Azzi’s arm under the guise of adjusting the position of her glove.

“I’m just saying,” Paige said, her mouth unironically warm by Azzi’s ear. “Feels like you doing some of this on purpose. Like you know somebody watching or somethin.”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat a little bit, from the words, how Paige’s fingers lingered and from the slight press of her body into Azzi's again.

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, her smirk returning once she gathered herself. “And are you?”

Paige’s lips quirked as she squinted her eyes at Azzi a little. “Always.” Then she stepped away again, nodding toward the bag like she hadn’t just said what she said. “Alright, again.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling as she squared up again. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige just shrugged. “Little bit.”

Azzi threw a few more punches and the sound of the gloves hitting the bag echoed through the gym, more rhythmic and steady this time around. Paige leaned against the wall that was nearby watching her closely.

“You’re still kinda stiff. Relax your shoulders.” She stepped forward, her hand grazing Azzi’s bicep before sliding down to adjust her elbow. “And bend just a little more in your knees.”

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to touch me?”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Azzi faltered again for half a second before she looked away, resetting her stance with a soft laugh. Paige smiled to herself, stepping back behind her.

“Okay, try it again.”

Azzi did and this time she got more hits in before Paige spoke up.

“You wanna remember to keep this hand a little higher, protect your face, remember?” Paige said.

“Feels like I should be paying you for this lesson.”

Paige chuckled. “Nah, first one’s free.”

Azzi shifted into the motion, punching the bag again, this time with a little more power. The sound made Paige nod in approval.

“There she is,” Paige murmured.

Azzi turned her head, catching Paige’s eye over her shoulder. “Guess it just depends on the coach.”

Paige smiled. “Good answer.”

They held eye contact before Paige stepped back, giving Azzi her space again. “Alright, again. Let’s see if the muscle memory sticks.”

They stayed in the gym for maybe thirty more minutes, the time passing without either of them really noticing. Paige kept her word. No laughing the entire time, not even when Azzi’s punch slipped a little and sent her stumbling forward into the bag. She caught herself, mumbling something under her breath, but Paige just walked over, nodding like it was no big deal.

“Keep your weight a little more balanced,” she said, crouching slightly to tap at Azzi’s back foot with her own. “You’re leaning too far forward.”

Azzi reset, adjusted, and went again, and with the slight adjustment her movements were cleaner. Paige watched her with a glint of quiet pride in her eyes, offering occasional comments. “Better…Don’t forget your guard…There you go. That one felt good, huh?”

Of course, it wasn’t all business. Azzi couldn’t help but toss a few comments in, especially when Paige came behind her again to adjust something miniscule. “You sure this is standard coaching?” Paige just hid her smile and said, “Nah this for special clients.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at Paige’s tone, but kept swinging.

By the time they wrapped up, both of them were a little flushed, sweaty, and grinning slightly for completely different reasons. Paige pulled off Azzi’s gloves for her and unwrapped her hands while Azzi stretched out her arms, exhaling hard.

“Okay, I get why you’re so into this now,” Azzi said, redoing her bun that had fallen a little too much. “Kinda makes you feel like a badass.”

Paige gave her a quiet laugh. “Told you.”

“You were right.”

“I usually am.”

Azzi nudged her. “Don’t push it.”

Paige smirked but didn’t say anything back. They lingered in silence while Paige finished unwrapping Azzi’s hands.

When she was done Azzi asked, “Hot tub now?”

Paige wiped the sweat off of her face with a towel. “Thought you’d never ask. Lemme hop in the shower first tho.”

Azzi took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe her muscles after the impromptu workout. By the time she made her way back into the living room, her hair was damp on the ends and pulled into another loose bun. She walked barefoot toward the kitchen, where she saw Paige at the counter with her head bowed slightly.

Azzi tilted her head. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Paige glanced up, the flicker of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Occasionally.”

Azzi hummed, leaning on the counter with her elbows, watching her break the buds into the paper. “What’s occasionally? Like, once a week? After every workout? Only when you drag someone across the country?”

Paige chuckled under her breath, her eyes going back to her hands. “More like...when I feel like I earned it. So…rare.”

Azzi smirked, but her eyes were trained on Paige’s lips and the way they parted slightly as she rolled. Her tongue flicked to wet the paper and Azzi caught herself staring. Everything Paige was doing was slow and perfectly in place. Too slow, maybe, because Azzi’s brain had gone a little quiet as she watched.

“You smoke?” Paige asked without looking up.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She was still watching, a little dazed as Paige’s mouth twisted and sealed the end.

“Azzi.”

The way Paige said her name snapped her out of it.

“Huh? Oh.” Azzi blinked quickly, standing up straighter. “What?”

Paige exhaled slowly, moving her eyes up to meet Azzi’s. “I said, do you smoke?”

Azzi cleared her throat, trying to act casual. “Not often, no. But...I mean, I could be convinced.”

Paige let out a laugh, moving her eyes back to the j. “We’ll see,” she said before flicking the lighter against the paper to finish sealing it. She held it up like a promise, then stood and nodded toward the patio doors. “Come on.”

Azzi grabbed the nearly-finished bottle of wine from the fridge and two more glasses from the cabinet, before she followed Paige outside. The sliding glass door opened with a soft creak, letting in the cool bite of a September night in Minnesota. It wasn’t frigid yet but the air was crisp enough to make the steam rising from the bubbling jacuzzi seem like a heavenly invitation.

Paige stepped in first, letting out a long exhale as the heat traced up her skin. She sank back against the edge, spread her arms to the side, and tilted her head just slightly to take it all in. Her hoodie and sweats were gone now, replaced by a black bikini top that contrasted against the paleness of her skin. Strands of her blonde hair curling slightly at the ends as they touched the water.

Azzi set the wine and glasses down with a clink on the edge of the jacuzzi, her fingers brushing her thigh as she stepped up onto the jacuzzi’s edge. She caught the way Paige’s blue eyes followed her unashamed. She didn’t look away once, even as Azzi sank into the water across from her, letting the heat settle over her skin.

For a moment, Paige watched her. Not saying much of anything. Once again like she was trying to figure Azzi out, or like she had already figured Azzi out and was trying to figure out what to do with the information.

Azzi raised her eyebrow after a while of Paige just staring and not saying anything, a soft smile on her lips as she said, “Good?”

Paige gave her a subtle nod, her jaw ticking slightly as the steam curled around her face. The warmth from the porch lights reflected in her blue eyes making them look even softer than usual, but her expression stayed unreadable.

Azzi tilted her head, still smiling out of shyness a little, “What’re you looking at?”

“You.”

Azzi let out a soft, “hm” at that, before she turned to pour the wine to distract herself from the light butterflies in her stomach. Her smile lingered as she reached for the bottle, but her eyes drifted back once, just quick enough to catch Paige lighting the blunt, her lips pulling from it effortlessly like she’d done it hundreds of times before. The faint glow from the cherry lit up the sharp lines of her face. She leaned back slightly, tipping her head to the stars as the smoke curled up from her lips.

It was honestly unfair how good she looked all the time. It was in the kind of way Azzi had no defense against. Like the brown haired girl wasn’t used to being this attracted to a person, let alone for such an extended period of time.

Paige took another pull then glanced back over, catching Azzi watching her again. “You just gonna stare or…?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, handing her a glass of wine before accepting the blunt Paige was oddering. She took it, her fingers brushing Paige’s just slightly in the process. “Getting me crossed on the first date?” she teased as she brought it to her lips.

Paige chuckled, her eyes already becoming a little low. “This isn’t the date.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, inhaling again before passing it back. “No?”

“Nah,” Paige said. “Promise I’mma take you on one tomorrow, though. Don’t trip.”

Azzi leaned back with her wine glass in hand. “Who said I’m tripping?”

Paige laughed again, taking a second pull before passing it back. “Just a phrase, princess.”

The whir of the jacuzzi filled the silence of the night air, bubbles breaking the surface in gentle bursts. A cool breeze swept in from the lake, but the warm water countered the chill, steam rising in tendrils into the air. The light blue glow of the jacuzzi lights gave everything a softer hue.

Paige leaned back, stretching her arms along the ledge behind her. Blue eyes were half-lidded as she watched the way Azzi brought the blunt to her lips.

“You roll good,” Azzi murmured as she exhaled before she passed it back.

Paige grinned. “What, you thought I was gonna be bad at this too?”

Azzi smiled, swirling her condensation wine glass. “Nah. I’m just surprised you’re not more of a control freak about how I’m pulling it.”

“I’m healing,” Paige said dryly, taking a hit. The smoke curled up around her face, catching in the blue light, softening her features.

Azzi watched her a second before reaching for the joint again to distract herself. “You ever bring anyone else here?”

Paige shook her head, eyes still on her. “Outside of my family? Nope. Just you.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, lifting the glass to her lips to hide the involuntary smile that was growing. “Hm. Should I feel special or concerned at how easy it was to get you to invite me here?”

“Both,” Paige said with a crooked smile as she took a long pull. “Balance, right?”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm. Smoke, sip, tease, repeat. Their conversations drifted from music to movies to random memories, the kind of stuff that didn’t need full context to laugh at. The night stretched on intimately as the warm water wrapped around them in contrast to the sky above that was wide open.

When the blunt burned down to the end, the last of its embers dimmed as Azzi flicked it into the nearby ashtray Paige had set on the edge. She let her head fall back as her eyes scanned the dark silhouettes of trees surrounding the cabin, the sky above streaked with stars she could never see in the city. The moment was peaceful in a way she wasn’t used to. There was nothing urgent tonight, nothing loud. Just a simple calmness in a Minnesota cabin with a blonde girl who somehow made her mind calm and chaotic at the same time.

Across from her, Paige looked like she belonged in this kind of silence. Her head was tilted back too, her eyes closed, arms stretched casually over the ledge behind her, her expression looked relaxed and her skin glistened with the mix of steam, wine and whatever haze lingered between them.

Azzi's gaze lingered on her. She took in the slope of her jaw, the flutter of her long lashes, the relaxed set of her usually clenched mouth. She wasn’t sure how long she stared before she finally said, quietly, “Paige.”

Without opening her eyes, Paige replied, “Hm?”

Azzi hesitated, exhaling softly through her nose. She didn’t want a half-aware hum. She wanted her attention more than usual. So she pushed herself up and moved slowly through the water until she was in front of her.

The movement caused ripples that lapped at Paige’s skin. Azzi stood in front of her, directly in front of one of the lights that cast a glow across her curves. “Look at me,” she said.

Paige’s eyes slowly opened. They were rimmed in red from the wine and the weed, as she processed how close Azzi was. Her gaze swept over Azzi’s long curls, some of them damp as they framing her face. She looked at the water glistening on her collarbone, the way the wet red bikini clung to her skin, the quiet confidence in the way she stood directly in front of her. This was probably the longest Paige had ever looked at Azzi and she shamelessly let her eyes travel across every portion of the girl in front of her.

Azzi tilted her head, catching the weight of the look in Paige’s eye. “Why you looking at me like that?”

Paige’s lips twitched. “You told me to.”

That made Azzi smile as she moved forward again, now standing between Paige’s legs that naturally opened to make room for her.

“You always do what you’re told?” Azzi asked, lowering her voice on purpose as her eyes met Paige’s.

Paige looked her up and down again, not bothering to hide the way her gaze lingered on her chest, on the silver piece of jewelry resting near her belly button. Her voice was quiet when she answered. “Depends who’s telling me.”

Azzi quirked her head to the side at this. “If it’s me?”

Paige didn’t look away from her. “Then maybe.”

Azzi let a beat pass between them before taking a small step closer, her thighs brushing Paige’s. “Only maybe?”

Paige’s eyes dropped to her mouth for a second, then back up. Her voice dropped too, a little raspier now as she said, “You gotta earn the ‘always’ from me.”

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, tilting her head as if she was considering that information. “That right?”

Paige nodded once. “Mhm.”

There was silence between them again. This version was thick, more intimate than their stretches of silence usually are. The water bubbled against them, steam curling upward making the moment seem...warmer. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath, their intoxication slowing everything down, making it heavier.

Azzi's hands moved beneath the water, her warm fingers gliding over Paige’s forearms before gently guiding her hands to her waist. Paige’s grip settled there naturally, her thumbs brushed over Azzi’s skin as she invited her closer with a soft pull.

Azzi let her legs drift, slotting herself against Paige until she was nearly straddling her in the water, knees brushing each side of Paige’s body. Her arms came up, looping around Paige’s neck, her wet fingertips tracing the damp edges of her hair. Neither of them still not offering any words.

The only sounds were the bubbling of the jacuzzi and the occasional noise of a grasshopper in the woods around the house.

Azzi leaned in slightly, keeping her eyes on Paige’s. All of her movements were slow, partly from the intoxication, partly from giving Paige time. Permission. An out if she didn’t want her in this way.

But Paige didn’t move away, contrarily Azzi noticed the way her gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there as she moved closer.

So Azzi closed the distance, her lips brushing Paige’s in a kiss that was slow, but not in a way that was hesitant. They just weren’t rushing, just the slowness of two people feeling out something new and inevitable. Paige’s hands held her waist while Azzi kissed her like she’d been waiting to, like she was learning the shape of her mouth, the rhythm of her breath.

The kiss deepened slightly, but stayed gentle, their lips moving in sync, intoxication softening the edges of everything around them, making them more attuned to the moment, to what they were feeling. Allowing the kiss to melt into something fuller, their mouths parting just enough for breaths to hitch and warmth to spill between them. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, when Azzi tugged on her lip softly, but it wasn’t possessive. It was careful in a way that caught Azzi off guard.

For someone who fought for a living, Paige’s touch was unexpectedly soft. Her hands held Azzi like she might break her, her thumbs tracing gentle circles along her hips beneath the water. Azzi had expected heat and intensity the first time she got Paige like this. And it was there but it was wrapped in a kind of reverence that made her stomach flutter. The feeling had her in heaven but sick to her stomach at the same time from the feelings drifting from deep in her chest to her brain.

Azzi felt like Paige was kissing her like she was learning her mouth by heart. Each tilt of her head, each brush of her tongue was gradual but still somehow reflected the want she felt. Azzi responded in kind, one hand moving to tangle in the damp strands of Paige’s hair, the other still looped loosely behind her neck as she pressed a little closer, the water gently rocking around them at the movement.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, kissing like they had all the time in the world.

Azzi’s lips parted from Paige’s just barely, her breath ghosting over pale wet skin as she trailed soft kisses down the line of Paige’s jaw and to the curve of her neck. Paige’s eyes fluttered closed again, tipping her head back as her arms stretched out along the edge of the jacuzzi, giving Azzi full access to her exposed skin—silent permission to keep going.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing the slope of her neck as she whispered, “You enjoying yourself?”

Paige let out a low hum. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi kept her lips moving slowly, before she pulled back just enough to look at her. “Good. But just so you know,” she added playfully, eyes flicking to Paige’s that had opened, “I don’t sleep with people on the first date. So don’t get any ideas.”

Paige couldn't help the smirk that formed, her eyes barely open as she looked up at Azzi. “That’s funny. I thought you wanted to sleep with me the first day we met.”

Azzi laughed against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing along her collarbone as she started to kiss her neck again. “That so?”

“Yup.”

Azzi pulled back again, just enough to glance at her with raised eyebrows, hands still loosely wrapped around Paige’s neck. “What gave you that impression?”

“Maybe all the eye-fucking you were doing from the bench before I was even introduced to you.”

Azzi scoffed, a disbelieving laugh coming out of her as she pressed her forehead to Paige’s shoulder thinking about it. “No I wasn’t.”

Paige tilted her head, smiling wider now. “Sure.”

Azzi smiled against her skin again, biting back her next laugh—because she kind of was now that she thought about it further.

Azzi lingered there for a beat, forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder, her breath warming her skin as she forced the warmth from the tips of her ears. Her fingers lightly traced over Paige’s collarbone, nails dragging just faintly against the skin. “You’re really full of yourself, huh?”

Paige’s hands slipped lower on Azzi’s waist beneath the water. “Just calling it how I saw it.”

Azzi tilted her head inwards, her mouth barely an inch from Paige’s jaw deciding to flip the script. “What are you seeing right now?” she whispered as her lips ghosted her skin but not quite kissing it.

Paige’s breath caught subtly, Azzi wouldn’t have noticed if Paige’s hands didn’t tighten slightly on her waist. “Feelin a lot more than I’m seeing.”

Azzi grinned, then kissed her again, deeper this time, a touch needier. There was still that slow intoxicated rhythm to it, but now it simmered with more tension. Azzi shifted in the water, straddling Paige properly, her body pressing in just enough to make them both feel it.

Paige’s hands slid up from her waist to the curve of her lower back, holding her in place. Her lips were soft. Patient in a way but leading them at the same time, coaxing Azzi to give more, as Azzi’s fingers threaded through the back of her damp hair, her hips instinctively rolling just once before she caught herself and pulled back slightly with a breathless laugh.

“Easy,” she whispered, resting her forehead against Paige’s again.

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige said, as she smiled a little, showing the amusement mixed in with her desire.

“Your hands are saying otherwise.”

Paige smirked, her fingers gliding back down to Azzi’s hips under the water. “Don’t matter. You didn’t sleep with people on the first date, remember.”

Azzi smiled at this. “This isn’t the date, remember? Makes things a little hazy”

Paige leaned in, brushing her lips along Azzi’s jaw, clearly distracted as she mumbleed. “Then what rules do I gotta follow?”

Azzi exhaled softly, her eyes fluttering shut as Paige’s lips hovered over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Shhh,” she whispered, one hand sliding into Paige’s hair as she guided her mouth lower, pressing Paige’s lips to the sensitive part of her neck.

Paige obliged, her lips finding Azzi’s pulse point as Azzi tilted her head to the side, giving her more to work with. She melted into it, her breath catching every so often as Paige’s mouth moved slowly, tracing Azzi’s pulse points with her tongue and teeth. When Paige bit down gently Azzi rocked further into her, a soft sound catching in her throat.

Each time Azzi rolled her hips closer, grinding against Paige she felt the perfect amount of pressure that was only heightened when Paige helped her press down further causing the water to lap around them.

They repeated this for nearly ten minutes. Azzi’s body straddled Paige’s, her fingers drawing patterns over her shoulders as she pushed herself into the blonde. Paige’s hands stayed low on Azzi’s back, then drifted lower when she sensed Azzi getting a little needier, her fingers playing idly with the string of her red bikini bottoms beneath the water. The way she toyed with the string was intentional. She was teasing Azzi but staying patient, waiting for the girl on her lap to make whatever decision she wanted.

Azzi felt the tension coiling in her stomach, breaking the kiss and hovering her lips near Paige’s ear. She was about to tell her breathily to take it off but then Paige’s phone buzzed against the ledge behind them.

Azzi stilled but Paige didn’t even lift her head from Azzi’s neck. “Ignore it.”

Azzi easily gave in, leaning back in to kiss her again, her mouth finding Paige’s. Paige slipped one hand up to cradle the back of Azzi’s neck and pulled her closer.

But then the phone rang again and for some reason in this moment it seemed louder…more insistent than usual.

Azzi laughed against Paige’s lips, pulling back to look at her as Paige chased her a little. “You sure I’m the one who was thirsty?” she teased.

Paige tilted her head back, closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Unreal.”

Azzi smiled softly as she slid her hands down Paige’s chest and gave one last lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before whispering, “Good night, Paige.”

Paige opened her eyes just as Azzi stepped out of the jacuzzi, steam curling around her silhouette in the cool air. Paige watched her go with her lips parted.

And the fucking phone was still ringing.

Paige let out a long sigh as she reluctantly snatched it off the ledge and swiped to answer when she saw the name Cam glowing across the screen. “What.”

“Hi to you too, grumpy.”

Paige leaned her head back again, the steam from the jacuzzi curling around her face as she exhaled, clearly annoyed. “What, Cam?”

“I was just checking on you. I hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”

Paige’s tone was dry. “I’m alive.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then Cam asked, “What are you doing?”

Paige groaned at the pointless conversation, “You cockblocked me.”

There was a beat of silence before Cam burst into laughter. “What?!”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin. “Do you need something Cameron?”

Cam hummed dramatically. “I don’t know…maybe just to hear my annoying sister’s voice.”

That pulled a soft chuckle out of Paige as she ran a hand through her damp hair and shifted her weight in the water. “Hi, Cam.”

She could hear the grin on Cam’s face through the phone as she said, “There we go.”

There was a brief pause before Cam’s tone turned curious. “So...who ya with?”

Paige snorted. “Mind your business.”

Cam gasped. “I’m almost 100% sure it’s Azzi so you might as well tell me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She texted the group chat and told us all to leave her alone unless somebody died. That was like...six hours ago.”

Paige couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as she leaned her head back against the ledge again. “Hm.”

The two of them talked a bit more, Cam giving her updates on Ben and her mom’s latest antics, Paige tossed in a few dry comments here and there to entertain Cam.

Mid-conversation, Paige’s eyes drifted up toward the second floor of the cabin and she saw Azzi moving past the window before pausing when she saw Paige looking. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder as she looked down at Paige.

Paige smirked as she tilted her head, silently inviting Azzi back downstairs with a playful look in her eyes.

Azzi arched an eyebrow.

Paige gave her best version of a pout, mouthing please.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners before she exaggeratedly mouthed, no and walked away.

Paige sighed, but the smirk never left her face as Cam kept talking in her ear.

…

Much later that night, Azzi was in bed, restlessly kicking at the sheets. The air in the room she picked felt too warm and no matter how many times she flipped her pillow or changed positions, she couldn’t get comfortable. Her body felt tense…unsettled in a way she couldn’t just ignore to fall asleep. She was uncomfortable and needy.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the covers off and sat up. The silence of the large cabin settled around her and it was broken by the creak of floorboards as she walked barefoot down the stairs. The dim lighting from the moon spilled in through the large windows lighting up the open space just enough for her to see. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge.

