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vamptizm · 5 months ago

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hotel — p. bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x notre dame! reader (+ slight olivia miles x reader)

synopsis : after a win against uconn, you find yourself caught in a tug-of-war between your on and off ex and one of your biggest rivals, who you simply can’t stay away from no matter how hard you try.

warnings : do NOT read or interact with this if uncomfortable, i beg that u just block me. smut with a sprinkle of plot. oral r!receiving. strap r!receiving. praise. hint of size kink. slight breeding kink. squirting. toxic reader x paige. toxic reader x olivia. hannah hidalgo. allusions to homophobia. lmk if i forgot anything.

word count : 8k

note : this wasn’t meant to be a 1k special butttt since i hit that yesterday, why not? (thank u sm btw ily) this is probably the filthiest and most time consuming shit i’ve ever written and some parts are a bit messy so i apologize. i’m VERYYY new to writing smut pls go easy on me.

The fourth quarter was winding down, and the air inside Joyce Center was electric. The roar of the home crowd thundered in your ears as you felt your pulse quicken. Notre Dame was already ahead, the scoreboard a glaring reminder of the 10 point deficit UConn couldn't seem to close. But even with victory all but secured, there was no room to let up. Not now.

You dribbled upcourt after catching the rebound Sonia passed your way, only to feel the clumsy pressure of UConn's freshman, Sarah, on your hip. Her hands reached in too aggressively, and the sharp sound of the whistle sliced through the tension. A foul.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you couldn't help but grin, though you kept your expression controlled. As you stepped up to the free-throw line, the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders. This was your chance to widen the gap and put the game even further out of reach.

You bounced the ball twice, breathing in deeply to steady yourself. But as you readied for the shot, you felt it—those piercing blue eyes on you, unwavering, cutting through the noise like a laser. You didn't have to look to know who they belonged to. Paige Bueckers. She was watching you the way a hawk watches its prey, and though you refused to meet her gaze, you could feel the intensity of it prickling at your skin.

The ball left your hands in a smooth arc, and the net snapped satisfyingly as it dropped through. One down. You bounced the ball again, shaking off the weight of her stare. When the second shot swished cleanly, the crowd's roar grew louder, and your team swarmed you with high-fives.

But you didn't let yourself celebrate. Not yet. There were still minutes left on the clock, and even with the lead, you knew better than to relax.

The game pressed on. Sarah missed a three-point attempt on UConn's next possession, and Olivia held the ball at the top of the arc, scanning the court with her signature calculating gaze. You hovered near the left wing, your focus trained on her movements, when Paige sidled up next to you, just close enough that her voice could cut through the noise.

"Bet you feel real good about yourself, huh?" she murmured, her tone sharp enough to slice through the roaring crowd.

You didn't flinch, didn't even look at her. Instead, you let a small, sarcastic smile curve your lips, keeping your eyes on the ball as Olivia dribbled. "For beating your ass? Guess so. Not that big of an accomplishment."

Paige scoffed, the sound low and unimpressed. "Cute." Her grin mirrored yours, though hers was sharper, more cutting. You could feel her ego bruising beneath the surface, but she hid it well.

It was a moment of mutual irritation, of subtle jabs disguised as casual banter, and you could feel the tension humming between you like a live wire. It wasn't new, this rivalry, this constant push-and-pull. Paige had a way of getting under your skin, but you weren't about to let her know that. Not tonight.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Olivia's gaze snapping to the two of you. Her brown eyes were narrowed, her jaw tight as she watched the interaction unfold. She didn't like it. She didn't like Paige standing so close to you, speaking to you like that, her body angled in a way that felt too familiar, too charged.

Paige noticed it too. Of course, she did. Her smirk deepened as she leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur that only you could hear. "Your girl doesn't look too happy about me talking to you. Think she's scared I'll fuck you better again?"

Your breath caught, and your head snapped toward her instinctively, your eyes locking with hers. That smirk—infuriating and self-assured—was still plastered across her face. It was as if she was daring you to react, to say something that would prove she'd struck a nerve.

The brief glance you gave Paige was all it took for Olivia to lose focus. Her frustration boiled over, visible in the way her movements became jerky and imprecise. When she shifted her weight to drive toward the basket, the ref's whistle blew again—this time for a travel.

The ball left Olivia's hands too late, sailing toward the rim and missing entirely, and the crowd erupted in jeers. She looked furious, her glare bouncing between you and Paige as if you were both to blame.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Guess she's not handling the pressure too well." Her voice was smug, dripping with satisfaction.

You wanted to fire back, to wipe that cocky grin off her face, but the tension in Olivia's eyes stopped you. There was too much at stake—on the court, off the court. So, you swallowed your retort, turning your attention back to the game.

But even as play resumed, you couldn't shake the weight of Paige's words or the way her presence lingered like an itch you couldn't scratch. She might have been your rival, but in moments like those, she felt like so much more.

And that was a problem.

The ball was in play again, and UConn wasn't ready to give up just yet, even as the seconds dwindled down. Sarah got the inbound pass, quickly tossing it over to Kaitlyn, who barely held on under the Irish defense. Kaitlyn, in turn, sent the ball to Paige.

You watched as Paige, ever-calculated, tried to weave through defenders with her signature finesse. Her focus was sharp, every movement deliberate, but as she went up for the shot, Olivia was there, her body colliding with Paige's in a hard foul. The whistle blew, sharp and decisive.