She stood there a moment, sipping slowly, trying to calm herself down. Her eyes drifted to the sky outside. It was clear and scattered with more stars than she could count. She ran a hand up her neck, exhaling through her nose before pulling her shirt over her head, revealing a thin tank top that clung to her skin. Her small pajama shorts rode high on her thighs, and she tugged at the waistband out of habit as she redid her messy bun, a few stubborn curls falling loose around her face.

For a few minutes, she tried to focus on the quietness, on her breathing, on the cool glass against her lips but it didn’t work. Eventually, she gave up.

Setting her glass down on the counter with a soft clink, she turned and moved through the hall. Her knuckles hovered over Paige’s door for just a second before she knocked.

Paige heard the knock and stirred, blinking slowly as she registered the sound. She groaned softly, pushing the covers off and rubbing at her face before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body moved on autopilot as she moved across the room and opened the door still half-asleep.

Azzi stood there, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from down the hall. Paige blinked, her sleepy eyes scanning down the thin tank top clinging to Azzi’s body and the pajama shorts that left little to the imagination.

Paige blinked again, slower this time. “…Wassup? You good?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

Azzi shifted her weight, her lips pressing together for a second. “I’m hot,” she said simply, then added, “and I can’t sleep.”

Paige raised her eyebrows, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she tilted her head at Azzi’s choice of words. But she didn’t say anything, just stepped aside, opening the door further. “Come in.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment at the threshold as Paige moved back into the room. The cool air from Paige’s room brushing over her skin and making her exhale softly. It was a relief from the stuffy heat of her own room so she stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Paige was already crawling back in bed, flopping onto her stomach with a tired groan as she buried half her face back into a pillow. The sheet dipped slightly as her weight settled, the muscles in her back flexing faintly as she got adjusted.

Azzi walked over and carefully slid under the covers next to her, lying on her side as she looked at Paige.

“You always sleep like that?” she asked quietly.

Paige hummed. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi smiled a little. “Looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s not,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

They were quiet for a moment before Azzi spoke again. “You okay with me being in here?”

Paige’s eyes stayed closed, but she shifted, turning her head toward Azzi. “Yeah.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, her body starting to relax as melted into the bed. “It’s freezing in here,” she added playfully.

“Better than melting,” Paige mumbled. After a pause, she added, “C’mere then.”

Azzi didn’t respond; she just smiled to herself before drifting closer under the covers and turning the other way. Paige shifted to her side and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her in. Azzi immediately felt the heat from Paige’s skin and it was comforting; seeping into Azzi’s own skin and soothing the restlessness she'd been fighting all night.

Azzi whispered, “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

For a few moments, it was quiet. Paige’s breath was steady against the back of Azzi’s neck as she started to easily slip back into sleep.

But Azzi’s mind hadn’t settled. She spoke again, almost like a thought of hers slipped out without permission. “You sleep like this often? Holding people?”

Paige hummed. “Nope.”

Azzi smiled a little, her fingers brushing Paige’s forearm. “So, what I’m special?”

Paige gave a lazy, “Yup.”

Azzi kept going. “You’re warm...like stupid warm. I feel like I’m melting now…in a good way though”

“You’re welcome.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, but when she opened her mouth again, Paige interrupted with a tired, “Azzi…”

Azzi paused, then tried to turn a little to face her. “Hm?”

Paige’s arms tightened around her, pulling her back into place as she mumbled against Azzi’s shoulder, “Go to sleep for me.”

Azzi was about to protest, but Paige somehow managed to pull her closer, her head gently resting on top of Azzi’s. One of her hands slipped under Azzi’s tanktop and her fingers drew patterns on her waist.

Azzi let out a quiet breath, her protest completely forgotten as she whispered, “Okay.” Her eyes finally fluttering closed.

[axetivev]

— Summary: Ratio was the type of man who was too busy with work, you, his husband texted him without an answer, your solution? Go to the campus where he works! After a light batter, Ratio said something that he shouldn't say, insults making you mad at him. What should be his best way to apologize?

— Warnings/Tags: Professor!Ratio, Fashion Designer!Reader, Married!Ratio & Reader, Domestic AU, Fluff & Smut, Slight Angst, Face sitting, Anal Sex, Ridding.

— Words: 1.7k

— A/N: i think this had more smut then fluff,, and rushed, im currently gonna be extra busy,, and it was annoying for me to see that I haven't done a request. but regardless. Thank you for �� anon who requested this fic ! I hope you and many others enjoyed this as much I enjoy writing this !

— Pairing: Dr Ratio x Male!Reader

Veritas ♥️

M/N > Still on work?

Delivered 4:51 P.M

M/N > Ratio?

Delivered 4:54 P.M

There it goes, you knew your husband, Ratio had his phone in silence.

It isn’t a bad thing really, working with many high school graduates who’s answer when asked about why they go to university was always a false copy paste or just a long pause. Every night after work, he often find himself laying his head on your lap, inside of your studio filled by mannequins as he rumbling about how some students were idiots.

You’d just chuckled to his angry mumbles, the way your eyes met with his as he paused his rambles. He’d just stop. Admiring you like a piece of art, his reddish-pink eyes looking at you so lovingly—making him ended up just rolled his body to face the floor and sleep.

You were sitting inside of your studio, 10 minutes passed, soon. The clock shows 5:32 P.M. Spend by you spamming Ratio in worry; what if something bad happened to him? But you shook it off—an idea popped inside your head. Eyes lit up as you stood up from your chair, as some design of your latest commissions, but for now it doesn’t matter. Taking the keys to your car. You jumped to your destination; Campus where Ratio teaches!

The ride was nothing but normal. You even had to time to stop by a bakery to buy some treats, however. When you took one step to the campus, not even in—a lot of students were looking at you like you were a modal. You thought your popularity was rather average, but you swore 89% of the people knew you. Who wouldn’t with those eye catching beautiful designs? Their eyes were widen open, jaw dropped, even some scrambled over their bag, trying to look for something. But you simply shrugged while you gave them a smile.

You swore some kids were dropping from see you as you entered the last class Ratio was in after reading his schedule. There he was, him and two other students in their chair. Sweating as they write something on their paper like their life dependent on it, Ratio? He was sitting comfortably in his desk as his eyes were scanning those students, before his gaze met with yours.

“You haven’t read my messages, Mr. Veritas,” you smiled sweetly to your husband, your hand slowly pushed a box filled by treats you bought. “Curious, are you going home after this?”

Ratio paused for a second. He stayed silent just to stare at you, his eyes fell to your finger. That ring was perfectly places on your digit like a match made in heaven, similar to his, Ratio grunts quietly before he fixed his glasses and continue to look at his two fellow students who jumped as his gaze darkened at them. You just continue to smile, but you felt that twitch inside your guts. How dare he didn’t answer his own husband?

“Ratio… I believe after this you’ll get home soon, yes?” You repeat trying to keep your calm demeanor, Ratio himself just grunted once more. Leaving you on edge, a sigh of frustration escaped your lips. Before you pulled out an ultimatum. “How about this; work or me?”

A smug look was practically plastered on your face, both students looked at each other. They seriously thought something wholesome would happened—but really, Ratio slowly pulled his glasses, putting them to his desk next to some books, the audacity for him to not even looked up to you—“M/N, you know I’m busy currently. These two students are failing so miserably in my class,” Ratio said, his reddish-pink eye looked at your face a while small smirk formed on his lips. He added, his voice low. “work it is.”

Silence.

…This happened more then once really. But the fact two students were looking with a concern expression, you still plastered a smile. That one smile Ratio knew he was fucked, he even paused for a moment. Did he actually…? Ratio actually looked at you with somewhat concern, but you didn’t say anything but storm off from the class. Leaving Ratio who was standing up and tried to call for you, but too late.

“Did Professor…?”

“That’s… wow.”

At home, you were in your studio, yet again. Letting out frustration in the form of designs, your eyes landed on the same commission that had fell earlier. You picked it up as you examinate something people might call masterpiece, but really. It was stressful in your mind when that same client declined the idea and asked for another design. You were about to stood up, but you felt a arm around your waist. Of course, non-other then Ratio.

“M/N…” Ratio spoke quietly, his warm breath reached your ears making you shivered as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his grip tightened. “…Sorry, please.”

You froze for a second, confused—should you be annoyed or accepted his apology? But before you could form a sentence, your hand was slowly intertwine with his, while Ratio slowly pushed you to your desk, his second hand, originally on your waist moved to your chin. Gently, he pulled you to a kiss which went heated fast.

His tongue dancing with yours, sucking your breath as your intertwined fingers tightened. Only the kiss was broken by you forcing to pulled the he kiss away, but Ratio still wanted more. He let you catch some breath before he pulled you to another heated kiss. Almost desperate. Ratio muttered against your lips. “M/N, please… I’m sorry.”

Your lips parted yet again, a thin shine thread of saliva connecting your lips against his. Your lips was swollen, a tent clearly visible on your trousers. Your face was flushed. Embarrassed by a kiss making you hard.

“Alright alright…” You spoke, voice somewhat raspy, a smile formed on Ratio. He slowly pulled you to a kiss—more tender, even hesitated. “Apology accepted.”

You can’t believe you actually still fall for Ratio’s tricks to apologize. You remembered once his way of apologizing was to sit you down and handle it like a man that he was, now. His way was fucking you dumb to forget what even happened.

You and Ratio were on your shared bed, your clothes were discharged to the floor, you now found yourself sitting on Ratio’s face, how… never mind. His idea anyway, your hands were on the sheets below Ratio who eagerly licking your hole shameless as his hands were on your hip. Preventing them to be closed, you felt his tongue then slowly entered your at first, tight rim.

His tongue—Ratio’s slimy tongue inside of you, at first, he was kind enough to be gentle. But he didn’t hesitate to immediately plunged his tongue inside of you, making you jolted—throwing your head back as Ratio’s grip on your hip tightened, you swore they would marked by his tight his grip was. His tongue opened you up for a solid two minutes as your cock already sprouting precums, he slowly pulled his tongue, making you flinched over nothing but leaving your hole mixed with his saliva. Disappointment was clear in your face.

“Are you sure you could handle it?” Ratio raised and eye bro, you nod. “Its been a while since we have intimacy, don’t you think?”

A small—hesitated smile formed on your lips. “It is…”

Ratio studied your lips, your eyes, he still remembered that day where you had Ratio had sex did the first time, clearly, he remembered who took his virginity. He slowly adjusted himself, sitting up as his head rested on the headrest as for his hands moved you to his lap, your cock and his touching. A light rub, Ratio’s hand slowly lifted you up, as your asshole kissed with his tip. A low groan runs from your lips.

“Tight…” Ratio muttered to himself before he slams you to his cock, you felt him balls deep inside of you, you twitched. “You’re still as tight as I remembered.”

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. “Veritas.”

“Yes, Mr. Veritas?” Ratio smugly replied, but before you could continue. Ratio thrust his hips upwards. You yelped—soon, moans filled the room.

Even after what felt months passed (actually, only two months) without intimacy, you still felt in so much pleasure by how good Ratio’s cook fills like, the way it filled you up, the way you’d just suck it like a candy, and the most important thing… His cock hitting your prostate repeatedly, making your eyes rolled go the back to your head. You nearly lost control over your body by how fast Ratio’s pace was—pistoling his cock into you as loud moans kept spilling from your lips, you didn’t even realized you already cum, reaching your climax.

Ratio, soon felt his limit is getting closer, he tried to pulled you away, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his chest, panting with watery eyes. “No, inside…” He groaned by your words, Ratio just go faster. Before then, you felt warmth.

Maybe for those two months, his balls develop so much sperm that some of them leaked out, you felt your body tired even barely doing much, just the first round. You knew Ratio could go all night, but, maybe. Your stamina is getting rather lower, you flopped to his chest as his hand brushed over your hair, damped by sweat. “Tired?”

“Yeah…” You replied with a raspy voice. Ratio nodded, your eyes were hazy, you closed your eyes for a moment. Just—a—moment. Then, you felt something warm surrounded by you, water.

Even in your tired state, you still able to collect some power to shifted, making yourself feel comfortable. You felt a squeezed on your hand, you slowly raised your right hand, to find Ratio’s intertwined with yours. You slowly rubbed your eyes, in front of you, of course. A faucet intact to the bathtub, roses, rubber ducks, and foam surrounding you, you look up, founding Ratio reading his book… You smiled, kissing his jaw. He looked down, a smile formed.

“Romantic…” You smugly tease, Ratio rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing.” He muttered.

You fake a pout, your hands moved to his cheek to gently pinched the skin. “Ratio…”

“What now…” “I love you.”

Ratio stared at you for a moment, that smug look on your face, for him, it was both annoying and lovely. His day wouldn’t be complete without seeing that smug expression, a sigh escaped his lips, he shook his head amusingly. Ratio puts down his book, his hand moved to your chin as he slowly pressed his lips against yours, tender and filled by love.

“I love you too, Veritas M/N.”

[quaranmine]

How long does that potion last?

Hi! Here's a guide I wrote for how long Minecraft potions last in approximation with real time. This is for Java edition only, and hopefully will be useful in stuff like fanfiction.

For reference, a full Minecraft day is 20 minutes in-game. That's 10 minutes of daytime, 3 minutes of dawn/dusk, and 7 minutes of night. I will be equating 10 minutes of daytime = 12 hours of a real-life day. I'm calculating this via comparing percentages, so let me know if I have messed up the math. Potion times are from the wiki and instant potions such as healing or harming are left out for obvious reasons.

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

20-22 second potions: Potion of Slowness IV; Potion of the Turtle Master I and II; Potion of Poison II; Potion of Regeneration II

Lasts approximately 0.396 hours real-time, or 23 minutes and 46 seconds (for 20 seconds potion length)

40-45 second potions: Potion of Poison; Potion of the Turtle Master +; Potion of Regeneration

Lasts approximately 0.9 hours real-time, or 54 minutes (for 45 seconds potion length)

1.5 minute potions: Potion of Regeneration +; Potion of Swiftness II; Potion of Strength II; Potion of Leaping II; Potion of Slow Falling; Potion of Poison +; Potion of Weakness; Potion of Slowness

Lasts 1.8 hours real-time, or 1 hour and 48 minutes

3 minute potions: Potion of Swiftness; Potion of Fire Resistance; Potion of Night Vision; Potion of Strength; Potion of Leaping; Potion of Water Breathing; Potion of Invisibility

Lasts 3.6 hours real-time, or 3 hours and 36 minutes.

4 minute potions: Potion of Slow Falling +; Potion of Weakness +; Potion of Slowness +

Lasts 4.8 hours real-time, or 4 hours and 48 minutes.

5 minute potions: Potion of Luck

Lasts 6 hours real-time.

8 minute potions: Potion of Swiftness +; Potion of Fire Resistance +; Potion of Night Vision +; Potion of Strength +; Potion of Leaping +; Potion of Water Breathing +; Potion of Invisibility +

Lasts 9.6 hours real-time, or 9 hours and 36 minutes.

Tipped arrows, according to the wiki, last 1/8th the time of their corresponding potion if applicable. Since that might vary, I'm not going to calculate them all here.

Go forth and have fun writing! I wrote this post nearly 2 years ago, drafted it, and forgot about it. I hope it can be of some use for writers.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #54 - Too Jealous]

“When you are way too jealous because of another woman.”

Genre: married life!AU, slight Angst, Smut

Warnings: jealousy, husband stealing women trying to get with Kook, while he is the most loyal puppy husband ever, insecurities, a fight because of her jealousy, but they make up <3, please he is so cute i couldn't be mad at him, subbiest!Jungkook, Domme!Reader, he wears bondage gear, and used eyeliner to write her name on his body, chastity cage, marking through hickeys & biting, subby boy tears, omfg he is such a cutie crybaby <3, nipple play & sucking, wearing of a buttplug, have i mentioned that he cries a lot? <3, very passionate sex in cowgirl position, where he is tied to the bed and whines and cries and is subbyyyy, he breaks the bed but stays put cause he is a good boy, choking, dirty talk, possessive talk, creampie, use of a vibrator, one quick face sitting for her please, he loves eating her out <3, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), forced orgasm through overstimulation with the vibrator, where she makes him cum so hard that he squirts <3, gentle aftercare, they're deeply in love and this is actually softer than the warnings may make it seem, bruh i need to recover from this

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: listen. it would be unrealistic to create ogc!koo and not have women want him left and right. of course our queen OC feels threatened sometimes (she doesn't have to, he is her loyal puppy fr) and i NEEDED to write this like i fucking NEEDED this on my blog i just *sigh* i love subby crybaby!koo so much :( ALSO! i decided to include anonie's dream from some time ago heheh 🧡

Jungkook is without a doubt the most attractive, most handsome, sexiest and hottest man ever. This is not an exaggeration but the truth. He is drop-dead, insanely gorgeous. He has the perfect body and knows what clothes to wear to really show it off. His tattoos are so well done and perfectly fit his body. His face is quite frankly to die for, his hair is always perfect and to make it even worse, he always smells so good. Because he is Jungkook, it also means that the perfection doesn’t stop at his looks. He is perfect inside as well. His heart is kind and gentle, he cares, he is funny, he is witty and he actually respects women. He is also way too talented and overall a good person. And he never ever brags about being basically perfect (which he is) because he is humble above all.

In short, Jeon Jungkook is the most attractive, perfect man ever. And because he is, it means that you, as his wife, have way too much competition. Not that Jungkook actually sees any of this competition because his love-drunk puppy eyes have solely been fixed on you for years and they plan on staying this way. Yes, he is bloody loyal too. What a perfect fucking man he is. He is loyal and therefore blind to the competition, but you are aware of the competition. You can distinguish between a naturally friendly woman and a woman who is only that way because she wants to get with him. And Jungkook gets a lot of these women as his customers. You can’t blame them for swooning over him – whenever he tattoos you, you can’t stop staring either – but there are the kinds of women who still want to try to seduce him even after finding out that he is married. And because Jungkook doesn’t actually care for their attention, he is also not really aware that they keep coming back for more tattoos just so they could be touched by him or stare at him. Most of these women finally give up when they actually see you, but there is this one specific woman who seems hellbent on stealing Jungkook from you and she is currently at his studio again.

“___?” 

You turn your head to the left at the sound of your employee’s voice.

“Yes, Katy?” 

“Are you alright? You’ve been staring at Jungkook’s studio for fifteen minutes now.”

“I have?”

Katy nods her head, “did you guys have a fight?”

“No, but she is back.”

“Ooooh”, Katy realises, “Ariana?”

“Yeah…her”, you grumble, tensing your jaw.

“Again? Didn’t he literally talk about your wedding last time?”

“He did.”

“And didn’t he say that she had a boyfriend too?”

“He did.” You squint your eyes. “Stupid bitch, I bet she is currently looking at his tits and arms. God.” You stomp your foot like a stubborn child. “Why does he have to have such massive tits and arms?” you whine to which Katy laughs.

“You’re literally so jealous, it’s insane.”

“Yeah I am. He is so gorgeous and some women just don’t get that he is mine.” 

Katy pats your shoulder in soothing. 

“There, there. I bet he is not even giving her a first thought or a second or a third.”

“I hope he isn’t. Otherwise, divorce.”

Katy belts a laugh.

“You’re being so dramatic. Jungkook would already start crying if he so much as thought about the hypothetical of cheating on you.”

“I guess.” You send the studio one last glare then sadly have to leave your brooding position to tend to some customer with Katy. 

A little over an hour passes like this, then the restaurant calms down again and you glare. 

Katy, who notices, pats your shoulder again.

“Still not over it?”

“She hasn’t left yet.”

“Maybe it’s a bigger tattoo?”

“She never gets big tattoos because it means that she can come back as often as possible.”

“Wow okay, very scheming indeed.”

“Yes, very. I bet she is one of those women who get off on stealing taken men. You know what? I’m going over there.”

“For what reason?”

“I don’t know. Bringing coffee”, you say and grab one of the coffee jugs and two mugs. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck, queen”, Katy calls after you, smiling fondly. It’s kind of cute how jealous you can be when there is truly nothing to worry about.

You see them from outside. They are in the front of the shop, hugging. Jungkook doesn’t touch her, keeping at least five inches of distance between his arms and her body while she is slung around him with her face in his neck as if she wanted to literally crawl into him. Judging by his widened eyes, he was not expecting this hug.

It you didn’t carry a jug full of hot coffee, you would have literally kicked the door in.

But instead you open it with a happy “yuhu” on your lips, following it up with a “I bring coffee, my darling.” 

“Oh, sweetie”, Jungkook says, stepping back to escape the hug.

The wannabe home wrecker lets go of Your husband and takes a step back, studying you from head to toe judgingly. You place the coffee pot on the counter and hug Jungkook. He hugs you back instantly, rubbing the small of your back and kissing the side of your neck gently.

“Hey.”

“Hey there, my hubby”, you say and place multiple kisses on his neck and jawline. Then you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face down into a deep, passionate kiss. The kind of kiss which lasts way too long and is way too intimate. You end the entire show with a squeeze of his butt and a goofy grin.

“I missed you today, my hubby bubby sweetie. I kept thinking about the amazing head you gave me this morning and how you kept telling me that you’ll always be mine.”

Jungkook is gawking at you with his mouth wide open. What you said wasn’t a lie because he actually did do that, but you are normally not exposing stuff like this to the public. Or kissing him like this as a matter of fact.

You cuddle into him, hugging his arm and shifting your eyes to the glaring woman in front of you.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t even see you there. Who are you?” You look at Jungkook. “Shoot, did I just expose us to one of your customers, darling? I’m sorry.”

“It’s uh…” Jungkook’s cheeks are bright red. “Forgive me Miss Grand, this is my wife- eek.” He squeaks and tenses up when you grab his butt unapologetically. “Sorry uhm, thanks for uhm coming for the tattoo today. Uhm, don’t forget to do proper aftercare on it and to use the cream I recommended you.”

The home wrecker is flabbergasted for a moment, but then catches herself quickly. She actually tries to shoot her shot in front of you. She steps closer with the plan of hugging him again. 

You are in front of him instantly, staring her down like a lioness one second away from ripping apart her prey.

“You think I’m being funny?” You hiss. “I’ve been friendly with you up until now. Understood?”

Jungkook stays quiet for his own sake, but holds your hand and gawks at you with widened eyes. This is the first time he sees you like this. 

The home wrecker finally gets the message and scrunches her nose.

“I’ll see you soon again, Jungkookie”, she coos and leaves with a flick of her hair. 

The door slams closed. You stay glaring for a few more seconds then turn around. Jungkook blinks his eyes at you in confusion.

“You can’t stop thinking about the head I gave you this morning? Really?” he asks, cocking his brow up in question.

“Whatever. I was trying to say the most possessive thing ever”, you grumble, making your way to the coffee pot.

“Possessive?” Jungkook follows you with his eyes. He suddenly gasps. “Wait! Are you jealous?”

“What? No? I was trying to send a message.”

“Send a message about what?”

“That you’re married.”

“I think she knows. I talk about you constantly.”

You can’t help but smile. He is actually so sweet.

“I don’t think she cared. Now she actually knows that I exist and that I’ll fight. She’ll think twice about hitting on you again.”

“Aw baby, you are jealous.”

“Yes I am. You don’t get it. You’re so perfect and handsome and you sometimes don’t see how other women look at you, but I do. I see all of it”, you hiss at him, sending him such a deathly glare that Jungkook is actually taken aback for a moment.

“No baby, don’t even worry about them. I don’t care about how they look at me, I just wanna look at you”, he says, touching your hips. He flutters his lashes at you, smiling extremely cutely. 

“Then refuse service to Miss Grand.”

“What?”

“You heard me. She is trying to steal you from me.”

Jungkook scoffs, “let her try, I don’t care about her.”

“No, you don’t get it, I-”

A customer interrupts you and him. 

“Oh? Sorry for the disturbance, I didn’t know that you had another customer”, he says, looking sorry.

Jungkook studies your face with guilty eyes for one more second then sadly has to look away. He forces a customer service smile to his face.

“Don’t worry Duke, you’re on time. That’s my wonderful wife ___, she is running the restaurant over there and brought us coffee for our session”, he says, placing his arms over your shoulder to kiss your temple. But you only let him do so halfway then shake yourself free.

“Sorry, works calling again. Hungry people don’t like to wait”, you say. “Good luck with the tattoo.”

You leave the studio and with it a conversation which was definitely not over yet. Jungkook looks after you with sad, guilty eyes until you disappear in the restaurant.

Jungkook leaves the studio at seven like he always does. One more hour and he will drive home with you. He crosses the street and enters the restaurant like he always does. He promised you to stay with you during closing hour to keep you safe from creeps who don’t want to leave. And Jungkook always keeps his promises to you. Especially his marriage promises. He looks for you with a nervously racing heart, but can only find Katy and Joe.

“Are you looking for ___?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, I’m picking her up to drive home together”, he answers him. 

“Damn sorry man, you missed her by about ten minutes.”

“She already went home?”

Joe nods his head.

“Did she say why?”

“Just that she was feeling a little tired tonight.”

Katy joins Joe’s side, staying way too close. You regularly give Jungkook updates about these two. They try to be sneaky about it, but you already figured out that they are secretly dating. Jungkook is always very excited when you give him updates about them during late night cuddles in bed. He feels so sad at the thought right now because he knows that he managed to hurt you today and now there won’t be any updates or cuddles.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know?” Katy says.

Jungkook nods his head, “I hope. I, uhm, Imma go now. Check up on her, you know?”

“Yes, do that.”

“Take care, you two.”

“You too.”

Jungkook drives home with a deep pit of guilt in his stomach. He doesn’t drive straight home, but takes a little detour to a florist to get a huge bouquet of flowers. 

He cradles it like a baby for the rest of the drive home. 

Thankfully, your bike is in the garage and your gear is stored in the closet. Jungkook makes sure that the garage door is closed and then hurries inside. 

Like every night, Bam greets him happily, but Jungkook can only give him attention half-heartedly. He needs to talk to you. 

“Babygirl, I’m home!” 

You don’t answer him. Jungkook discards his keys and swerves past a confused Bam. He checks the kitchen and the living room, both of which are empty. 

“Sweetie, your hubby is back!”

No answer.

He checks the bathroom and the bedroom, then his room. Lastly, he checks your room. 

Bingo.  

You are on your mattress with the television running. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere”, he says, hurrying to you. 

He falls to his knees and presents the flowers.

“I’m sorry for today”, he says, bowing his head. 

You glance at him, then the flowers. He got your favourites in your favourite colour and arranged in a heart. You sigh in defeat and turn off the television.

Jungkook lifts his head at the sound, meeting your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m stupid and dumb and a buffoon”, he says apologetically.

You scoff, stifling a smile. He notices it and closes in on you instantly. He tries to kiss your cheek, but you move back.

He sits back on his feet, pouting at you.

“I’m really sorry”, he says.

“I know, I guess you don’t have to be. It’s not like you’re actually entertaining her antics.”

He shakes his head vigorously.

“Never ever. I couldn’t care less about her, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell her to look for another tattoo artist.”

“No, it’s okay. I was unreasonable.”

“Well, do you want me to or are you just saying so?”

You hesitate but then shake your head, “it’s okay.” 

Jungkook exhales in defeat. He scoots closer, holding your hand.

“___ baby, I love you and I only want you.”

“I know, thank you for the reassurance and the, uhm, flowers. They’re so cute.”

“Right? I told the florist to make a heart as big as my love for you, but she ran out of flowers before she could match its size.”

He makes you smile. Jungkook hooks onto it, finally leaning in to smooch your cheek. You still pull away however.

“I’m sorry. I need to be alone right now. Is that okay for you?”

“I mean, I’ll definitely feel really guilty the entire time, but I guess if you really need it”, Jungkook says with insecurity in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll make dinner in the meantime, yeah?”

“I brought stuff from the restaurant. I already ate, sorry.”

“Oh, uhm, okay.” Jungkook hesitates, pulling back in insecurity. “Do you still love me?” he asks with sad puppy eyes 

“I still love you, I promise.”

“I love you too. So much, as big as the flower heart. Even bigger.”

You accept the flowers and give him a smile.

“Thank you, Kook.”

He lingers, waiting – hoping – for you to make a move. You linger, waiting for your feelings to make sense to you. You don’t know if you are angry at him. He wouldn’t deserve it because he did nothing wrong and yet it feels as everything is his fault. If he wasn’t that perfect, that handsome and sweet, other women wouldn’t want to rip him from you all the time. Why does he have to be the way he is? You glare at him. Jungkook looks away instantly, shrinking in obvious helplessness.

“Okay then, I’ll be going now.” He says and looks at you hopefully. Maybe you want to say something now. But you only nod your head.

He stands up with a heavy heart, “you’re gonna miss out on couch snuggles, just saying”, he tries, but doesn’t get far. 

He ends up alone for the rest of the evening while you lock yourself away in your room. 

Jungkook tries to distract himself with a show and by taking Bam on a beach walk, but his mind keeps racing with memories of today. If only he did and or said the right thing. It feels like he fucked up everything. You have never been like this before, you never threatened other women or refused his apologies. It feels like the end and it makes Jungkook feel like shit.

When he comes back from his walk with Bam, your door is still closed. Nothing changed. Is this really it for you and him?

Jungkook runs away to the shed in hopes of finding distraction in a workout. Otherwise he would cry on the couch. He is in the middle of punching the punching bag as if it owed him money when he gets is a text message from you. He throws the gloves away and stops the music. He opens them instantly, eventhough he normally always forgets to check his messages. His heart is pounding in his chest to the point he has to sit down from dizziness.

-          Wifey ♡: Today was too much. She called you Jungkookie and hugged you…

-          Jungkook: I know! 😡 So weird!!! 🤢 it happened really fast, I didn’t wanna hug her and she never called me this way before. It’s so icky 🤢

-          Wifey ♡: She’s a bitch… I notice how women look at you and it makes me feel insecure. You’re so attractive and everything about you is so female gaze coded and so many of your customers are trying to take what’s not theirs.

-          Jungkook: I’m so sorry that you feel this way…What do you need right now to feel better again?

-          Wifey ♡: I don’t know. Maybe more effort from you? I’m so unfair to you, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t do anything wrong, but I still can’t be close to you right now. I’m sorry, I don’t know either why that is…

-          Jungkook: I understand, sweetie. Don’t apologise. I’ll give you your space. My offer for couch snuggles still stands whenever you’re ready.

-          Wifey ♡: I know. Thank you. I love you

-          Jungkook: I love you too, my egg :D

-          Wifey ♡: 🙄

-          Jungkook: 😝😂

You don’t text him anything else anymore, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. You gave him a task. More effort. Jungkook will think of the best, most devoted plan ever and literally sweep you off your feet with it. Jungkook spends the rest of his nightly boxing session distracted with making up plans. Once his idea finally comes to him, he abandons the gym instantly, hurrying to get everything ready before you leave your room.

You are a little scared of facing Jungkook again. You sulked for too long. Now it is already midnight and he needed to go to bed alone. You know that he won’t be able to sleep and you are scared of the tired, sleepy begs he will give you. But you couldn’t help yourself. You felt so insecure today and looking at his perfect face taunted you. 

With a heavy, fearful heart, you open the bedroom. You come to a halt, barely managing to close to door and then your mouth falls open. 

Jungkook is kneeling on the floor by the foot end of the bed. He is wearing a black leather collar on which a thick silver chain is attached. Said chain connects to a pair of matching leather handcuffs. Another set of chains connects these with ankle cuffs. He has his head lowered and is completely naked. The only thing keeping his dick modest is a chastity cage. 

The view is doing wonders. But what truly seals the deal are the markings he put on his own body. With the help of his black eyeliner, he wrote your name on different spots on his body. Under his nipples, all over his neck, right above his caged cock, along his arms, all over his thighs and his stomach.

“What’s that?” you gasp. 

Jungkook lifts his head. He also marked his face for you.

“I’m sorry for being a bad devotee, my queen wife. I didn’t manage to show you the proper amount of devotion. My flesh and soul are yours to break tonight.”

You gulp. Just now, your eyes managed to brush over the array of sextoys he laid out on bed behind him. Impact play toys, cock toys, anal toys, nipple toys. He is giving you full and sole authority over his body right now and how it is supposed to experience pleasure. 

Jungkook bows until his forehead rests against the wooden floor. The chains jingle as he moves.

“Please allow me to show you my devotion, my queen wife. I promise to take whatever you deem fit.” 

The sight, his actions, the indications are all indecently sexy and hot but you still melt in fondness. First the flower heart and now this. You never doubted his love for you, but you doubted your own ability to keep him with you. This right here feels so good to experience. 

You close the distance. 

“Look at me.”

Jungkook lifts his head, gazing up at you like a believer seeing his beloved goddess. You take his chin between your fingers. He sighs, leaning into the touch. 

“Those are some pretty letters you put on there.”

“They are the only letters which matter to me because they spell your name, my queen wife.”

“Oh my god”, you let out. “God Kookie…” You kneel down in front of him and kiss him.

Jungkook moans like a sinner finding resolution, tilting his head to deepen the kiss while his cuffed hands stay on his thighs, balling to fists.

“God fuck, Kook”, you get out, breaking the kiss.

Jungkook sighs, chasing you with half-lidded eyes. But another kiss doesn’t come. You move back, cradling his cheeks. Your eyes are a little glassy.

“I’m sorry for how I acted tonight”, you say.

He shakes his head, “don’t talk about this right now, my love. Just take it out on me.”

You smile without showing teeth, sniffling a little. Jungkook leans into your touch, gazing at you.

“If that’s what you want. If the idea is stupid, we can just cuddle and talk instead.”

“No. No cuddles. This idea is perfect”, you say, squishing his cheeks to the point where his lips stick out.

“Okay”, he mumbles with pouted lips, fluttering his lashes at you.

“Good.” You let go of his face. Ghosting your fingertips down his torso.

Jungkook chases your touch with shivers and sighs, gazing at you.

“Look at you. All of that is mine.”

“Everything. All of it”, Jungkook agrees, shivering especially deep when you feel up his thighs. He is so sensitive there.

“You know that you’re perfect? That you’re literally the most attractive man ever?”

“I am?”

“Mhm and it makes me furious sometimes ‘cause I have to fight stupid leeches left and right.”

“The only leech I want sucking my blood is you.”

You laugh. He laughs as well.

“So I’m a leech now?”

“Yeah, but you’re my leech. Just like you’re my egg.”

You push at him gently, “shut up, you’re the egg here.”

He grins cutely, cheek sticking out from it. You squish it and give it a kiss. Jungkook leans into it, wiggling his wrists and making the chains jingle. 

You drop your hands to them, following them until you can intertwine your fingers with him. He squeezes you eagerly, gazing at you.

So now you are kneeling on the floor, facing each other while the bad day is left outside the door.

“We’re gonna be so tired tomorrow”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s worth it. I could spend forever in your arms.”

“Oh Kook”, you lower your head and sniffle. 

“What’s the matter? Talk to me, my love”, he asks you in a caring voice.

“I just feel bad because I pushed you away.” 

“Don’t. I get it. Jealousy can make one act really out of character.” 

“Yeah”, you agree and lift his hands to kiss his knuckles. The chains jingle and he gasps softly. You linger on his wedding band for especially long, memorising the way it sits around his finger eternally and like it was meant to be there. 

“Wanna make up for it”, you say.

“You don’t have to”, he assures you, despite secretly soaking up the affection and wishing for it to last forever.

“No. I do. I really do”, you say and kiss each of his fingers, “mine.”

“Yours. Forever.”

You guide his constricted arms behind your head next so he is holding you. Like this, you close the distance, releasing a sigh of relief the second you melt against his chest. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook closes his eyes, hugging you back as best as his constricted state allows.

“This isn’t right”, you murmur and fumble with the chains. They fall from the ring of the choker, next the choker itself falls off and your face can finally touch his neck. 

You inhale and exhale, “yes. This.” 

Jungkook quite frankly has to fight tears. He expected you to be a little mean to him, but not this. You are so tender and the hug feels so healing. Jungkook has a hard time not sobbing into your shoulder miserably. 

It becomes almost impossible when you begin kissing his neck and quite frankly becomes impossible once you leave your first hickey.

The sensation soaks so deep into his fibers. It feels so good tonight.

“Oh god”, he gets out, rolling his head back and whimpering your name.

You claim his newly exposed neck gladly, starting your heart-fixing task of marking him. Some kisses here and some hickeys there. Jungkook gasps and whimpers with each of them, while you feel more and more reconnected with him.

Your hands touch him everywhere. His arms, his waist, his shoulders and back. But the most favourite spot is when you suck a hickey on his skin and you get to cradle the other side of his neck. It feels so deeply possessive yet gentle.

Jungkook finally breaks when you draw a little heart on his skin. 

“Oh god”, he chokes out and hiccups a few sad sniffles. His constricted hands fall to his face, covering his eyes as best as possible.

You lift your head, looking at him worriedly. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Sorry, today was a lot”, he gets out, trying to mask his sob with a cough. 

“Hey, Googie”, you gasp, pulling his hands away to check on him, “talk to me.”

“I would never cheat on you. I-I’m so angry at myself because I made you feel like I would.” 

“Fuck, no you didn’t. Fuck Googie, come here.” 

You hug him, Jungkook hugs you back as best as possible. He sniffles into your shoulder, but doesn’t need to spill new tears.

“I know you wouldn’t cheat, please don’t be angry at yourself.”

“So you know that I’m loyal?” he mumbles with a pout.

“I do”, you assure him, scratching him behind his ear soothingly.

“Thank god”, Jungkook sighs, melting into you.

“You know, Katy said that you would literally cry if you as much as thought about cheating on me and it seems that she was right.”

“I could never cheat”, he shakes his head, “I love you so much.” 

“I know, Googie I know. I love you too. God, let’s just…let’s get on bed, where it’s more comfortable.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You swipe the toys to the side and push Jungkook onto his back. He lets you gladly, writhing with his eyes halfway closed and his cheeks flushed.

You open the ankle cuffs and chain, taking them off. The new freedom is taken by Jungkook instantly. He uses it to dig his heels into the mattress and open his legs.

Everything about his movements lets you know that he is riding it too. This wave of deep connection. It is as if your souls and energies are forming one synergy. You heal and in the process heal him. He heals and in the process heals you. This right now is one moment of utter connection.

You take off your pyjamas and sit down next to his hips. You cup his cheek, calling his attention. 

Jungkook looks at you and whimpers. His poor constrained cock wants to twitch but can’t. It hurts, forcing a pained whimper out of him and a tortured squirm of his hips to run through him. 

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers, reaching for you with constricted hands. 

“Thank you. You’re beautiful too”, you say and close the distance. You roll on top of him and let him put his arms around you. You rest above his caged cock, head sinking into the pillow next to him and lips brushing his neck. 

Like this, you enjoy each other how nature intended it. Naked skin against naked skin, hearts beating in sync and body warmths becoming one. 

“This is heaven”, he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against you.

“Yeah, it is”, you agree, getting lost in his scent.

The clock shows thirty past midnight by now. You and he are both so sleepy already, exhausted from a bad day and so ready for sleep. Neither of you want to fall asleep however, forcing your bodies to keep moving. 

You keep you and him awake by beginning a journey to his cock. You suck hickeys all over his chest and stomach next to the letters he wrote, making Jungkook feel so fucking good that he has to twist the pillow once you reach his cock.

You shove his legs apart gently and do what drives Jungkook crazy. You leave hickeys on his inner thighs, which feels nice but which feels miniscule once you begin leaving bite marks instead. Jungkook whines so agonised that it borders cute little sobs. It feels so good but he can’t enjoy it freely.

The cage hurts. It is made of metal and digs into his erection painfully. It hurts so much. 

You aren’t making it better by licking him over the cage. Warmth and wetness, the little spots which are bulging out between the cage elements get a feel of your soft tongue as well. 

Jungkook begs. Of course he begs. Jungkook is such a natural at begging.

“Please. Hurts. Please, no more.” 

“Keys?” the word tickles him, increasing his agony. 

Jungkook mewls and lifts his hips. Your eyes flit to his hole. Stuffed with a purple plug. 

“Are you serious?” you gasp.

“Yeah. Please.”

“Shit, this is so hot”, you rasp and tug out the toy. 

His sweet hole gives it up groggily, pulsing in emptiness afterwards. He mewls, curling his toes in desperation. You can only take it in halfway, busy with opening the special plug. It is hollow inside and big enough to store a vibrator. On normal nights this is what fills the toy but tonight, Jungkook stuffed the chastity cage keys into it. You can barely fetch them or use them to unlock his cage because your fingers are shaking so much.

To think that he stored his means of freedom inside himself so you can decide when to give it to him. He is so hot and you want him so bad. 

When the cage finally unlocks, you work quickly to get it off of him, throwing it to the side once you did. 

Jungkook sobs, rolling his hips up. His poor cock finally springs into its natural position, it is purple and bruised at first but flushes more and more the longer he is free. You soothe it by rubbing him with two hands.

Jungkook moans your name, arching off the sheets. His tip flushes, leaking uncontrollably. It feels hot between your fingers as you massage it from both sides.

Your name leaves him again, as a mewled stutter this time around. He has to repeat each of your vowels twice before he finally manages to get it out. He must be so sensitive right now.

“I could fucking pass out right now. I need you so bad”, you say, rubbing your pussy on his thigh unapologetically. The friction is all that keeps you sane. The knowledge that you smear yourself all over his skin is doing the rest.

“Fuck me. Please”, he begs, throbbing and pulsing in your hands. He is leaking so much, unable to stop.

“I will. I fucking will”, you say and climb off his lap. 

Jungkook doesn’t get it, whimpering your name.

“Please.”

“I will, just…need to do this”, you say and take his wrists to guide them above his head. You pick up the chain and shuffle up his body so you can fix the chain on the headboard. You installed your very own hidden hooks for it. They come in handy as you fix him into place. 

Speaking of places, you accidentally picked out the sexiest place to tie him down. Right above his face and you aren’t even noticing it. 

Jungkook makes sure that you notice by lifting his head and connecting his mouth with your pussy.

“Woah”, you gasp, dropping the chain to grip the headboard. You catch yourself at the last moment from sitting down on his face, but you can’t stop the trembles coursing through your legs. 

Jungkook mewls, flicking and swirling his tongue eagerly. You taste so good tonight. You always do, but tonight it hits different. It brings him back to a better reality. A reality where he gets to love you without insecurities nagging at you. A reality where he is your husband and you know what this means. And a reality where his tongue still manages to make you arch your back and moan his name as you clench around nothing.

In this perfect reality this would have continued until he made you climax, but you deny him. You lift yourself and pick up the chains again, securing them on the hooks as quickly as possible just so you can shimmy down again. 

Jungkook feels empty until you give him something else by kissing him deeply. His instincts tell him to sling his arms around you, but the chains hold him back.

He whimpers, destined to kiss you without hugging you while you slowly touch him. The agony becomes especially unbearable when you finally sink him into your warmth. 

He rips his eyes open, moaning into your mouth but it sounds more like gurgled whimpers. You break the kiss, looking at him for those last few inches. 

“Can you feel this?”

“Yeah, it feels so good”, he gets out, spilling tears. He is such a crybaby when you get him subby enough.

“Mhm, it does. Means we’re one. Right?”

“One. We’re one. ___ baby, I love you”, he gets out and sobs in sync with you bottoming out and picking up a rhythm. 

He tugs on the chains again, voice turning from a sob to a moan and head rolling to the side. He squeezes his eyes shut, opening his mouth and furrowing his brows. The hickeys look so pretty on his neck and tears fit his face so well. 

Your heart pounds and dances as you ride him because you are so happy and in love. Jungkook is the perfect man and he is yours. You don’t know what wondrous deeds you did in your previous life to deserve so much luck, but you are eternally grateful. 

“Mine. You’re mine”, you chant, closing your fingers around his throat to cut off his blood flow. 

Jungkook fights the chains, wanting to grasp your arms and force you closer to his neck. He can’t. He has to fight the chains and take the very passionate ride.

“Yours. Yours. Yours”, he keeps chanting, filling the silence up with moans and little sobs as you drive him to the brink of madness.

“Mine, yeah. Fuck, I need more”, you say and sit down on him. You slide your hands from his neck and look behind yourself.  

Jungkook watches you, filling your pussy with his precum as his cock can’t seem to stop throbbing. It hurts to only be warmed. He wants you to bounce on him again. It feels so good when you do because you are so tight and warm and his cock gets jerked off so heavenly. Please he wants you to move and to choke him and to move and, and, and. This is all he needs. Great sex and intense pleasure. 

“There.”

You make his agony unbearable by climbing off him so you could get the toy you spotted.

“Please”, he begs in a shaky whisper, staring at your exposed pussy and ass longingly. You are glistening and look just a little stretched open from his cock. You are also so puffy and look so, so soft. 

He wiggles the chains, whispering your name, “please, it hurts.”

Luckily for him, you return quickly and sink him back inside even quicker.

Jungkook moans, swelling inside you happily. His eyes roll back and close, his back arches.

“You’re too needy”, you tease.

“I love you”, he argues and you have nothing to say to that. 

He is so sweet, making you smile and pick up a rhythm again.

“I love you too, you egg”, you say, rubbing his tummy as you ride his perfect cock to pure ecstasy. The black eyeliner has smeared by now, sitting on his skin messy and unintelligible. It also spread to your skin, deepening the eternal connection you and he have. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous”, you moan, slamming down on him especially hard.

Jungkook mewls, tugging on the chains and curling his toes. His submission drips from each of his blissed moans. How flushed his face is, how messy his hair sticks to it.

The knowledge that you are the only fucking person who gets to see him like this makes you feel so good. The thought that you are also the only person who he allows to be close in such sinful ways does the rest. 

His cock never felt better inside you, giving you pleasure so deep that you feel like floating. And you want more, shifting the toy you got into place.

His eyes are closed so the low hum of the vibrator turning on comes as a surprise to him. Just as the sensations do. The friction of your tightening walls hit him first, the subtle vibrations tickle him next.

Jungkook screams and tugs especially roughly. A dangerous crack follows and suddenly the chains fall from the headboard together with the hook. 

“Did you?” you slow down, staring in shock. He broke the bed.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t stop, please I’ll stay put! Please don’t stop!” he begs, keeping his hands above his head.

“Holy fuck, you’re so damn sexy tonight”, you growl and pick up the rhythm again. You press the vibrator closer to your clit, resting your empty hand on his thigh so you can ride him like there was no tomorrow. 

Skin slaps against skin, wet squelching and slurping joins it and the bed keeps creaking. Jungkook’s endless moans and helpless gasps for air almost overshadow the other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”, he keeps chanting, looking so pretty as he takes the ride.

It is almost one in the morning. You and he are delirious in sleepiness, heads dizzy and drugged up from sex. This is so intense that it is soaking into the deepest parts of your souls.

“Fuck. Your moans”, you get out, hips stuttering.

Moving becomes difficult. Not only are you exhausted, but you are also insanely close to an orgasm. He drives you insane with his noises.

You drop to the front, slamming your hand down on his constricted wrists and burying his face in your tits.

“Gotta shut you up for a moment, otherwise I’ll pass out”, you say.

Jungkook sobs, sucking on your nipples respectively. He drools, he slurps, he cries. Your nipples have never felt more appreciated than they do right now and it is going to make you climax.

“Shit, this is…urgh Kook. Now”, your warning is useless because it still surprises him. 

He muffles his yelp in your chest, fighting your hand because he wants to hug you. You won’t let him yet, needing the support to ride out your high. You moan his name and become a new person.

“Jesus fuck, woah Kook. Ah Kook, holy fuck. Googie baby…”

And Jungkook sobs, head dizzy and air sparse. He is so close. Your orgasmic convulses feel so good around his cock. The vibrations are so intense.

You are tighter after your high, wetter and hotter too. Jungkook is almost at the peak of what he can take. He thinks that he can’t take much more. And then you straighten up. You slide your hand to his nipples to play with them and Jungkook genuinely sobs like the subby crybaby he currently feels like. You stick the vibrator between his legs so it stimulates his rim and parts of his balls. 

Jungkook was right. He can’t take much more.

“Please stop! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, show me who gets you so high”, you allow him, rubbing the vibrator on his sensitive hole and pinching his nipple.

Jungkook wails, kicking the mattress and arching his back.

“___!”

He almost throws you off from how aggressively he bucks his hips up, but you are used to his wild side. You know how to ride the little beast that is your husband when pleasure really controls him. You slam your hips down, rendering him useless as you intensify his orgasm tenfold. 

Jungkook cries real tears once it stops. He begs and begs and begs. 

“Please no more. Please, it hurts. Please, sensitive. Please stop.”

And you listen. Well, in your own sadistic ways. You slip off his cock but give him no break. You press the vibrator against his frenulum and squeeze down on his lower stomach.

“Please, hurts. Please, oh god please”, he sobs and coughs, writhing and kicking helplessly as you overstimulate him. You are hovering above his shaky legs, leaking the thick creampie he stored inside you. What a shame that you are leaking, but it is for the greater good. Like this, you can torture him and overstimulate him until he gives you what you crave.

And because it is Jungkook and tonight left him so fucking ruined, it doesn’t take him long to reach it. Another orgasm. So much more intense and slightly painful it hits him. The pressure you have on his bladder decides his fate. He squirts what he held inside, ruining his tensed stomach and the sheets. 

He keeps begging the entire time to please make it stop, to please know that he is sorry, to please be gentler. But he doesn’t get it as he orgasms, of course he doesn’t. You want him dry and empty with the knowledge that he will only find pleasure like this with you burned into his mind. This is your way of making sure he is corrupted and loyal to you like a starved man wanting more food.

“Please I’m dizzy, please” he begs, crying miserably. What a cute crybaby he is.

The gentleness comes after when you turn off the toy and throw it to the side, when you wipe the orgasm from his stomach and open the handcuffs. And then you hug him and he finally gets to hug you back, sobbing into your chest as his entire body trembles from what just happened.

“Oh god, oh my god.”

“I’m here. Let it out”, you assure him, holding him close as he pours out his vulnerable heart. 

It is some time past one when he finally calmed down.

“Oh god”, he gets out, shuddering. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“Do you love me again?”

“What? Gosh Googie, of course I do. I never stopped loving you.”

“Then I feel better”, he whispers and hugs you closer, “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so fucking vulnerable. Oh god, everything is sore and, and warm.”

“Yeah, this was pretty intense. You did really well.”

“I just feel so good when I’m with you”, he presses out and looks up at you. His eyes are devoted and glassy.

“I feel good too, my love.” 

He smiles and you smile too, wiping the remnants of his tears.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Googie.”

“Oh god”, he giggles, kicking his feet, “I feel so good.” 

“Mhm that’s good. Wanna talk about the broken headboard now? You felt a little too good there, didn’t you?” you tease him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. You made me feel so good and I couldn’t control my strength. Just wanted to hold you.”

“Mmh, it’s okay. It’s kinda funny.” You snicker and scrunch your nose. “And hot. My strong hubby.” 

Jungkook giggles, heart fluttering. 

“Yeah, yours. Your hubby. Yours. I love you”, he gets out, heart fluttering even more when you retort it.

“I love you too.”

“And you know that I’m yours?”

“Yes Googie, I do. You’re mine and I’m yours.” “Yeah, forever.”

You and he share a giddy kiss and get comfortable. You slip under his blanket and pull your pillow closer so you can stay on his side. The reason for your minimised space is the huge wet spot Jungkook left on your side. 

“Sorry for dirtying the bed”, he murmurs. 

“Is okay. It’s ruined anyway. I think we smeared your eyeliner everywhere.”

He giggles and hugs you closer, nuzzling his nose against you. You snicker, melting into him.

“Did you like it? I planned it really well”, he fishes for praise.

“I loved it. You look so sexy with my name on your body”, you give him the praise, sending his heart into overdrive, “thank you for your efforts, I really cherish them.”

“Anything for you”, he squeaks out, close to bursting in giddiness. He did enough! You felt his efforts and loved them! Oh, he will fly and dance and sing in his dreams tonight.

You and he are so tired, sleep is just an arm’s length away. Silence would be the most logical thing to share, but Jungkook still has something else to share.

“Do you wanna know something?”

“Yes, tell me.”

“Katy and Joe were really close today when I came over after work. They were this close to holding hands, I think.”

“Oh my god, this is so exciting. I’m telling you, it’s gonna happen this week. They’re gonna hold hands.”

Jungkook agrees with a little excited squeak and a nod of his head. You and he share giggles, nuzzling into each other giddily. You and he feel so good. Not only did you have amazing sex right now and made each other feel like heaven, you even got to have your daily late night snuggles talks.

This is the best ending to an otherwise bad day. Even if you wake up deadly tired the next day. Totally worth it.

[airaibunny]

MISC SMUT PROMPTS

1. “no underwear? did you plan this?”

2. “are you just going to watch?”

3. “but the cameras” - “they can’t see us from this angle, if you can stay still”

4. “you’re such a needy girl”

5. “you just keep doing what you’re doing”

6. “you’re fucking soaked”

7. “you make me so wet”

8. “can i ask you for something?”

9. “please don’t think i’m weird for this…”

10. “does that turn you on?”

11. “i need your fingers”

12. “say/do it like you mean it”

13. “scream my name while you cum”

14. “why don't you make it up to me?"

15. “touch yourself, i want to watch”

16. “on your knees”

17. “turn around”

18. “bend over”

19. “spread your legs”

20. “open wider”

21. “sit on my thigh/face/etc”

22. “lift your leg”

23. “i’m bored, let’s play”

24. “i can see you staring at my tits/thigh/ass”

25. “harder”

26. “it’s my turn now”

27. “i didn’t mean to call you that, i’m sorry” - “no! don’t apologize, i liked it…”

28. “spank me”

29. “choke me”

30. “bite me”

31. “you can practice on me”

32. “this is a one time thing”

33. “i thought you said it was a one time thing?”

34. “we can’t do this”

35. “i ordered us something”

36. “that looks too big”

37. “you bought a vibrator?”

38. “sit here”

39. “while standing?”

40. “give me your hand”

41. “i’m/it’s all over your chin”

42. “do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

43. “why are you being so shy? it’s not like i haven’t already seen all of you”

44. “you’re so spoiled”

45. “can we use a toy?”

46. “can i use a toy on you?”

47. “just like that”

48. “nobody can know about this, okay?”

49. “how are you so close already?”

50. “i can see how wet you are through your shorts”

51. “can you be quick?”

52. “please, i’ll finish fast”

53. “use your mouth”

54. “why do you get so shy when i use that word?”

55. “where do you want me to touch you?” - “down there…” - “you have to say the word”

56. “on the counter/table/etc?”

57. “have you seen the things the the fans write about you and *other celeb*?”

58. “pull my hair”

59. “open your mouth”

60. “you’re such a messy girl”

61. “take off your underwear” - “but, there’s other people here” - “they won’t see you, there’s an entire table here”

62. “open your eyes”

63. “look at me while you cum”

64. “do you want me to use my fingers/mouth?”

65. “do you want to join me?”

66. “how bad do you want it?”

67. “it’s too late for this” - “you don’t have to do anything, just stay laying down”

68. “can you stay quiet if i take this call?”

69. “we could get kicked out for this”

70. “don’t make me say it, you know what i want”

71. “you’re so annoying” - “would i still be annoying eating you out?”

72. “put your leg over my shoulder”

73. “there’s no one else here, be louder”

74. “i’m going to fuck you against the windows, i want everyone to see how good you are for me”

75. “stop being gentle”

76. “you can’t leave marks”

77. “we are not doing this standing, there’s a bed right there”

78. “do you like it when i spank you?”

79. “use my thigh”

80. “if you hate me so much, why are you letting me do this?”

81. “you’re really telling me to stop while both of your hands are in my shirt?”

82. “i still hate you”

83. “this is just sex, no strings”

84. “fuck you” - “well, that’s what we’re doing isn’t it?”

85. "you can take it like a good girl, right?"

86. “that was a nice way to wake up"

87. "how about we give them something to talk about?"

88. "dressing room, now"

89. "you/we need to be on stage in 15 minutes" ... "i don't care"

[marthawrites]

Could you write smut for Aemond targaryen with the prompts 17,40,44,47,53 and 54 maybe with a targaryen reader? Just something gentle, sweet and soft <3 btw I’m talking abt this prompt list

I absolutely can! Apologies for making you wait since January for this. I hope you're still around to see (and, fingers crossed) enjoy it!

"Vok" (Perfect)

Aemond Targaryen x sister reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.

Includes: SMUT. Featuring brother x sister incest, Aemond is soft but only to his little sister, dirty talk, female masturbation, guided masturbation, praise, unprotected vaginal sex, and a splash of breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! It's been a hot minute since I've wrote Aemond - the posters and trailers have me going (affectionately) insane! Triple warning: this fic is brother x sister targcest. If you do not like that KEEP ON SCROLLING. This is my first time writing this dynamic. Reader is implied to have silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. Everything else is up to you! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️

-

To the realm, Aemond Targaryen was the cruel prince. Aloof, stoic, unforgiving.

To the realm, he was an ambitious and willful young man who rode Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world–the same dragon who helped Queen Visenya conquer Westeros.

To the realm, he was the second son of King Viserys. And, as such, would play the game of nobility by putting duty above love–marrying outside of his Targaryen lineage to seed dragons further into the world.

To you, his little sister and second daughter of King Viserys, he was your protector. 

Your secret.

A poorly kept secret in some corners of the castle; nosy servants and their obnoxious fucking tendencies. But, with Aemond’s less than idle threats about cutting the tongue out of anyone’s throat who would speak about it, it ended up being a well-kept secret.

The second son and second daughter of the Dragon King; who better to love, and cherish, and pledge to, than each other?

Aemond would sooner die than see you marry off to some lowly lord of a “great” House. You were the blood of Old Valyria. Everyone–no matter their feats–was lowly in comparison to you. And you, his sweet sister, deserved only the best.

Barely a year separated your ages. Neither of you remembered a life without the other.

Long before you gave your maidenhead to your brother you gave him your heart. And your heart he held.

-

The night was late. These dark hours were some of the only unadulterated times you had together. Aemond kissed you slowly, passionately, gently stroking along your cheeks with his thumbs as he did. You were tangled in his bed together. You, stripped down to only your shift, and him, stripped down to only his sleep trousers. One of your shift’s thin straps kept sliding down your shoulder, and each time it did Aemond’s warm mouth kissed over the smooth lovely skin. You panted soft sounds–each feminine simper jolting right to his cock–as he lavished you in affection. 

“You’re kissing me silly, lēkia (brother). My head feels full of bees and I’m hot. So, so hot,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen mouth. “Will you not feel for yourself?” He hadn’t yet made a move to touch you where you really, truly, wanted him; something that had you whining and pouting. While his hands alternated between stroking your face and groping your body–waist, hips, thighs–yours were buried in his hair. It was all down and free. The silken sheet of it spilled over his shoulders, spilled over you, and you relished the feel of it inside your hands. Against your bare skin. “Please?”

“Please what, hāedar? (little sister)” He asked, voice mellow with just the right amount of rumble from his chest.

“Please touch me,” you answered, back naturally arching to press your soft body against the hard planes of his own.

Another low sound came from him. He pressed a warm, wide palm up the perfect curve of your back until he squeezed into the nape of your hair. “Such a pretty word from a pretty mouth. Have my kisses made you ache with need, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon)?”

“Yes.” The single word, its single syllable, rolled off your tongue before your brain even fully registered his question. You stared at him desperately. One eye was so beautiful; so ancient in its color and proclamation, just like your own. The other reflected faceted edges of the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. You didn’t know which was more enchanting.

“How long can you go, hm? Without me touching you?”

“W-what?”

He laughed. A rumble beneath his pale, taut chest. “How long before you succumb to madness by me not touching your perfect cunny?”

“Aemond…,” you whined. Pitiful. “Not much longer! Please, lēkia, I need you, please.”

A serpent’s grin curved his mouth and darkened his eye as he shifted positions with you. Now, he sat upright with his back against his headboard and pulled you to sit in front of him. 

You nestled between his legs, your back flush with his chest, and his stiff cock rested against the small of your back. A blush bloomed beneath your cheeks. You knew lust ran as wild in his veins as it did in yours.

“Tell me, sweet sister…,” he started, whispering by your ear. Both his hands cupped and squeezed over your breasts. Their softness melted against his palms and he groaned at the sensation. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect. “Have you touched yourself to peak before?”

A stammer replaced the little mewl in your throat. “H-how do you mean?”

He laughed again, pinching your nipples. “Mm… are you sure?”

Lust and need and fire roared in your blood to the point of almost drowning everything else out. “I d-don’t understand,” you admitted. But, it was a lie. You knew what he meant. You could only hope he’d go easy on you so you wouldn't have to admit, prove, or say you knew what he spoke of.

“Why are you playing shy with me, hāedar? I think you know exactly what I mean. There is no shame in it,” he spoke sly, hands pushing the hem of your shift up until he held the material in a fist upon your abdomen. With his other hand he tugged your smallclothes down your bare legs, tossing them off. The flats of all his fingers ghosted over your exposed cunt. Testing you. Feeling you. He hissed an inward breath. “Fuck–”, he growled. “‘Tis a good thing I was born a prince. Gods know if I had this wet little cunt between my thighs I wouldn’t get anything done. Ever. For how often I’d fuck myself silly on my own fingers.”

Aemond’s vulgarity sent a coil of tension wringing in your belly. Slick arousal pooled hotter beneath his touch. Your clit throbbed–the little pearl silently screaming for attention. “Yes,” you breathed, shuddering.

“Yes, what?”

Your older brother wasn’t going easy on you. “Yes. I… I know what you speak of. And.. yes, I do. Sometimes…,” you admitted with a wave of embarrassment.

Somehow he grew harder against the small of your back. He throbbed. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What! Aemond, no. Please, please, please no. Don’t make me show you.” Mortification replaced your previous embarrassment. Yet, your spine quivered with another rush of liquid arousal.

“I would love nothing more than to see how you bring yourself pleasure. Do you think of me when you do, byka zaldrīzes?”

You nodded. Dizziness warbled your brain. 

“Such a sweet perfect thing,” he cooed. He'd felt that nervous energy tense you. He also saw the exquisite thrum of your pulsepoint beneath your neck, too. Two sides of the same coin: carnal desire. When he spoke again it dripped with wicked passion. “Don’t be nervous, I'll guide you through it.”

It had been quite some time since you last brought yourself to climax all on your own. Aemond was always more than eager to give you pleasure. Tonight, however, something was different. Idly you wondered what it could be. Before you thought about it too much, Aemond guided your dominant hand to that delicate space between your thighs. You gasped at the sensation of your own touch. Torture never felt so divine. Your little bud sang as you circled it, rubbed over it. You sighed sweetly. “How did you make me so wet?”

It took controlled effort to not spill himself across your back at that very moment. “Spread your legs for me, princess. Let me see and hear what you’re doing.”

You obeyed. With your legs spread wider, now, it was all the easier to resume your previous motions. Flicking and rubbing over your bud felt divine–excited little sounds already spilled from your mouth. You ached inside, too, wanting–needing–to be stretched around something. The memory of Aemond's long fingers pumping into you while his thumb claimed your clit had your face hot. You couldn't reach those same spots he could. You bit your bottom lip, whimpering.

Aemond watched from above with a hungry lecherous eye. Beneath your shift he could see your breasts, slope of belly… and then further below, your creamy thighs spilled wide open. Fuck–he was so hard his back hurt. Your girlish sounds sent his desire blazing. “Your little clit is so achy, isn’t it? I know how much you like it played with,” he said by your ear. “Do you ever go inside?”

You nodded, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. You stayed on your pearl, still, legs tensing with bliss as it warmed and tingled your blood.

“Show me,” he growled again. “Be a good girl. And afterward? Don’t worry, I'll take care of you. Promise.” 

Without hesitation you pushed two of your fingers into your warmth. Your body squeezed around the intrusion, inner walls flexing, trying to pull them in deeper. A gasped moan left your parted lips. “I-I’ve never done this before.” You’ve never shown anyone this before is what you meant. Aemond knew what you meant.

“I know. Shh… it’s okay, I'll guide you through it.” He gently touched the top of your hand and relished your little tendons flexing with the effort of your self pleasure. He pushed–coaxing your fingers deeper, silently urging you along. More. 

Soon the wet sounds of your hand against pink swollen flesh mingled with your moans. Lewd. Dirty. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But it felt too good, and Aemond’s hand on yours guiding you along had your toes curling. Of course he would help you. Of course he wouldn’t let you do it all on your own. “Aem..!,” you whimpered, hips rocking with your movements. “‘M close.”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice heavy.

As soon as your fingers found that little patch of hidden nerves along your walls, you weren’t able to hold on much longer. The bliss, all at once, became too much. Tension snapped in your belly as colors flashed behind your closed eyelids. Your legs trembled at the tip of your peak, and as you crested downwards Aemond held you tighter against him.

“Vok (perfect),” he said as he watched you. How perfect you were with your silver hair framing your face. How perfect you looked when ecstasy became too much. How fucking perfect your eyes were as they opened and locked on his, bright and glassy with excitement. 

You carefully pulled your fingers free and began to turn around to face him. Before you could, however, he held you tighter against him. Confusion furrowed your brow and whatever you were about to say was cut off by his impatience.

“I’m greedy, byka zaldrīzes. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it. Show me again how you peak.”

Without arguing you again settled back against him. You planted your feet along the outside of his legs, spilling your thighs open wider than they were before. You angled your hips to the perfect position and this time a third finger joined your previous two. This time you fucked yourself without shame–not that you held on to it long in the first place.

Aemond all but snarled behind you, absolutely ravenous at the sight of three of your little fingers pumping and curling up into your body. He moved a hand downward, too, and the pads of those fingers worked over your clit in time with your pumps.

“Gods! Aem–!” You quivered against him. The addition of his lascivious attention had your hips squirming. Wanton moans, no longer trying to stay quiet, had your mind blanking. Nothing existed outside of you and Aemond. Nowhere existed outside of the spaces in which your bodies touched. Climax found you faster this time. Your second orgasm had you crumbling against him. Sweat sheened your brow. Your face bloomed. Sated. You were wholly sated.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl. Giving me exactly what I wanted,” he kissed you, stealing your lips in a kiss that had you floating all over again. You could have fallen asleep right there in his arms and been the happiest thing in the realm. Breaking away, he added, “now I’ve a promise to make up to you, hm?”

Honestly, you’d forgotten about it. But, now that he mentioned it, your belly did a silly little flop.

With great care, Aemond moved from behind you and stood. Offering a hand to you, he said, “take your clothes off and lay on your back.”

And with that, you both finally shed the last pieces of your clothing. 

Laying like he said, you leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up to still see your brother. Spilled messy hair, tall lean body littered with nicked scars, sapphire eye on full display…hard cock blushed angry red with need. They say Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men, and with the hearth’s orange light reflecting on his ivory form, you believed him to be a God.

Aemond thought the same about you as you laid there bathed in the moonlight and hearthlight. 

“Spread your legs for your lēkia, I want to see you.”

As soon as you did–proudly showing off the slick mess of two climaxes, Aemond pumped along his rigid length. Despite butterflies twirling in your belly, your smile up at him was purely feline.

To Aemond’s credit, his voice only broke slightly when he said, “get on your hands and knees.”

You did. You dipped your spine as low as it could comfortably go, propping your ass up for him. As much as he loved fucking you with your legs wrapped around his waist, you knew he loved this position, too. “Māzigon va, lēkia (come on, brother),” you purred. “Keep to your promise.”

In an instant one of his hands squeezed harshly into the fat of your hip while the other spread the meat of your ass apart. He planted one foot firmly on the bed, and the other stayed rooted on the ground. The position gave him more leverage, and power, and control as he loomed above you. With a flex of his entire abdomen he pushed forward; the hot stretch of your body around him had both of you gasping. “I plan on leaving a babe in your belly tonight, hāedar. That way mother will have no other choice than to wed us,” he groaned, pulling backwards only to snap his hips against the smooth underside of your cheeks once again. And again.

You fisted the sheets as Aemond fucked you. You moaned your delight at his words, nodding. “Yes, please,” you panted. “Faster,” you begged.

His thrusts were precise and brutal. The slap of your smacking skin was utterly depraved and you hated–no, loved–how it made you impossibly wetter. Aemond did too. “Already squeezing around me? Fuck–I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, strained.

You began to push back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway with a frenzied need to make him release. “Fill me. Fill me up, Aem,” you still begged, breathing heavily. 

He rutted against you with the same need–a primal haze taking over as his stones began to tighten. His fingers dented firmly into your flesh as he continued plunging in and out of you. Instinct to spill his seed built by the moment and soon he became sloppy. He grunted and growled, and with a final shove–cock buried as deep as it could be inside your walls–he spent against your body’s end. Pulse after mighty pulse emptied his spend into you. Stray strands of hair stuck to a sheen of sweat upon his forehead.

You joined him in peak; left boneless and exhausted after three orgasms. Even at the top of your bliss, and his, he never eased until you were both done.

Aemond pulled his softening length out from you and urged you to fall forward upon his bed. You followed his motion and happily laid there. Naked, glowing, and full. You reached a hand out to pull him to you. “Avy jorrāelan (i love you).”

Aemond easily settled next to you, scooping you into him. “Avy jorrāelan tolī (i love you too),” he said between slow, satisfied kisses.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @rafeism @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

[zankivich]

Good Boy - Michael "Robby" Robinavich x female reader

Summary: 3.1k Post-finale fic in which Robby comes homes from the Pitt in the aftermath of the mass casualty event. The events of the day hit him all at once until you find him in a full-blown panic attack in your bathroom.

Warnings: 18+ content. angst. panic attack. soft bdsm undertones. smut, explicit content. Hand jobs as therapy. color system. comfort.

a/n: I can't believe it took a 54 year old emotionally stunted white boy with a stethoscope to pull me from the depths of fic purgatory. But a'las....for the girlies. I missed writing for sad boys.

It's the short huffy breaths that let you into what's going on.

You heard the initial thrashing as he closed the bathroom door to put space between the two of you, but that could mean anything. Could mean Robby finally hit his limit or your often smart ass mouth for the evening. Could mean the exhaustion of the shift had caught up to him. Sometimes Robby would shuffle over the threshold with the weight of the world on his shoulders, slightly catatonic until morning. He'd come out of the bathroom with water stains on his shirt and toothpaste in his beard, missing his glasses with that let you see the depths of his eyes. 

All of that would've been normal dealing with Robby. The two of you had been at this for 5 years and even still it sometimes got to be too much – just existing as humans in the world. You'd learned to listen to the signs even when you weren't asked. Let your body rest against the hallway arch closest to the bathroom for just a few minutes, just to check in. The gasping is what clued you in. You don't hesitate anymore. It's not your style. The need to be there overwhelms you every time.

He's still in his scrubs on account of he'd only gotten home from his shift a whopping 20 minutes ago. Long enough to pace around your kitchen while you got him a beer he couldn't slow down long enough to chug. The panic had been clear on his face after all. You'd should've seen it coming from a mile away. 

His back presses against the wall, his head resting shakily between his knees. He keeps trying to force the air past his lips but the rhythm is off kilter. His hands are in fists against his shins. A west gasp echoes in the stillness of the moment and before you know it you're on your knees in front of him.

"Hey. Hey Robby it's me. I'm right here."

Your fingers slide through the thinner parts of his hair at the top spiking the strands roughly in your haste for contact. He pushes into the warmth of the touch and shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably, still not getting the air he needs.

"Robby. I need you to listen to me. Do you want me to take control right now? I need you to use your words."

His chest heaves, the hiss of his lips pulling at the air audible .

"Take it. Take it, please."

And just like that the dynamic of the two of you pulses like a static shift in the air. You cup the back of his neck and pull him in close so that your words can penetrate the sinking hole he's wading in.

"Slow it down for me. I know you're scared. But follow my breaths. You're hyperventilating."

Your free hand works to unfurl one of his fists and lies his palm at the base of your throat. You practice over exaggerating your breaths, letting the rhythm pass between you. He struggles to align himself with you. It’s one good breath for every three that are shaky. 

"It's okay. You're doing so good for me. Such a good boy."

His breath hitches at the same language that typically has a much different effect on him. But now isn't the time for shenanigans, you just need him to fucking breathe. 

And he does. Slowly between chapped lips and his hand pressed firm against your chest. He breathes out, already exhausted, and the blood pulses bright beneath his skin in unevens swatches alerting you to the extent of his panic.

Robby collapses into you and the gasp of his breath is quickly replaced with sobs that come spilling out one after the other. You work to gather him up in your arms, body shifting against porcelain as you both collapse in a heap.

" it's okay. Let it all out for me okay?"

There's a subtle tilt to your voice. One only Robby would ever notice. A bit of authority and grit - enough to say, “I'm in charge right now”. So when you voice a command it is just that. The man who still struggled to voice his opinion on restaurants was left compelled to voice his own pain. Assuming of course he had any capacity at all to stop this wall from crashing down around him. If nothing else it saves him a little embarrassment, protects his pride long enough to get him through this. 

When it’s clear he’ll live to breathe another day, you reach immediately for the jacket shoved up the length of his arms, pushing at the sleeves to start to rid him of a few layers. 

“Let’s get you into the shower. Get you warm, hmm?” 

He doesn’t push nor voice enthusiasm but he does let you move his body like a rag doll. He lifts his arms over his head for you to pull at the scrub top and under shirt. There’s some creaking in his knees when he stands to let you at his bottoms and boxer briefs. You reach for his knuckles and kiss the skin there, dry from years of alcohol-based sanitizers, hand washing and chronic glove wearing. And finally he catches your eye for the first time since you walked into the room. Tears drip following the slanted slope of his nose, drifting down across curved frown lines from years of existential dread. They’re still present, collecting unevenly in the expanse of his beared as you press a kiss to his face.. Robby is tactile on his worst days. Right now, touch is the only thing keeping him from exploding all over your bathroom. 

“I need to get the shower running okay? Just give me a few seconds. ‘Gonna take care of you, I promise.” 

He sniffles and nods working his way through another gasp of air. 

The sound of the water pelting the shower floor just slightly mutes the sounds of Robby cries, though he doesn’t let up in the time it takes to remove your own sweats from a night long forgotten. Not that it matters. You'd let him cry for hours if that’s what it took. His face has found refuge in his hands and you gently pry one off long enough to lead him into the steam of the shower. 

You park him right in front of the heavy stream - letting the warm water do its magic. It gets you a soft grunt for your efforts. You reach for the scentless soap wishing more than ever you’d stuck to your feminine wiles on the use of lavender eucalyptus and lemon blossoms in the bath department. Instead you’d let the old man swap it for more sterile options that did nothing to alleviate the tension pooling in every body part. Also bathtime should be fun. Boo.

Armed with suds you aim first for his hips inching your arms around him from behind to touch at the softness of his belly. It has its intended effect, Robby arching bowed outward like a cat in need of a tummy rub. A man’s tummy is a sensitive place after all, and you wanted nothing more than to add another point of contact to the line up.

He hiccups another tear out and lets your hands sculpt across his form fingers tightening at dense muscle hardened by another day of trauma. His arm. His back. His shoulders. His body is clinging to every ounce of emotion but the dam has finally broken.

“You’re okay now.” you whisper between feather light kisses to his spine. “You’re with me. I only want to make you feel good.” 

There’s a hidden understanding between you. You both do this thing where you let all the ugly and the pain fill you up, high functioning your way through life until it eventually chokes you (sometimes literally). It always becomes too much. It’s destined from the beginning in its failure and yet here you are. And what each of you really needs is just someone to stand there and weather through the storm beside you. To seep away a little of the humiliation of feeling things you don’t want to feel.

He can’t speak yet but lets his hand cover yours against his hip. Squeezes in thanks, alarm even. It’s bad this time. How’d it get this bad again? 

“I love you, Michael.”

Anything to pull him back into his own body, back into the present with you. Even if it’s using his government name. 

Again you earn a little eye contact as he turns his body just slightly towards you, back facing the water now.  You reach for the shampoo he keeps in your shower for those nights he oversleeps and needs to make his shift with no time to stop back home. Your toes grip firmer at the tub as you arch up to busy yourself with washing his hair. The sweet nothings don’t stop. Anything to fill this space between the two of you. Try to replace it with something good.

“You’re perfect to me, you know that? Always do exactly as you're told.” You humm in approval. “I’m so proud of you. My good, sweet boy.” 

His bottom teeth jut out in pleasure, disrupting some of the mask of his pain and his grief. It’s a start. 

Robby lets you rinse the shampoo from his hair. Doesn’t even seem to mind when you scrub your fingers through his beard with that special shampoo you got him for his birthday this year. Typically the beard is sacred. Tonight, nothing is more sacred than your hands on him. 

And when he’s all clean and you back him gently up against the corner out the way of the stream, your hands still sudsy with bubbles, all that’s on your mind is pleasure. 

Your fingers brush against the length of him with more purpose than before. He jolts ever so slightly in your arms. 

“We don’t have to. I can get you straight to bed. You’ll still be good to me.”

He shakes his head. Still doesn’t really have the words to share. But his hands loosen slightly at his sides  and he presses the faintest of kisses against your shoulder blade. It’s the most you’ll get tonight. 

You slide to your knees letting your lips first get at that jut of his hip where the water just barely mists the skin. Above you somewhere you hear a sigh, notice the broadening stance of his legs as he makes room for you. Your knees give a little creak of their own reminding you of the tenuous nature of shower blow jobs. You’d say a prayer or a hail mary but your attention is a bit diverted at the moment. 

Robby thickens in your hand with each passing moment, the sensation alone enough to get him going tonight. Or maybe it’s the need to please you through submission. If only he could be a good boy for the night, then maybe everything else wouldn’t be so impossible in the morning. Breathing wouldn’t be so impossible in the morning. Being wouldn’t be so impossible. 

When your mouth is on him it’s hard to argue the semantics of good vs. bad. Your hand is sprawled against the dip in his sternum as desperate to touch him as he is to be touched. The weight of him on your tongue. The leftover hint of soap. His thigh twitching where your shoulder rests to steady yourself. Before you can fully swallow him his hands are circling your wrists to pull you to a stop. So you do. 

His voice comes out rough, hoarse from panic and tears. 

“Can you just please come up here. I want – want to be close to you” 

He helps you stand, opens his arms so you can step into them, and quickly rests his damp head against your shoulder. It’s certainly easier for your knees. And you’d never say no to the way his chest feels pressed against yours. 

“It got bad . . . I got bad today.” He admits slowly. “I let people down.” 

“I understand. It got to be too much. You got overwhelmed.” 

He nodded gravely. “Fucked up. I’m a fuck up.” 

You pause trying to parse through the last couple of minutes. Nothing with Robby is ever linear and sometimes you have to go backwards to piece it all together.  His hard on pokes against the base of your belly and he shifts to put space between you. You let out a sigh of your own. 

“Are you saying . . . that you aren’t worthy of this? You don’t want me to take care of you?” 

It’s important not to put words in his mouth. You play back what you hear but you’ve gotta let him paint the picture. 

“I’m saying . . . I don’t want you wasting your time on something that can’t be fixed.” 

Great so full blown nihilism would be the flavor of tonight's festivities. 

“Mhm. Color?” 

Robby paused. 

“I need to hear your color Robby.” 

“...Green. It’s green.” 

“Good. So tonight you’re not making decisions on how I spend my time. I am making the decisions. Is that still okay with you?”

He lowers his head but nods. 

“Need to hear you.” 

“It’s okay with me.” 

“Good boy.” 

You reach for the lube that also remains conveniently organized within your shower because the two of you are nothing if not organized. You lean back just enough to slide your hand in-between you and wrap your fingers around the head. The world gets a little quieter and his hands find their way to your hips, eyes scrunched closed. 

“Look at me.” 

His cheeks are blotchy which could be the shower or could be his body’s natural insistence on betraying him in times of anything remotely intimitate. You reach to cradle the swell of his balls massaging gently at the skin. His face lights up at the contact. Bodily reactions it is. 

“I love you. I’ll love you tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. No matter what happens at work. Just let me show you that.” 

The swollen head peaks out of your fist the more you work him over and Robby starts to make the kind of sounds you can get behind. Broken whimpers, shuddering breaths (the good kind), and your name whenever you get the combination of stroke and tug just right. The best part is when he digs his teeth into your shoulder to try and silence himself as if that’s an option. 

“Uh uhh. I need to hear you. Please? I wanna listen to you come apart for me.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Not this time. Just lil’ ole me.” You grin. 

Was there science to suggest an orgasm immediately after a panic attack was clinically proven to return one to homeostasis? Who knows, you were too busy making your boyfriend cum. 

“Please, I–I’m close.” 

You feel a puff of breath against your neck as he ruts his hips trying to get closer to your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how good pleasure looked on Robby. The smile lines tightening in the corner of his eyes. And the way his cheeks puff when he’s struggling to keep himself whole, when all you want is the opposite. Want to make him splinter in his release. It’s fucking gorgeous if you did say so yourself. 

You let go of his balls and dipped backwards towards his perineum thankful to be with a man secure enough if his sexuality to make space for exploration. You place your thumb against the space there, rubbing with increasing pressure while you pump at the head. His arms shoot out to ground himself against the wall and you smile as you watch him tip delightfully over the edge. 

His orgasm comes just as quickly, the last of the panic washing out of him finally until he’s sobbing for a new reason all together.

“Beautiful, you know that? You’re fucking beautiful to me.” You assure him

The water washes away the remnants of the session and it gives you the space to kiss him softly for the first time tonight. His breaths are finally even and his heartbeat calm. It’s all you really wanted since you walked through the door. 

There’s fluffy towels on wet shoulder blades and forehead kisses in the hallway. You ease him back against your bed and he lets you take a moment to stare at him unabashedly at him boneless and sated against your sheets. 

There’s much to say, hopefully some healing to do. But tonight this is enough. Just the two of you here together sharing in each other’s comfort. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles against your chest all wrapped up tight in your arms. 

It's both a protection thing in making him feel surrounded by warmth and affection and all things good. It's also a bit of reinforcements so you know he won't go padding around the house working himself up again. Not your first time at the rodeo.

“You’re welcome. Go to sleep. We can figure it out tomorrow. Together.” 

“M’kay”

The End.

[kazumist]

disclaimer: no it is not my birthday today. i just wanted to try writing again

11:54 PM.

“it feels weird that i’m turning a year older.”

childe lets out a breathy chuckle through the phone—it was soft and light, one that you would never get tired of. “only a few minutes left, are you excited?” you asked yourself the same question for a moment. “i guess so? but this doesn’t make it any different from the other times i waited for the clock to strike midnight.”

“what time were you born?” he then asks. “huh? what’s that got to do with anything?” you ask him back. “did you know that you’re not officially twenty until the clock hits the time you were born?” he could feel your deadpan expression at him, even if he couldn’t see your face during the call at the moment.

“that’s bullshit, ajax.”

“it isn’t, i swear!”

“don’t give me that crap; only you would believe such a saying!”

ajax then laughs at your reaction. you were right though; it’s not really true. nor does that really matter; it just depends on what one would like to believe in. but childe believes in what he said. “but seriously, what time were you born?” you pondered a moment, trying to recall the timestamp that was written in your album back then when you were just an infant. “i think it was around four in the morning? a quarter after four.”

12:00 AM.

when the clock strikes twelve, childe still sang happy birthday to you, only for it to be followed by “well, you aren’t really twenty just yet,” which earned him a threat from you to end the call if he continues it any further.

as the night continues, it was just the same routine that you and ajax have when you call each other during the night. you guys talk—a lot. and there’s also times when both of you just stay in the call in silence as you do your own thing. yet neither of you noticed that the clock was nearing your time of birth.

4:15 AM.

while you were in the midst of telling childe something about your childhood (he thinks that he could never get tired of hearing about yours since his wasn’t all that interesting in comparison), he suddenly spoke. “hey look, you’re officially twenty now.”

your eyes glanced at the time displayed on your phone screen, and sure enough, it was indeed a quarter after four in the morning. 

“huh, you’re right.”

“happy birthday again, (name).”

[kyoshithewriter]

The Assistant.

Wc: 5.2k

Warnings: Smut (18+).

A/n: And boom, the ‘start’ of the erotic series (even though I have smut in most my works lol) but this series will be little to no plot fr. It will feature some AUs (strictly writing about them as athletes is boring!) and of course, some good ole cliches. Remember you can request who you want to see next in this series. Enjoy?

Rich, jet black coffee threatens to spill over the white porcelain mug as Desiré’s limbs tremble on her slow trek toward the large, wooden door. She should be used to this, she has been here for more than five months now; yet, every time she has to enter his office it’s a nerve wracking experience. The man behind the door is intimidating— the kind of intimidating that would shake you to your bones when you had to visit the principal’s office in middle school. It also doesn’t help that she’s super attracted to the man sitting behind the door. The golden plaque on the door has three initials: VVD. Desiré takes only a second to take a deep inhale before raising a fist to knock on the door. She’d hate to bring him his coffee a minute later than 9:00.

“Come.”

One word. Gruff. Muffled. Yet it makes something in her belly flip dangerously. Twisting the handle, the door gives way allowing her to enter his office space. It’s spacious with floor to ceiling glass that gives a great view of the bustling city of Chicago. He’s seated behind a large, sleek, black desk with his brows furrowed as he focuses on his laptop screen.

“Good morning, Sir. Um coffee— black, no sugar.”

Desiré doesn’t know why but she feels the need to announce it every single time.

“Good morning, Ms. Thompson, thank you. Appointments?”

Desiré gingerly places the mug against his desk and removes the ipad from beneath her right arm.

“Um, you have a meeting with Mr. Han at 10:15. Then another with Mr. Smith after lunch at 1:30. There’s to be a budget report in the conference room at 3-”

“Reschedule with Mr. Smith. I have to leave the office today at 1.”

Desiré resists the urge to tremble under his gaze. The dark blue suit fits his 6’5, lithe frame so well. He looks straight from an Armani advertisement. His hair is kept in his signature man bun: slick, smooth, curly with not a strand out of place. His caramel skin is smooth and his brows sharp. His eyes though— those intimidating brown eyes always do it for her. He has a way with his stare; Desiré has witnessed grown, powerful men almost cowering beneath his scrutiny.

“Noted sir. Um, anything in particular for lunch today?” She adjusts the thick frames of her clear glasses on her face, trying not to shrink away from his stare.

He eyes her in a way that she can only describe as contemplative. A quick scan of her sharp, shoulder length black bob, to the flowy, floral pattern blouse that’s tucked into her pink work pants and white heels on her feet.

“No. Just get me something light. Also, I need the minutes from the meeting with Mrs. Watkins typed out and emailed to me before the budget meeting today.”

“Yes sir.”

**********

Desiré scowls at the dimly lit laptop screen. She’s almost slamming her fingers against each keypad as she types. Her eyes drift to the bottom corner of the screen again and she grinds her teeth in annoyance seeing the ‘6:54 pm’ staring back at her mockingly. She should’ve been home by now— everyone else left almost two hours ago. The only other people in the building are the custodian that comes in after 6 pm to clean the office and the night shift security guard that seldomly patrols. The budget meeting was a long one; one that her boss kept postponing to accommodate other matters and now he needs the minutes typed up before the end of the day because he’ll be needing them soon. And as always, Desiré is the one who suffers. Don’t get her wrong, she’ll be compensated handsomely, he’s a… reasonable man. He allows her to use the company card to get herself meals when she gets his; he pays well, especially for extra work. But she hates that she has to suffer because he’s so busy. She wants to go home; she should be in bed rewatching Game of Thrones with a warm plate of dinner by now. Instead, she’s still in the office with a lot left to type. Desiré flips through to check the amount of pages she still has left and can’t help but whine. Slouching against the cushioned chair, she throws the papers haphazardly on her desk with a pout on her lips.

“Too much?”

The deep baritone of his voice startles her so badly she gives a shrill little scream. Desiré blinks up at him from beneath her frames in wide-eyed stupor. He doesn’t look amused.

“Erm… I didn’t know you’d be back this evening. It’s not finished yet, I’m sorry. It was a long meeting.” She says breathlessly, heart still racing from his scare and… just him.

“I know it was a long meeting, Ms. Thompson. I was there. I asked if it’s too much.”

“I can handle it.”

Desiré’s heart stutters at the subtle innuendo. She stares up at him shyly to see him cocking a brow.

“I just need a bit more time.” She hurries to add on.

He hums, eyeing her with the kind of intensity that makes her squirm. Her brown skin feels so warm she’s wondering if it’s possible for her to actually blush. He dangles a white, plastic bag in her line of sight.

“I have some things to do before leaving tonight as well. Come finish up in my office, I brought you food.”

Desiré nods almost dumbly before gathering her things and following after him like a lost puppy.

The only sounds that can be heard are the noise from the traffic below and their fingers tapping away at keyboards. There’s a nice spread of dragon and avocado rolls between them that Desiré will pause her work occasionally to indulge in. Virgil hasn’t touched a single one.

She clears her throat quietly. “You should eat too.”

He eyes her from his peripheral vision before replying. “I was just at dinner with business partners, this is for you.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Tense silence stretches on as they work. Desiré feels pathetic for the way her eyes keep drifting in his direction while he continues on like she isn’t even in the room. She can’t help it though. The way his brows almost meet with the small furrow between, the look of pure concentration in his eyes illuminated by the device as he almost glares at it— he’s so fucking attractive it makes her angry sometimes. Desiré watches in horror as her boss unbuttons the jacket of his suit to remove it from his body. He rolls the sleeves of his dark blue button down to his elbows. And tattoos. He has an arm full of them down to his wrist where an expensive, classic watch sits. He keeps his eyes forward all the while, unaware of the turmoil he’s stirring in her hormone riddled body. Break. She needs a break.

Desiré eases her chair back with a bit too much force and almost stumbles in her haste to stand. She becomes even more flustered under his confused gaze.

“Sorry, um… break… my neck.” She emphasizes her point by kneading it.

Desiré stumbles over to the window overlooking the city. Occupied as she was, she didn’t even notice that it was raining. Much lighter than a downpour but heavier than a drizzle. Rhythmic pitter pattering drops dot the now cooled glass as the city bustles beneath. A kaleidoscope of colours reflects into the drops of water that fall steadily from the sky. People are running with briefcases or newspapers above their heads; rain was not forecasted so they make do with what they have. Unsurprisingly, because of the rain, there’s still traffic even though it’s almost 8:30.

“You pout a lot.”

“Are you a freaking ninja or something?” The words tumble out of her frightened mouth before she can stop them. This is the second time he has snuck up on her without her even hearing his footsteps. Him being this big and moving around so lightly is a little unnerving.

“Why are you pouting?”

Desiré eyes his barely visible reflection in the glass in front of her. Seeing the way he towers over her, just a few inches behind, makes her body quiver.

“I… it’s unprofessional, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d see.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Desiré.”

She wrings her hands together anxiously even though her heart skips several beats. He has never called her that before. Only Ms. Thompson.

“It’s just… trying to get home in these conditions is going to be difficult and my neck really does hurt-”

“I asked you earlier if it was too much. Why weren’t you honest with me?”

Gosh she loves his voice so much. Deep and rich like expensive dark chocolate or liquor. She knows he’d sound perfect talking her through-

“I didn’t want to come across as incompetent.” She admits shyly.

“If I thought you were incompetent I would’ve fired you already.” He eyes her in the glass contemplatively before raising his hands to hover by her neck.

“May I?”

Desiré swallows and almost chokes as her mouth suddenly runs dry. ‘He’s about to touch me. Holy shit.’

“Sure.” It’s a breathless whisper shared just between them. Virgil steps closer, heat almost radiating from his body. The first touch of his big, warm, slightly calloused hands on her skin shocks her entire system. She prides herself on keeping her body upright.

“I know I don’t show it, but running a multi million dollar business takes its toll. I’m stressed most days, so I taught myself some massaging techniques because my neck muscles tighten up quite often too.” His gruff voice sounds almost far away in Desiré’s liquefied brain. He starts by making soothing little circles on both sides of her neck. She bites her lower lip hard enough to bleed to keep the moan burning at the back of her throat trapped inside her body. He applies a bit more pressure as his hands trail to the base of her neck.

“You’re really tight.”

She’s too high on pleasure to feel shy about his innuendo. “Uh-huh.”

He audibly sucks in a sharp breath but remains quiet. His fingers dig into a tight knot of muscles causing her to whimper from the slight pain. He tutts while keeping firm pressure to work the muscle. It finally releases under his skillful fingers and Desiré moans at the pleasurable ache before she can stop herself.

“There you go.” His breath ghosts the shell of her ear, making her hyper aware of his sudden proximity. Her pussy pulses between her thighs. Aching. Empty. She needs-

“Feels better?”

“Fuck me.” She accidentally blurts the words out.

The man tenses behind her, hands still on her neck. Desiré doesn’t dare look up at him or even breathe as the seconds tick on. Arousal and humiliation burns her skin. Then, his right hand moves to gently cup the front of neck; he tilts her face toward his to hold her captive with his intense eyes.

“What did you just say?”

Desiré eyes him anxiously. She can’t decipher how he’s feeling. Fuck. ‘You’re going to lose your job because you have no self control.’

“Um… I said… ‘m sorry. I’ll lea-”

“I didn’t ask for an apology and I didn’t ask you to leave. What did you say, Desiré?” His tone is the type he uses in meetings when partners are being difficult or pushy. Firm. Authoritative.

Desiré gulps. “I said… I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes to release a string of curses under his breath. “That’s inappropriate, Desiré.”

But he presses his front to her back so his erection nestles perfectly against her plush behind. She whines, grinding against him without hesitation.

“Then I won’t tell.”

She reaches up to touch her lips to his. Even in heels, she has ways to stretch and he’s not making it easy. Puckering her lips a little, she eyes him desperately. He dips his head downward. Not enough for them to actually kiss, just enough to breathe each other in. Just enough for his soft, warm mouth to whisper against her plump, eager lips.

“Virgil..” she whines petulantly.

He smirks at her pout.

“You’re a brat, aren’t you?”

“M not.” She blinks up at him innocently.

“You are. And that’s okay, baby. I know how to handle brats.”

He presses their lips together and turns her brain into mush. Desiré licks against his lips and waste no time in plunging her tongue in his opened mouth. She licks into it eagerly, lips closing around the pink muscle to suckle on like a piece of candy. Virgil groans, his grip on her neck tightening. Desiré keens softly when he returns the favour. She turns putty in his arms as he starts exploring her pliant mouth with his tongue. He’s so meticulous. Thorough. The slick sounds of their mouths meeting like sultry music. Slithering a hand between them, she subtly moves down to grasp his crotch. Virgil pulls away from her lips to drop his forehead against hers as she gives him a firm squeeze. Desiré marvels at the feel of him— girthy and long. Of course he has an impressive dick. She could tell just by his energy, but finally being able to prove her theory correct makes her head spin.

“I knew it.” It’s an accidental whisper full of awe.

“You’ve been thinking about my dick a lot, Ms. Thompson?”

She’s way past the point of shame or care. “Uh-huh.”

“Still think you can handle it?” He inquires in a serious tone.

Her face would be cherry red if she wasn’t brown.

“Yes.”

“Knew exactly what you were doing. Get on your knees and get me wet, baby.”

She doesn’t have to be told twice. Desiré sinks to her knees, blinking up at him in anticipation from beneath her frames. He brings a thumb to caress the apple of her cheek softly.

“So pretty. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to have you like this? I look forward to seeing you first thing in the morning with my coffee. With your pretty almond eyes behind your glasses and your flustered little face.”

Desiré watches in a daze as he slowly moves to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the buckle jingling seems to reverberate through the office.

“The smell of your powdery, sweet perfume and don’t get me started on that ass… fuck do you have any idea how many times you’ve distracted me in meetings, baby?”

Desiré squeezes her thighs together to alleviate the intense throbbing of her clit. Hearing him speak while watching his deft fingers work to unbutton and unzip his pants is almost overwhelming with how desperately she needs him. His pants pool around his thighs then he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulls it down just far enough for his dick to spring free. Desiré’s tongue is almost lolling out her mouth watching it bob a few centimeters from her face. She takes a few seconds to drink in the sight of him. She’s sure he’s at least eight inches; there’s a sparse patch of hair at the base that leads from his happy trail. It’s a shade or two darker than his light caramel skin with thick prominent veins. Silky. Smooth. Pretty. But so so intimidating just like the rest of him. She gulps. It’s been awhile since she has done this and definitely not with one this big but she’ll be damned if he leaves this experience disappointed. Virgil says nothing. He stands and waits patiently. Desiré shuffles forward on her knees to press her nose against the length of him. His scent is clean but musky— masculine, she’d almost describe it as bitter. Flicking her tongue out, she teases along the vein that runs along the side of his dick. His breath hitches above and it emboldens her. She moves to the other side to do the same while keeping her hands firmly folded in her lap. Closing her mouth around the tip, she suckles against it softly while turning her eyes up at him. His thighs tense and a quiet grunt falls from his slack mouth. A flash of lightning illuminates his face and Desiré moans around him in her mouth. Ecstasy makes his jaw slack, his brows furrowed and colours his eyes with soft disbelief. It’s so fucking hot that Desiré hurries to unzip her pants and stick her fingers down the front. She jerks when she comes in contact with her swollen nub over her slick panties. A bead of sweat trickles down the middle of her back making her hyper aware of the fact that she’s still fully clothed. She wants them off. But she chooses to focus on her task at hand instead. She pulls off him with a quiet pop; Desiré stares up at him and sticks her tongue out of her mouth. He stares in surprise but she doesn’t budge. Virgil puckers his lips and allows spit to dribble from his mouth onto her waiting tongue.

“What the fuck, Desiré?” He moans as if the visual of it physically hurts. She only blinks at him innocently as she rolls his saliva around her tongue before spitting it directly on his dick. Sucking in a deep breath, Desiré steels her spine and gently sinks her mouth forward. Virgil moans above her head as he slides deeper in her mouth, hands falling on the glass behind to brace his body against.

“All of me, baby.”

She whines at his gentle command and keeps going. She pauses when he’s more than half way in to take a couple of deep breaths, fighting against her gag reflex. Tears prick at her eyes and saliva leaks from her stretched mouth but his moans are so euphoric that it spurs her on. On another deep inhale, Desiré sinks all the way down until her nose brushes against his lower belly.

“Fucking hell. My good girl. So fucking good, Desiré.”

She tries to moan but ends up swallowing around him instead. His hips push forward and the sound of him hitting the back of her throat is obscene.

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much.” He instructs gruffly.

Desiré gives him a little nod as best as she’s able to and braces herself for what’s coming next. He pulls back, sliding from the back of her throat then pushes forward.

“Fuck.” It’s a moan from the pit of his belly as she keeps going, fucking into her mouth at a slow pace. Her jaw aches but she’s too turned on to care. Desiré rubs her clit in tight little circles as Virgil uses her mouth for his pleasure. He sinks all the way to the back of her throat and rocks his hips side to side. She gags but stays put.

“Shit, baby.”

He hastily pulls out with a mess of saliva following his trail and he fists at the base of his dick as he takes several deep breaths. Desiré heaves a few heavy breaths; the back of her throat feels wrecked but she would do it all again. Virgil eyes her for a few seconds before cupping her chin in his palm.

“So wrecked and still so pretty hm? Get up and kiss me.”

Desiré stumbles in her haste to stand but he steadies her with a hand around her waist. He ducks his head to lick into her mouth, uncaring that she just had his dick kissing the back of her throat. His hands move to cup her breasts over her top and it makes her whine.

“Off?” Her request is muffled by his insistent mouth but he seems to hear because he starts unbuttoning her blouse. Desiré helps him push the sleeves down her shoulders and he wastes no time in reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. It feels good for her tight nipples to finally be free; it feels even better when his thumb and index fingers gently squeeze them before he begins rolling them around. She goes slack jawed and keen into his mouth.

“Virgil please. I’m ready, please fuck me.” She begs desperately. Her body is coiled tighter than bow strings. She needs him inside her. She needs to come.

“And I haven’t put my mouth on you yet? You eager little thing. Take your pants off, baby.”

Desiré hurries to shimmy out of her pants and panties with stuttering breaths. She kicks her shoes off her feet to kick her clothes off her legs. She’s a lot shorter than him without her three inch heels to help her 5’6 frame. It heightens her desperation tenfold. She stares up at him in anticipation, her thighs damp with evidence of her arousal. He forces her back until her body meets the cool surface of glass. She arches away on instinct at first but slowly presses her back against it as she watches him stoop on his haunches.

“Hah! Please don’t tease.” She begs as he flicks his tongue in her bellybutton. The muscles in her belly quiver against his unhurried mouth as he licks his way down her belly. Lifting her right leg, he places it over his shoulder so she’s spread open right in front of his face. Glistening, warm and beautiful. Virgil rubs his goatee on her sensitive inner thighs, inhaling her potent scent. A hand comes to grip hair but he doesn’t care if she leaves it a mess. He has been wanting to have her like this for months. It’s inappropriate; he’s her boss, he’s in the position of power. So he decided to ignore the desperate need every time she struts in his office in an outfit that hugs her curves just right. And every time she’d stutter in his presence, clearly attracted to him as well. But hearing her beg him desperately to fuck her is something that not even a saint could resist. He doesn’t know what will happen after but consequences be damned when he can finally-

Desiré’s sob echoes around the room as he presses his tongue flat to her swollen clit to give it a languid lick. He hums against her and the vibration makes her double over.

He slaps at her thigh firmly. “Up.”

With a gasp, Desiré hurries to straighten her trembling legs, using the glass behind to support her weight. She wonders belatedly if anyone passing by below will look up to see her naked ass presented to the busiest part of the city.

“Virgil, please.” She tries again. His tongue teasing her clit is only making her more frustrated.

“Patience, baby.” His words are muffled against her wet folds.

“But I want to come.” She says petulantly.

He slithers his tongue expertly down to her entrance. Desiré’s lower body tenses, a helpless moan falling from her lips as he shoves his tongue as far inside as he can reach. His nose presses against her throbbing clit and she can’t help but grind against his face. Virgil can hardly breathe but he doesn’t dare stop. Who needs air when you can hear the pitch of Desiré’s moans growing higher? Who needs oxygen when she starts stringing his name along with gibberish as she begins to shake? Who needs to breathe when you get to witness her crumpling under the force of an orgasm that wracks her entire frame and brings tears to her eyes? Virgil groans as she throbs rhythmically against his tongue, hips undulating without finesse as she rides her high.

“S-so good. Fuck, please please.”

He digs his fingers in the flesh of her thighs to keep her upright. Virgil finally pulls back to suck in a deep breath when her sobs turn to quiet, satisfied sighs. Belatedly, he realizes that his pants are still around his ankles and he feels so ridiculous. He’d laugh if he wasn’t harder than fucking granite. Standing, he pulls his underwear down his legs to kick them off along with his pants.

Desiré eyes his soaked mouth and goatee, belly clenching at the erotic sight. She keeps her eyes locked on his as he kicks his shoes off and moves to unbutton his shirt. But her eyes drift when he’s finally naked. His body is something to behold. His build is athletic, and she wants to roll her eyes in exasperation at him being fucking perfect. Where does he even find the time to work out with running an empire like this? His body is lithe, muscles and abs defined that dips into a narrow waist. He’s majestic, even with his hair a bit unraveled. Desiré’s breath hitches as he stoops to pick her up by her thighs. She dips her head to capture his wet lips in a kiss as he moves with her toward the desk they were just working at. She moans at her taste on his tongue. Heady. There’s a loud clatter and ruffle of papers before her back gently meets the hard surface of his desk.

“Virgil… I’m going to have to sort through all those papers again… and you probably broke the laptop.” She says with a pout.

“Do I look worried about that?” He cocks his brow at her. And no, he doesn’t. He reaches to open one of his drawers on his desk to pull out a condom.

“You keep condoms in your office desk?” She tries to sound nonchalant even though she feels green with jealousy.

“I keep them everywhere. But I haven’t been with anyone else here so stop pouting.” He says with a subtle smirk.

“So why keep them here?”

“All these questions, are you my woman?” He rips the packet between his teeth, keeping his eyes on her face.

“Not yet.” She immediately responds, staring at him with challenge in her eyes even though anxiety buzzes under the surface of her skin.

There’s a look of contemplation on his face while rolling the condom on. “I agree.”

Desiré bites her lip to contain the smile that threatens to stretch her lips a little too widely. She holds her breath feeling him tease along where she’s soaked and pulsing.

“Stop teasing.” She mewls, feeling him bump the head of dick against her clit a few times.

“Next time I’m going to edge you until you cry.”

She barely has time to process his words because he begins pressing against her entrance. Desiré gasps then whimpers as she stretches to accommodate him. Virgil eyes stay locked between them, his mouth slightly agape watching as her body slowly opens up around him. For him.

“Fuck, baby.”

Desiré whines in response to his grumbly moan. She takes him to the hilt, shifting her hips as he touches something deep inside that makes her eyes roll.

“You’re so tight around me and look how wet you are, hm? Can’t wait to fuck you raw.”

Desiré’s toes curl and she moans wantonly. She’s so full of him that it makes her brain scattered.

“Mmmmffhf.”

Virgil gently rests a hand against her lower belly before setting a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking into her deep and slow. Desiré’s head thumps against the table, her eyes squeezing shut as she succumbs to the pleasurable ache of his dick exploring every single crevice inside her.

“Nuh-uh, baby. Eyes open. Watch me fuck you; it’s why I haven’t taken your glasses off.”

She whimpers but lifts her head to obey. Desiré’s eyes lock where they’re joined between them. His hips are fluid and he almost glides through the wet heat of her. It’s so erotic she can only moan at a volume that’s embarrassing.

“Not so loud, baby. We aren’t the only ones here.” He says through hitching breaths.

“But it feels so g-good.”

Virgil tutts and moves to press her knees against her shoulders. “Hold your legs.” He demands.

Desiré grasps her legs, uncaring of the slight protest of some of her sore leg muscles. The position seems to open her up a bit more for her to feel him deeper. She’s about to whine loudly when her mouth is stuffed full of his fingers. She eyes him in surprise for a few seconds before she begins to suckle on his slightly salty digits.

“There you go. That’s my girl.”

Desiré’s eyes roll at the back of her head. His words coupled with how he’s dragging so deliciously against her fluttering walls it’s too much. The familiar starts building in the base of her belly causing her toes to curl.

“I can feel you fluttering around me, baby. Are you going to come for me, pretty?”

Desiré nods at him with wide eyes. He presses harder against her lower belly and fucks into her faster. The added pressure from outside while he stimulates her body from inside makes her suck on his fingers harder to keep the scream bubbling up in her throat at bay. The audible squelching grows even louder as she begins to tremble.

“Shit shit shi-”

Desiré’s sweaty palms slip from her legs as the pressure snaps. She tenses from head to foot as she spasms around him wildly. Tears flow freely from her eyes, her screams muffled by his fingers as the orgasm is wrung from her body. His loud grunt sounds miles away but she feels him fucking into her sloppily, deeper, his grip bordering painful on her flailing legs. She clenches around him, drawing the pleasure out for both of them.

His moan comes from the pit of his belly. “Just like that, baby. Milk me— fucking—” he cuts himself off with a sharp, drawn out groan. The tension headache that he could feel building behind his eyes earlier now a distant memory as his hips stutter. The pleasure makes his limbs weak; he’s even a bit light headed. Fuck. He hastily lifts Desiré off the desk to plop unceremoniously on his chair with her in his lap. He’s still inside. He wishes he could stay inside her forever but overstimulation is beginning to burn his skin, so he slowly pulls out, rubbing a soothing hand up her back as she whines.

“Baby, are you with me?”

She buries her face further into his neck before responding. “Uh-huh.”

Comfortable silence stretches between them as they bask in each other’s presence for a while, sweat cooling on their skin. A flash of lightning illuminates the room reminding him of the weather outside.

“Get dressed, I’ll take you home.” He presses a kiss on her cheek.

“But- but what about the minutes I was typing.” She says around a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it. Email what you’ve typed so far. I’ll have to replace my laptop first thing in the morning.” He says with a weak laugh. Desiré giggles against his neck but doesn’t make a move to stand. He allows it. His body tenses briefly before melting against his seat feeling her soft lips and warm tongue against his neck. She pulls a small patch of skin between her lips and begins to suck. His breath hitches.

“Marking me up like you own me, huh?”

She hums against his neck. He brings a palm down against the swell of her ass. Firm enough to watch it jiggle without causing real pain.

“It’s late. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” She raises her head to admire her work, the bright red spot pretty against his neck. Then she blinks innocently at him. Hair ruffled, face wet with tears and lips swollen, yet still so beautiful.

“May I have the day off tomorrow?”

He chuckles from the pit of his belly. “Sure, baby.”

[izzyezalea]

Hi! So glad people are enjoying my first fic!

Please ask me anything, I'm new to this, so give me ideas and recommendations - I'm happy to write for all call of duty characters - IE 🩷

Three Minutes

Simon “Ghost” Riley x FReader | Bomb Defusal | Lovers in War

The building was silent, save for the creaking of metal and the faint drip of water somewhere in the dark. Every shadow looked like it could lunge. Every corner, a trap. Ghost moved like death itself—silent, fast, focused. The rest of 141 was clearing the perimeter, but he hadn’t waited. Couldn’t.

Not when it was you.

You’d been missing for two days. Two fucking days. Intel finally came through—cartel offshoot, using an abandoned comms station outside Al Mazrah as a makeshift torture den. By the time they stormed it, Ghost was already inside, carving his way through the bastards like a man possessed.

He turned a corner. Stopped cold.

There you were—slumped against a support beam, wrists zip-tied, blood dried along your temple. Eyes wide, dazed—but alive.

Alive.

And strapped to your chest was a bomb.

His heart kicked into overdrive. He didn’t even breathe.

“Love?” His voice was low, strained. “It’s me.”

Your head lifted slowly. “Simon…”

And God, that voice—hoarse, broken—but real.

He rushed to you, dropped to his knees. “Stay still, yeah? Don’t move.”

You nodded weakly. “They said... three minutes. When they left. Dunno how long it’s been.”

He didn’t waste time asking stupid questions. He was already examining the vest, fingers nimble despite the tremor in them. Wires. Timer. 01:54 and counting.

Bloody hell.

“Alright,” he muttered, pulling a small toolkit from his belt. “This ain’t gonna be fun, but I’ve got you.”

“You sure?” you whispered.

He paused. Met your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Your breathing hitched. You tried to stay calm, but the fear was thick in the air, mingling with dust and sweat and blood.

“I don’t wanna die like this,” you choked out.

“You won’t,” he said, sharp, certain. “You’re not dyin’. Not today. Not ever if I can bloody help it.”

He worked fast, eyes scanning the circuit, isolating wires, tracing them back. It was an old rig, Russian-made. Bastards were getting creative. But Ghost had defused worse.

The timer blinked: 01:12.

“Talk to me,” he said suddenly, voice tight. “Keep your mind off it.”

You tried. “Been a year now, yeah?”

“Year and three weeks,” he replied, snipping one wire. Timer kept ticking.

“Thought maybe we’d make it to two.”

“We will. You promised me pizza and a film night back home.”

You gave a weak smile. “With those stupid action flicks you pretend not to like?”

“Oi, I’m partial to a bit of Fast & Furious. No judgin’.”

Timer: 00:42.

He was almost there. Just two more connections.

“You ever think about leavin’?” you asked, barely audible.

He froze for a fraction of a second. Then: “All the time. With you.”

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter. Somewhere quiet. Maybe a little place with a garden. You like those. Maybe a dog.”

You blinked hard. “You want a dog?”

“I want you. Whatever comes with that, I’ll take.”

00:25.

His hands moved faster. The sweat on his brow mixed with soot. He could hear boots above—Soap and Price clearing rooms. But it was just him and you in this moment.

You were trembling. “Simon… I’m scared.”

His hand found yours. Gripped tight. “Me too. But I need you to be brave for just a bit longer.”

00:15.

He found the trigger wire. Two options—cut the wrong one, and you’re gone. He stared at it. Everything in him screamed to act fast, but instinct told him to go steady.

You were watching him, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” you said, voice shaking. “Don’t let them take me away from you.”

His jaw clenched. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

00:08.

He cut the wire.

The timer stopped.

Silence.

Just for a second, the world paused.

Then Ghost exhaled—shaky, half-choked—and pulled the vest off you, tossing it aside like it’d burned him. He was on his knees again, tugging at your zip ties with trembling fingers.

You collapsed into his arms as soon as they snapped.

“Got you,” he muttered into your hair, holding you like you might vanish. “You’re alright now. I’ve got you.”

You sobbed once—quiet, raw—and buried your face into his chest.

He held you through it. His mask was soaked from sweat and soot, but he didn’t care. Didn’t even notice.

Footsteps pounded behind him. Soap appeared in the doorway, rifle raised.

“Ghost—bloody hell, you found her.”

“She’s safe,” Ghost said, not turning. “I’ve got her.”

Soap nodded, gave you both a look of quiet relief, then turned to cover the hallway.

When you finally pulled back, your fingers brushed the edge of Ghost’s mask. You tapped it gently.

“Can I see you?”

He hesitated.

Then, without a word, he pulled it up—just enough to show his face. Just for you.

Bruised, tired, dirt-smudged—but yours.

You touched his jaw, thumb brushing that old scar.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He kissed you. No hesitation. No fear.

Just need.

When he pulled back, he said it too—quiet, rough, like it cost him.

“I love you more than this bloody world deserves.”

Outside, the evac was arriving. Price’s voice crackled in the comms, orders snapping out.

But in that abandoned building, amid broken walls and ghosts of violence, all that mattered was that you were breathing, together.

Alive.

[ryanisasleep]

MISC SMUT PROMPTS

Credits to @airaibunny for this list. Pls tell me if I should take it down or not as I didn't see anywhere if you were comfortable with this <3.

So, as I stated before, I need to know if I am up to continue writing smut. Once finished Sweet Dawn, I'll focus on these. If you want to request something, go ahead as these inspired me ngl.

I'll try to write (for the first time) for a threesome :)

1. “no underwear? did you plan this?”

2. “are you just going to watch?”

3. "but the cameras" - "they can't see us from this angle, if you can stay still"

4. "you're such a needy boy"

5. “you just keep doing what you're doing”

6. "you're fucking soaked"

7. “you make me so wet”

8. “can i ask you for something?”

9. “please don’t think i’m weird for this…”

10. “Does that turn you on?”

11. "i need your fingers"

12. “say/do it like you mean it”

13. “scream my name while you cum”

14. "Why don't you make it up to me?"

15. “touch yourself, I want to watch”

16. “on your knees”

17. “turn around”

18. "Bend over"

19. “spread your legs”

20. “open wider”

21. “sit on my thigh/face/etc”

22. "lift your leg"

23. “i’m bored, let’s play”

24. “i can see you staring at my tits/thigh/ass”

25. "harder"

26. “it’s my turn now”

27. “i didn't mean to call you that, i'm sorry” - “no! don't apologize, i liked it…”

28. "spank me"

29. "choke me"

30. "bite me"

31. “you can practice on me”

32. “this is a one time thing”

33. “i thought you said it was a one time thing?”

34. “we can’t do this”

35. “i ordered us something”

36. “that looks too big”

37. “you bought a vibrator?”

38. "sit here"

39. “while standing?”

40. “give me your hand”

41. “i'm/it's all over your chin”

42. “do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

43. "Why are you being so shy? it's not like i haven't already seen all of you"

44. “you’re so spoiled”

45. “Can we use a toy?”

46. ​​“can i use a toy on you?”

47. “just like that”

48. “Nobody can know about this, okay?”

49. “How are you so close already?”

50. “i can see how wet you are through your shorts”

51. “Can you be quick?”

52. “please, i’ll finish fast”

53. “use your mouth”

54. “Why do you get so shy when I use that word?”

55. “where do you want me to touch you?” - “down there…” - “you have to say the word”

56. “on the counter/table/etc?”

57. “have you seen the things the fans write about you and *other celeb*?”

58. “pull my hair”

59. "open your mouth"

60. “you're such a messy girl”

61. "take off your underwear" - "but, there's other people here" - "they won't see you, there's an entire table here"

62. "open your eyes"

63. “look at me while you cum”

64. “do you want me to use my fingers/mouth?”

65. “do you want to join me?”

66. “How bad do you want it?”

67. "it's too late for this" - "you don't have to do anything, just stay laying down"

68. “can you stay quiet if i take this call?”

69. “we could get kicked out for this”

70. “don’t make me say it, you know what I want”

71. "you're so annoying" - "would i still be annoying eating you out?"

72. “put your leg over my shoulder”

73. “there’s no one else here, be louder”

74. “i'm going to fuck you against the windows, i want everyone to see how good you are for me”

75. “stop being gentle”

76. “you can’t leave marks”

77. “we are not doing this standing, there’s a bed right there”

78. “do you like it when i spank you?”

79. “use my thigh”

80. “if you hate me so much, why are you letting me do this?”

81. “you're really telling me to stop while both of your hands are in my shirt?”

82. "I still hate you"

83. “this is just sex, no strings”

84. "fuck you" - "well, that's what we're doing isn't it?"

85. "You can take it like a good girl, right?"

86. “that was a nice way to wake up”

87. "how about we give them something to talk about?"

88. "dressing room, now"

89. "you/we need to be on stage in 15 minutes" ... "i don't care"

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Could I request a Principal Larissa Weems or Lesso? with 52,54,59? Maybe with her assistant? Maybe with some smut🫣. I was thinking that they would be cold to the reader bc they like them and then the reader says something like why do you hate me and then it leads from there.. but do what you feel most comfortable with!!! ( Also I love your writings they are so good and you are so talented<3)

Quivering at Your Touch ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem Mommy!Younger(20s)!Assistant!Reader (feat. Morticia Addams)

Summary— Sub!Larissa fic where Reader is Larissa’s assistant at Nevermore and they don’t really get along because Larissa is just cold to Reader all the time. But when Reader confronts Larissa, Reader finds that the tall blonde principal is a desperate sub who just wants to be a good girl for her mami… Anon Response— Hello anon!! You can absolutely request this! I would love to write this for you. I admit, I got a little carried away… Enjoy♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy/Daddy if you want too…”

#59. “You… find this attractive?”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little fluff, eating out (oral sex), fingering, age gap (all legal), clit stimulation, grinding, humping, squirting, voice kink, sexy Spanish— I am not fluent so I apologize in advance for any mistakes, mami(mommy) kink, desperation, teasing, praising, light begging, light taunting, implied light overstimulation, implied Morissa, Morticia Addams, comforting, physical comforting, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You walked into Ms. Weems’ office before the sun had even come up, handing over the paperwork that she had sent you home with last night. Being Ms. Weems’ assistant was your dream job. But it was not easy. The tall, blonde principal had high standards for herself and everyone else, especially her assistant.

After her near death experience, Morticia had convinced Larissa to hire an assistant, because according to the raven haired goddess, “You cannot carry the weight of the world, neigh Nevermore, on your shoulders alone, Mon Chérie…” Morticia had cooed late one summer night into the blonde’s exposed ear.

So, Larissa had began looking and interviewing two weeks before the new school year started. She had put out the news that she was interested in hiring an assistant, and soon the woman had resumes to look through. It had been almost two weeks and Larissa hadn’t found anyone suitable, when you had walked through the door of her office.

Larissa took an immediate liking to you. You were intelligent, organized, well-dressed and well mannered. After a mere twenty minutes, the tall blonde was offering you the job. You had eagerly accepted and moved into Nevermore at once. And the new school year started with a quick bang. And just as quickly, your work began.

“Here is your schedule for the week and those quarterly reports for this semester that you requested, Ms. Weems.” You spoke in a professional and formal manner, as always and as expected, as you handed the blonde principal the files.

Larissa looked up from her computer, reaching out and taking the files.

“Thank you, Miss L/N.” Larissa hummed, then standing up and going over to her cabinets of files, “One thing before you leave…”

You knew that Principal Weems was on first names basis’ with most of the staff, as far as the tall principal using pet names for some of your colleagues. The fact that after over nine weeks of working for this woman that she never wavered from Miss L/N, and she always expected Ms. Weems or Principal Weems made you sad. You knew it shouldn’t, she was your boss after all. But it did.

“Yes?” You asked, raising your head in her direction as she moved across the room.

Larissa paused to look through the many files, before pulling one out and coming back around her desk and up to you. She handed you the file, looking at you expectantly.

“Parent Teacher Conferenecs are coming up throughout the week, I need these typed up and reviewed before the end of today.” Larissa instructed you in her professionally cold tone, the tone that she only used for formal principal meeting, events and for you.

You nodded, taking the file, and looking away to blush at the intense eye contact.

“Yes Ms. Weems…” you spoke out, “Is there anything else…?”

Larissa went back to sit at her desk chair, then looking back at you with a stoic face.

“That will be all, Miss Y/N.” The blonde principal calmly stated, “You are excused until my first parent teacher conference, where I will be expecting you to take notes.”

You nodded and murmured, “Yes ma’am…”, before shuffling out of her office and going back to sit back in your tiny assistant area, designated to you by Ms. Weems.

You sat down with a deep sigh, Larissa’s tone internally eating away at you. You hated how cold she always was… You didn’t think you’d ever down anything to her. But you must have. Because the warm, caring, tall Principal that you saw interacting with students and her staff was a shallow, cold bitch to you when you were alone.

For the rest of the day, you made sure to attend all of the woman’s meetings, taking diligent notes and remaining silent, as she would glare at you if you said a word. By the end of the day, you were tired and still had some of the papers for the conferences to finish. You worked until you had completed all of the work Ms. Weems had given you. You walked into Ms. Weems’ office, it was way past time for you to be off for the day, but alas.

“Ms. Weems?” You called, knocking and then opening the door, only to enter when she permitted you.

“Come in…” Larissa hummed, not even taking the moment to meet your gaze in curteous recognition.

You closed the door behind you, before taking a deep breath.

“Here are the conference files you asked me to fill out, along with my notes from today’s meetings…” You spoke, waking up to her desk and handing over the files.

Larissa continued working.

“Leave them here, Miss L/N…” the woman coolly spoke out, “You are excused for tonight. I will see you early tomorrow.”

A wave of frustration came over you, as you left the papers and turned to leave. You felt your eyes begin to water, as her hurtful treatment seemed to finally hit a nerve. Something about today, and maybe all the other times, made you turn swiftly on your heel, back towards the woman.

“Ms. Weems…?” You choked out, your voice faltering.

The woman hummed lightly, letting you know that she heard you, but not giving you the time of day for any eye contact or actual words.

“I…” you walked back to her desk, “Why do you hate me…? Have I… done something…? Is… my work not up to your standard…?” You stammered, your voice breaking throughout your sentences.

At your words, Larissa stopped typing on her computer. She then very slowly raised her head and her intense gaze finally met yours. She then closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with a deep sigh.

“No Darling, your work is impeccable…” Larissa sighed.

The petname sent warm shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. And at hearing her compliment, a faint blush immediately began to creep up around your cheeks. You were able to take a little sigh of relief at her words, but an underlying pit in your stomache still tugged at you nonetheless.

“Oh—Ok. Then… why do you treat me like…” you stammered, struggling on how to express your feelings without offending your boss.

“Cold? Abrasive? Harsh?” Larissa scoffed at herself, finishing your thought far more direct than you would have ever admitted to.

Your blush deepened and you nodded slowly.

“Yes” you softly stated.

“Because…” Larissa sighed, clasping her hands together and biting her lip before continuing, “I don’t hate you, Darling… Far from it.”

You knew you could hear Larissa’s words, but they didn’t seem to register, as your face was still plastered with confusion and broken spirit.

Larissa’s expression slowly softened at the sight of yours. She then proceeded to stand up, coming over to the other side of her desk, the one closest to you. She indicated for you to sit on the couch by the fire. As she walked to the burning fireplace next to the couch, you scurried to take a seat, then looking up at the woman, whose face was now a myriad of emotions.

“Y/N… You…” Larissa began softly and with the most vulnerable tone you’d ever heard from the formal woman, “You are the most marvelous woman—person, that I’ve ever encountered…”

She paused to take another deep sigh before continuing, “You are brilliant at your job, I have never had anyone do their job as well as you do yours, the passion and effort you put into your work is unmatched. From the very first time I met you, I knew there was something about you. Your personality, your heart is so warm and you are so caring…”

Your eyes widened the more the woman confessed, and your lips parted slightly in shock. You wondered if this was a dream… Where you hearing the woman correctly…?

But when Larissa leaned forward and grasped your hands in hers, you knew this was no dream. Her sapphire gaze bore into yours intensely, and her eyes radiated truth. You gasped lightly at the touch, and found yourself immediately yearning for more. But her gaze and face then turned sad. And in the at moment, you would have some anything to make the tall blonde smile.

“I… I apologize for the way I treated you… I thought… I thought that if I kept you at a distance that I wouldn’t get hurt… But I see now that my actions, while protecting me, ended up hurting you… and that was never my intention, Darling. For that I am truly sorry…”

She squeezed your hands reassuringly, as her remorseful gaze met yours. The realization of the woman’s words started to creep into your mind. A rogue tear managed to slip past your watch, rolling down your cheek. Larissa’s heart nearly broke them and there, having to watch you process your past few months of agony.

“Protect yourself from what…?” You whispered, as you met her gaze once more.

At your question, Larissa looked away and a light rosy blush flushed her cheeks. She sighed once more and then began to chuckle lightly at herself.

“Protect myself from my feelings…” Larissa admitted, biting her lip anxiously, “And now that I think about it, it seems so absurd.”

These words were the final piece of the puzzle that you had spent months searching for. Suddenly, all the pieces came into place, it all made sense. And a wave of calm seemed to flow over you.

Without thought, instinct had you raise your hand and cup the woman’s flushed cheek. Her head immediately swiveled back toward you, her eyes widened at your bold move. But she didn’t pull away, quite the opposite in fact, you found that the woman only leaned into your touch, closing her eyes and letting out a hum in contentment.

“Larissa Weems, are you saying that you like me?” You softly asked, with a little smile and a light twinkle in your eyes.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open and at first, her face was panicked, but once she saw the calm expression on your face, she seemed to relax a little.

“I… I suppose so…” Larissa whispered, her face radiating raw vulnerability.

You smiled even brighter, caressing the woman’s cheek with one hand, as her hands held your other one. The tall blonde then fell gracefully to her knees, now sitting right in between your legs and right up against your couch. And she looked up at you, searching for some, any direction.

“I like you too…” you whispered back.

Larissa entire body seemed to be needing to hear those words, because as soon as they left your mouth, a weight was lifted from the blonde’s soul. And before you knew it, the woman was curling up in your lap. Your jaw threatened to drop, but you restrained yourself. Never in your life had you expected the cold, formal Principal Weems to be in your lap and purring like a content cat.

You gently reached out to her, running your fingers along her tight back hair. She raised her head into your hand with another hum, encouraging you. So you began to take out the pins of the woman’s hair, one by one, until her curls were falling onto your lap and you could run your fingers through her hair freely. The entire time, Larissa was snuggled up in your lap, purring in delight.

You chuckled to yourself, wondering what it would be like if someone walked in… but that thought quickly slipped away, as the ambience of the moment took over your mind. The fireplace crackling and giving a soft glow to the room, seemed to make it all feel more intimate. Not to mention Larissa being literally in your lap, also made it far more intimate..

Time passed naturally, as the woman continued to purr in your lap and you continued to run fingers through her hair, eventually moving to massage her tense shoulders. The blonde let out little whimpers and groans every now and then, which you found to be utterly adorable.

Larissa began adjusting her position for you, so that you could scratch and massage all the itches and tensions littered around her stressed out body. The woman ended up straddling your lap, her head tucked into the crook of your neck as you massaged a particular knot from her upper spine.

She let out a groan as you kneeded the knot out of her tense muscle, inadvertently bucking her hips into your lap and releasing a particularly breathy whimper along with it. Larissa’s mouth opened and her eyes widened in light shock at her overtly sexual actions.

Your eyes sparkled at the shift in tone of the scene, your hands traveling to the woman’s hips, starting to guide her hips to lightly grind against your form beneath her. Larissa’s hands shot to your shoulders as she arched her back and rolled her head back with another groan, this one most definitely sexual. Her eyes fluttered shut as you helped her get off against your frame.

“That’s it… Let me help you relax, Ms. Weems…” you cooed lovingly, eagerly drinking in the other woman’s frame.

“L-Larissa please Darling…” Larissa insisted with another breathy groan, as she continued to grind down against your lap.

You chuckled lightly and nodded.

“Alright Larissa…” you teased her name on your tongue, making the woman melt into a puddle in your lap.

You slowly shifted her frame onto one of your thighs, so that she could grind her core against your tensed thigh more effectively. The blonde was quick to catch on, letting her dress rile up her thighs as she began to put her grinding weight against your tensed muscles.

Larissa let out a mutter of expletives, words that you never would have thought to come out of such a proper woman’s lips. But it felt so right in the moment as the blonde was holding onto you for dear life, as she rutted against your thigh. You could feel the warmth of her pussy on your thigh, as you tightly held her hips and guided her further towards her impending climax.

Breathy whimpers and groans spewed from Larissa’s lips, her eyes were screwed shut tight, all of her previous inhibitions lost, as she unabashedly got herself closer and closer to her high. When she was teetering on the edge, you gripped her hips tighter, keeping her sloppy grinding in a rhythm and your lips snuck to the shell of her ear.

“Cum for me, Larissa… Te ves tan hermosa así… Let go, let it all out.”[You look so beautiful like that…] You purred into the blonde’s ear.

It only took a couple more grinding motions before the woman was coming undone on top of you. Letting out a strangled moan, she rode her high as best as she could before collapsing on top of your chest with heavy panting.

“Eres una chica muy buena, Larissa…”[You’re such a good girl, Larissa…] you praised the blonde.

Larissa couldn’t help but blush, she could recognize praise, even when it wasn’t in English. You let her gather her self in your lap, and the minutes past in comfortable silence. Eventually, Larissa stirred, sitting up once more and meeting your gaze.

“You’re sexy when you speak Spanish…” she breathed out, before her eyes went wide and she instantly began to correct her statement, “What I meant…! You’re always sexy— no I…!”

You hushed Larissa by leaning into her and connecting your lips swiftly with hers. Larissa immediately leaned in, impossibly close to you, her hands coming to cup your cheeks, pulling you even closer. You hummed into the passionate kiss, which seemed to be reigniting Larissa’s lust once more. Not to mention your own…

“You… find this, my Spanish… attractive?” You breathlessly whispered into her lips.

Larissa eagerly nodded before smashing her lips back into yours, and you practically purred in delight. Your lips and teeth began to clash together as hour respective hungers grew. Larissa happily allowed you to slip your tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss even further. Pretty soon, the woman was encouraging you to pick her up, which you eagerly did, carrying her to her attached private quarters.

“Eres tan hermosa, mi amor. Quiero mostrarte lo guapa que eres...”[You are so beautiful, my love. I want to show you just how gorgeous you are…] you whispered against her hungry lips, as you devoured one another.

Larissa bucked her hips against your frame and spewed a string of breathy whimpers as a result of your Spanish. You placed Larissa on the center of the bed as your mouth began to wander past the woman’s lips and towards her neck and shoulders… Larissa gasped as you sucked on her pressure point, her hands scrambling to pull you even closer, tugging you onto the bed with her.

Soon, hands were flying to zippers and buttons, as the two of you practically tore each other’s clothes off in the heat and passion of the moment. The blonde’s dress pooled at her feet as you unbuttoned your pants, both being thrown aside, along with your shirt. Your nimble fingers unclipped both her bra and your own, both of which were also tossed aside.

Now left in nothing but your knickers, you guided the woman to lay back on the bed, propping herself up by her elbows. You crawled on top of Larissa, perching yourself to straddle her stomache before connecting your lips together once more. The blonde let out a whimper into your lips, as her hands dropped her fully on the bed and shot to your exposed skin, wandering and feeling their way down your body. Her fingers stopped and paid special attention to your sensitive buds.

“Dios mío, vas a ser mi muerte...”[My God, you’re going to be the death of me…] you breathed out into her lips, her teasing causing you to buck your hips against the blonde’s form.

Another whimper erupted from Larissa’s throat in response, desperate for more friction. You pressed your lips once more time against her plump red ones, a mere ghost of a kiss, before starting to slowly run down her body, paying special attention to each bit of exposed skin that the woman had to offer. Larissa’s one hand shifted to your head, eagerly attempting to push you further down, down to where she needed you most. Her other hand wandered up to her own nipple, teasing and tugging to deepen her own pleasure. When you showed no signs of speeding up your worshiping of the woman’s body, Larissa began to beg,

“Darling P-please… I need you… need you so bad… need it… give it to me—” Larissa chocked out in a mewl.

Your mouth was attached to her left nipple as she spoke, arching her back into your touch. You let go of her tit with a pop!, and then smiled before shimmying your body further down her frame. Lowering your face down to her clothed, needy cunt, you licked a stripe along her underwear, right above her core. Larissa’s knees buckled and her hips jerked upwards, towards your face.

“¿Es esto lo que quieres? Te ves tan bien, cariño…”[Is this what you want? You look so good, my darling] you purred, fanning your hot breath onto her quivering pussy.

You were quick to hold her shaking thighs down, so that she didn’t accidentally suffocate or hit you from her impending intense pleasure. Larissa struggled a little against your firm hold, but as your grip tightened on her thighs, she quickly became even more desperate in her pleading.

“Christ Y/N Please!! Stop teasing and just… just fuck mami please!” Larissa cried out, desperately bucking her hips to encourage any kind of friction with the throbbing heat.

Her face flushed and all her motions came to a halt at the name just uttered from her lips, and the blonde began to stamer.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… Darling it, slipped out…? I—”

With a chuckle, you hooked your fingers along the waistband of her knickers. Tapping her hips, the woman couldn’t meet your gaze from the embarrassment but nonetheless she instinctually raised her hips and thighs for you. You then pulled off her last garment, throwing it into the abyss. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of Larissa’s glistening cunt. You looked up and met the blonde’s goddess figure and then her lustful, hooded gaze. She nodded in desperation, encouraging you to take her.

With one final teasing, hot breath to the woman’s cunt, you finally gave in and began lapping your tongue through her folds. Her back arched deliciously into your hot touch, her fingers curling in your hair and into the bed sheet. As your tongue flicked her clit, the woman’s head lolled back and her eyes fluttered shut, completely forgetting her verbal slip up for the moment.

“Oh yessss… Yes yes yes…!” She chanted, her mind swimming in overwhelming pleasure.

You swiftly pulled away however, making Larissa’s head shoot up and give you the most needy pout and whimper.

“You can call me Mami if you want too…” you purred wickedly, before swirling two fingers in her wetness and then sliding the digits into her core.

Larissa let out an unbridled groan, her fingers digging into your scalp as her walls fluttered around your fingers. You fucked the woman at a decent pace, pumping and curling your fingers inside her core, paying close attention to what motions made her toes curl especially. Her eyes fluttered closed. Larissa was huffing and whimpering more and more, and soon the sounds turned into full on moans.

“Eyes on me, hermosa…” you lustfully purred, drawing the blondes hooded gaze back to yours.

“Y-yes mami—” Larissa choked out.

Her blown out pupils met your sultry gaze. Her face flushed at the intense eye contact. She held your head in a vice grip as your fingers thrusted inside her expertly and your mouth latched onto her aching clit. Larissa’s back arched desperately in your touch, and one of your hands moved up from her thighs to tease her perked, straining buds.

It didn’t take long for the blonde to be teetering on the edge again…

“Mami mamiiiii…!!” Larissa babbled, shaking her head violently and fighting the urge to screw her eyes shut tight and scream,

“AhgghhhhHhH GOD pleaseeee—!!!” She cried out, her hips thrashing and body spasming.

“Vamos, vamos... Cum for me… lo tienes, mi dulce chica…”[Come on, come on…You’ve got it, my sweet girl…] you purred gently, curling your fingers with huge words to perfectly hit that spongey spot inside the woman’s core.

Larissa’s breath faltered and suddenly her orgasm was washing over her, her juices gushing out of her and onto your fingers as her walls clenched around your fingers. Your tongue eagerly lapped up all the woman’s arousal, practically keening over at her taste. Then with sudden force, the woman’s core squirted all over your fingers and face. You moaned in delight, eagerly taking all that Larissa would give you.

She was so wrapped up in her orgasm, Larissa hadn’t even registered that she had squirted. But even as she came down from her high, the older woman still seemed to be not fully satisfied. She was squirming in pleasure, in need for more, babbling and begging for it…

“Mami mami—por favor, necesito más, necesito más…!!”[Mommy mommy—please, I need more, I need more…] Larissa pleaded with a desperate cry, her hips bucking against your face is desperation.

You nearly moaned into the woman’s cunt at her pleading, her tone, her words, her voice… You couldn’t deny the fact that even broken Spanish sounded sexy on her tongue… It made you shiver with anticipation. With one last lick to her cunt to rock her back from her orgasm, you pulled out of her cunt. Larissa immediately whimpered at the loss of feeling.

“Vale, vale, te escucho, dulce chica… Tell me what you want, bueno chica… Use your words for me…”[Ok ok, I hear you, sweet girl… good girl…] you cooed.

The following sweet babbles that flowed out of the submissive blonde’s mouth were like music to your ears. And you were more than happy to grant any request this woman made of you. Hell, with a simple please from her lips, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for that woman…

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[hunter470]

My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply. 

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen. 

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want. 

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said. 

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending. 

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last. 

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong. 

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time. 

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job. 

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess. 

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

[myrmica]

some loose thoughts on The Full Story of WORMHOLE: Minecraft’s Deadliest Exploit...

largely building on thoughts i had while watching it with my partner, and conversations i had on discord (shoutout will 75hearts irrealisms). i started writing notes in the s4 directory and it got away from me so it's a post now. disclaimer also that while i am very critical here, i still found the video interesting. the problems with it are interesting problems. second disclaimer that everything is about vitalasy (and princezam) forever.

the video is presented as The Full Story, the Truth, things spoke didn’t want to show during season 4 or in the videos he released about it then, because it would make him look too bad. he says this about it in a youtube comment, before it's released:

the first hour or so of this video succeeds incredibly in being what he says it’s going to be; you get information we’ve never heard before about the dupe war and spoke’s thought processes therein. you get this, the best moment of the entire video:

[51:00 - 54:40] Spoke: I'm not kidding when I say this, but this was probably the angriest I've ever been while playing minecraft. Not only was I so dumbfounded that I really just sat there popping totems, but after I died I was dead silent for 15 minutes. Except for the few times I practiced the lies I would have to tell Mapicc and Zam, to somehow save this plan. [Video cuts to that recording of Spoke talking to himself after he respawns. He wanders around the post-dupe-war wasteland, no items in his inventory.] Spoke: What was the thought process? [cut] I just wanna ask, what—[cut] I'm really curious… about the thought process of this one. [cut] Come here for a second—[cut] So here's the first issue. [cut] Here's the problem I see with this thinking. [cut] I thought you were very well aware of the intentions. [cut] there's a difference between... and prolonging—[cut]—I need to keep going with the plan. I want to get back to the vault. [cut back to voiceover] Spoke: I needed a way to somehow gain their trust back and keep the vault safe, so I wouldn't be banned. At first I thought about telling them my plan to trick Parrot into doing the exploit, but I already had too much on the line to risk something like that. The second idea was telling them the lie I told Parrot, about doing this for the NPPP, but that would just confirm their beliefs and they would for sure pocket the duped items. The only idea I had left was to tell them... I scripted this. A couple months before these events, I ran a staged roleplay server called Unstable, and I would invite these guys on for the scripted recordings. So I already had that stigma with me, and I assumed if I just told them I was helping the enemy find the vault for content, that I learned my lesson or something, they would forgive me and let me back. I knew from there I just had to go on with the plan in a different way, so I joined a call with them. But I didn't realize how bad I truly messed up. [cut to that call] Spoke: So what's the plan? Mapicc: Spoke, you—[exhales]—you've given us so many reasons not to trust you. Spoke: Which is? Mapicc: You speak ominously, you have a bad record, you're—you were in contact with Parrot the entire time. Vortex called me and said there are at least three or four double agents that are on Team Awesome right now, that are actually on Parrot's side. Spoke: Christ. You guys—okay, okay, i'm just gonna be completely clean, bro. Parrot's a double agent on APO. Parrot is an obvious double agent on APO. But he's not a double agent in content, guys. He's a double agent to make the story better. I literally have not told them the base coords to make this more interesting. Mapicc: The base is gone, Spoke. Spoke: YOU BLEW IT UP? Mapicc: we took— Spoke: WHAT THE--WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Mapicc: We took a ridiculous amount of money and we're hiding far away, Spoke. Spoke: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHY. [cut to narration] Spoke: There was literally no point in me continuing this lie, since the vault was confirmed to be gone. But, what you're about to see is what no content creator should do on any SMP. And despite me using quote-unquote content and entertainment against them to get my way, all I really did was ruin their videos.

my whole point in the barrier blocks essay about season 4 was that lifesteal’s storytelling is competitive. and it is something weaponized on screen in season 4 plenty of times, but it’s never so blatant as this. It’s never admitted like this. Spoke outright saying, “i fucked everyone else over so i could get my video.” I never considered that the scripting thing might be a flat out lie like this. even though i knew spoke was ultimately doing all of that as part of the plan to get parrot in position for wormhole, and even though i came to the conclusion that dupe war couldn’t really have been “scripted” in a way that mattered even without knowing that spoke was lying about this, because WHY would you LIE ABOUT THIS?

It’s kind of beautiful. the perfect piece of information about season 4 to tie it all up in a bow.

and it’s incredible for being this albeit brief, raw glimpse into spoke’s mind. a completely off camera moment that nobody ever would have seen. something you never, ever get from spoke, who rarely streams, and refuses to let other players see inside of his head, or even have real conversations with him in season 4. whose power is predicated on maintaining that exact distance. because it all falls apart if you get to hear how he feels underneath it all, if you get to see the way everything he does in season 4 is nothing but madly improvising lie after lie, trying to keep the tower he’s built intact even as it is constantly at risk of falling out from under him. It’s spoke making himself for once truly vulnerable, truly seen.

but… AFTER this point, the video largely loses this undercurrent of emotional vulnerability that sells the whole thing’s premise. It doesn’t matter if spoke is lying about minutiae in that first part of the video, fudging dates and summarizing events, because the emotional honesty matters so much more. but a lot of the threads spoke presents to us in the beginning of the video never feel like they actually get delivered on, and this window into his mind is closed to us again. It feels like he falls back into the motions of just, making a lifesteal video, making a minecraft youtube video. this moment with the dupe war feels like something legitimately special and unique, precisely because of that element of vulnerability. It’s probably the closest a lifesteal video has ever come to capturing the parts of lifesteal that i love, the things you only really get on stream where it’s much harder to keep up the sort of powerplays spoke relies on.

unfortunately you are hardwired to make youtube videos and there is no saving you. I would wager there are two full hours of reused footage that adds basically nothing. and it’s the worst deflationary effect i’ve ever seen. the tension builds to this crazy height and then it’s just gone and you’re watching, dr. donut vip day. poopies the endermite nonsense. nothing against poopies the endermite nonsense, but you show me all of that and then you expect me to watch you fuck around with minecraft mobs for 40 minutes straight?

and just as a side note, it’s edited in the most confusing way possible. i think this was heightened for me because i watched it with my partner who isn’t quite as into lifesteal as i am, but this video is comprised of: 1) brand new footage and new voiceovers by spoke explaining his current feelings/reflections on what happened then, 2) old stream footage, and 3) footage from old videos that spoke previously uploaded, including the editing choices from those old videos. none of these things are ever flagged or indicated to the viewer, you have no real way of knowing which is which unless you’ve seen all of those old streams and videos. and this carries over into the way spoke presents information to you, because it’s still largely done in the rapid-fire information summary, telling instead of showing style that plagues these videos. i don’t know how you are expected to absorb any information from this narration style if you don’t already know the minute details of everything that happened in season 4. which i do, so it was fine, just stylistically puzzling on several levels.

which brings us to…. an elephant in the room. the thing left out of what is billed as the full truth. vitalasy is not part of this video. spoke’s relationship with the other exploiters at large is never really dwelled on or explored, even when ash does appear on screen relatively frequently, but there is not a single clip of vitalasy speaking in this video. we get a couple screenshots of his discord messages, only on screen for seconds, a few of which appear to be dated from a different day than spoke says they are. he’s mentioned about as infrequently as you could possibly manage to discuss season 4, let alone wormhole, without vitalasy. who we know spoke was working with in some capacity throughout the full duration of these events, who appears both in the beginning of this video as spoke establishes where the exploit came from, and in the end, when spoke jumps into the void and ops vitalasy in the same moment.

there are all of these scenes where the bedrock prison is there but never explained, or someone (parrot in one of the last pivotal conversations spoke has with him in the video) is holding an eclipse shield, and it all makes him so overwhelmingly present in his absence. spoke seems to realize how glaring it feels, because he addresses it:

[3:25:17 - 3:25:34] Spoke: I told Ash I would give him whatever item he wanted, except operator. Even though he was bummed out, he said it was fine. Vitalasy on the other hand wasn't too happy. There was some more stuff between us that I had to cut out since this video is already too long, but long story short Vitalasy felt entitled to it because he found the glitch, which does make sense. However, the risk of another player having admin was too much, and I declined.

every other time spoke mentions vitalasy, it’s with this same combination of avoidance and active dismissal. I keep coming back to that scene at the end; “i gave vitalasy op” and no further acknowledgement. what do you mean more happened between you but you’re not going to show us, and in everything we do get it feels like nothing at all has changed since season 4, you’re still portraying him in the exact same way he was portrayed then? framing it as the full truth, but there’s still this central point you’re taking great pains to talk around. the video is too long. the video is already four hours, how much worse could it get? what about all of that reused footage? that you could cut, and the pacing of the video would be better for it? am I really supposed to believe that’s why you made that decision?

and ultimately this plays into why the video doesn’t really work for me past that hour-or-so mark. because spoke isn’t actually being honest. past that point, things are glossed over or hidden the same way they would be in any lifesteal video.

maybe part of this is the fact that the dupe war stuff is new information to me where what was streamed at the end of season 4 isn't, even if it was cut out of the youtube videos, but i really don’t think it’s just that. It’s in the pacing of the video, what’s prioritized and what isn’t, the amount of time and dramatic attention given to these final moments.

In the scene towards the end where spoke monologues to parrot, after he tricks parrot into giving him admin, parrot doesn't say anything. It’s just spoke talking at him, and then the scene ends without parrot getting a word in edgewise. you get that little moment between them before spoke puts on pants and jumps into the void, but that's still parrot responding to spoke's lie, not to the truth. even if you don't get some sort of conclusion or elaboration on parrot's thoughts here, which is fair enough, you don't even get any real reflection on all of it from spoke in the end.

this is how the video ends:

[3:55:40 - 3:57:25] Spoke: After that I was left thinking, why in the world did I do this? I mean, I was so confused I ended up yelling "Ah, fuck this." then I put on some pants, gave Vitalasy op, and jumped in the void. No one understood why I did this, and I didn't either. Why did I let them win? Why did I follow the rules of the challenge in the first place? Why did it feel like I did all of this for nothing? I wouldn't find the answer until far later. For the next season Parrot didn't want to be the owner anymore, due to the stress and time it took, but he reached out to me and Ash to take his place. He did this, apparently, because we knew a lot about server stuff, but we were willing to give it a shot. I ended up hating that season. Since, no one trusted me, my only teammates on the server were Ash, and surprisingly Planetlord, who almost became the server villain himself, but the worst part was that there was no point in exploiting anymore. Why would I break the game to obtain something I could just get through console? Except, that's when it clicked. The following year, I brought back my Unstable series, this time with Parrot and Wemmbu. These videos would be scripted, but not scripted to save time or be efficient, but instead to push the boundaries of storytelling in minecraft. I've had so much fun this past year, creating things that have never been seen in the game, and that's when I realized it. My favorite moments from the wormhole were when I was making a plan destined to fail, or when I abused a new exploit, or literally any moment when i was doing something that had never been done before. I did the wormhole because it felt like I was doing the impossible. And that feeling was pretty cool.

the whole thing kind of defeats it’s own point doesn’t it? All of this weight on your self reflection, and the mistakes you made, and the way you prioritized your own Content/Story/Narrative/Career/Etc above the other people you were playing with, about chasing this feeling of power. and how, the power was only made real in the lie. you had to lie about how powerful the exploit was in order to trick someone into handing real power to you, and you had to keep that lie up so he wouldn’t stop you, because at every moment you worried that he could stop you. the wormhole is nothing, the exploit was nothing, in any of the ways that really mattered. at one point in this same video, spoke launches a hack client because he’s bored and it isn’t even remarked upon, because there’s no weight placed on launching a hack client. it’s not about what the wormhole can do, it’s about convincing everyone that what you’re doing is interesting enough, is powerful enough, that the power becomes real. it's a social game. If spoke is honest, spoke loses his power. If spoke is vulnerable, spoke loses his power. If spoke, at any moment, stops obfuscating and posturing and acting scary and obtuse and selling his power, spoke loses his power.

that’s what happens to vitalasy. vitalasy is vulnerable, and more importantly accessible, to both the audience and to the other players. because he will sit there and talk to you for hours, and argue with you, and consider your point. spoke makes himself unreachable, so vitalasy receives all of the social consequences that spoke is outrunning by keeping that careful distance. and you have to assume that vitalasy becoming the scapegoat was nothing but useful to him, even if it wasn’t something spoke did intentionally, or consciously.

at a certain point, the only explanation for why spoke won't just actually come clean to parrot instead of hanging onto all of these false pretenses, pivots everything he does on the nppp story in the end, instead of being honest about the conditions nppp was formed under in the first place, is because he doesn't want to deal with the consequences.

everything spoke does in s4 is both chasing that feeling of power in doing what should be impossible, and running away from the point where all of that crumbles and he has to face social repercussions for it. especially when it's obvious that in spite of the lie underpinning everything, and the fact that he was using parrot to achieve godhood, he still cares. it's not like there's this sense of glee in his villainy that will endure, it's just going to hurt if he stops digging himself into this pit, so he can't stop.

he still spent that time with parrot. it was still a real team, no matter why spoke did it in the first place. and the story spoke is telling about the nppp is so much more compelling, so much more meaningful, even when it can never add up right in the end. it's one thing to hurt someone by lying to them, and it's another thing to start wishing the story you were telling was the truth because you won yourself over. In the same way that vitalasy changes course during season 4 because of how much he cares about zam, only you never get to see it happen with spoke. If spoke does feel this, it doesn’t stop him. he doesn’t change his course.

what happens to vitalasy is maybe what spoke is afraid of. because vitalasy does receive those social consequences, on screen, and it’s worse by far than anything we ever see spoke receive. It all falls apart and vitalasy has to respond to it right then and there, taking center stage in a way that allows spoke to slip by under the radar.

despite this, it’s a strange kind of mutual parasitism that works out for both of them in the end: spoke remaining committed to his lie, keeping himself hidden and detached, is what allows vitalasy to avoid playing the villain role he realizes he hates, even when nobody but vitalasy seems to apprehend this as a victory for him. neither wants to be in the other’s shoes. it's easy to look at spoke doing all of this heavy lifting and think, vitalasy really didn't do anything, did he? he found the glitch and that was it, he got spoke involved. but in the end vitalasy says: this is exactly what i wanted.

and vitalasy is put in that position of social vulnerability largely through zam’s presence, acting on lifesteal as a force that (largely unconsciously, at this point) demands vulnerability on multiple levels; not only must you be visible to the audience, but you must be comfortable losing, you must open yourself to embarrassment and potential mockery. you must care. where spoke lets the audience in on nothing, zam lets us in on everything. If zam is going to portray vitalasy a certain way no matter what (and she is, because she refuses to do anything if the audience isn’t there with her), the only course of action is to attempt to control the narrative yourself. even though the more information the audience has, the more you're seen, the less control there is. (a second shoutout to will 75hearts irrealisms on this one)

i guess i don’t know what i want, really. you can’t expect more. It’s a youtube video. he’s not going to stop behaving like it’s a youtube video. but there’s something there, there’s really something there.

zam is my favorite lifesteal member for a reason, and part of it is in the pure lack of care for making videos. going back and watching a zam stream from season 3, the difference is immediately apparent; everything zam did then, she did for the sake of a video. and somewhere over the course of season 4 that changes. so much changes.

If we’re being honest, lifesteal isn’t what I want it to be a lot of the time. most of the players don’t approach it in the ways that interest me. but the thing I care about is real. it is there. and every once in a while, you get it from someone you aren’t expecting, at least for a moment. but whatever, that feeling was pretty cool, wasn’t it? the exploit was pretty cool.