Paige stumbled slightly but steadied herself, exhaling through her nose as she stepped toward the free-throw line. And that's when Olivia brushed past her, her voice low but unmistakably venomous. "Back off."

It wasn't clear if the ref heard it, but Paige definitely did. Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she kept her composure, though you could tell she was simmering beneath the surface. She wanted to laugh—mockingly, sharply, just enough to dig under Olivia's skin—but instead, she shook her head in amusement, her voice calm and cutting as she shot back, "Not my fault she loves it over here."

The words were quiet, not loud enough to be picked up by the cameras or refs, but the way Olivia's shoulders stiffened told you she heard them loud and clear. You could see her jaw clench, though she kept her expression neutral, refusing to let Paige's jab get the best of her.

As Paige prepared for her free throws, Olivia was already trying to argue with the ref, gesturing in frustration. You rolled your eyes subtly, but the irritation was clear. This wasn't new—Olivia's inability to let things go, her need to control every little aspect of the game (and sometimes, your life).

Paige took a deep breath, her hands steady as she dribbled the ball once, twice. She exhaled and let the first shot fly, the ball swishing cleanly through the net. Despite her calm exterior, you could tell the frustration and disappointment of the impending loss were bubbling under her surface. She glanced at you out of her peripheral vision for a split second before refocusing.

The second shot wasn't as lucky. It bounced off the rim, and before anyone else could react, Hannah Hidalgo snagged the rebound. She dribbled it out for the remaining 15 seconds, much to your annoyance.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again, but Hannah had a way of getting to you that no one else did. Ever since she joined the team, the 5'6 sophomore had been too loud, too comfortable in her narrow-minded opinions. It was no secret that the two of you didn't get along—especially after a handful of snide comments she'd made about your relationship with Olivia. Comments that weren't just about your incompatibility as a couple but targeted your sexuality with thinly veiled bigotry.

The buzzer sounded, and the tension in your chest released in a wave of satisfaction. You'd won. The Irish had defeated UConn, and the victory felt as sweet as ever. The team quickly swarmed each other, exchanging high-fives and celebratory shouts, but Olivia went straight to you, pulling you into your usual post-game hug.

This time, though, it was different. Her grip was tighter, her touch lingering in a way that felt less like a celebration and more like a claim. Her hand slid lower down your back than you were comfortable with, her gaze locking with Paige's as if daring her to look away.

It was possessive. It was unnecessary. And it was far too public.

You stiffened, your eyes narrowing as you subtly pulled away. "Don't do that in public again," you said firmly, your voice low enough that only she could hear. "Especially not now."

Olivia's jaw tensed, but she didn't argue. She let you go, and you moved to join the line as the teams lined up to shake hands.

The tension was palpable as Olivia and Paige met briefly in the line, their glares sharp and unyielding. No words were exchanged, but the animosity between them was unmistakable.

And then it was your turn. As you reached Paige, you could see the loss weighing on her. For all her bravado, it was clear she hated this, hated losing, hated being on the other side of your rivalry tonight. Her pride was bruised, but she held herself together.

"Good game," you said, forcing yourself to set aside your rivalry for the briefest moment.

Paige's lips quirked into a small, almost condescending smirk. "Yeah, good game, princess." Her tone was laced with her usual sharpness, but something in her eyes softened, just for a second.

The brief contact as you moved past each other sent a shiver down your spine, your skin buzzing at the memory of her hands on you the last time you'd hooked up. It shouldn't have affected you—not now, not here—but it did.

And as you walked off the court, you couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.

A few hours had passed since the game, but the adrenaline still thrummed in your veins, mixing with the exhaustion that clung to your limbs. You had showered, changed into something comfortable, and spent the last hour staring at the ceiling, hoping sleep would come and erase the memory of what had happened earlier.

The fight with Olivia had been brief but sharp—words exchanged in hushed yet heated tones, the air between you tense with something unresolved. She had wanted to try again. You had told her you weren't sure and needed time to think, and she hadn't taken it well. It wasn't a screaming match, but it didn't need to be. The weight of it was enough to settle over your chest, pressing down like a brick.

So now, you lay on your bed, eyes closed, willing yourself into unconsciousness. But your mind wouldn't shut off.

Then, a sharp ding shattered the silence.

You sighed, exhaling through your nose as you reached for your phone, internally scolding yourself for not turning on Do Not Disturb. The glow of the screen cast light across your face as you blinked down at the notification.

Paige Bueckers: u sleeping?

Your heart stuttered for half a second. You had told yourself a while ago that you'd block her. That you should block her. But you never did. Something—something—always held you back.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard before you typed out a response.

You: no. can’t sleep.

You could've left it at a simple ‘no’, but you didn't.

Another ding. You barely had time to lock your phone before the next message popped up.

Paige Bueckers: i can help u with that mama

You inhaled sharply. Your grip on your phone tightened, hesitating for a second longer than you should have. You knew better. You always knew better. Getting involved with Paige—hooking up with Paige—was never a good idea.

And yet, your fingers moved before your brain could stop them.

You: send the address.

As soon as the message sent, you were up, already throwing a hoodie over your head and stepping into sweatpants. Your shoes went on next as you grabbed your keys.

You made it to the door before a voice broke the silence.

"Where are you going?"

You turned to see your roommate peering at you from her bed, brows furrowed in mild curiosity.

Your grip tightened around the doorknob. You thought for a second, then shrugged.

"I'ma go get laid. Don't wait up."

The car ride to the hotel was short. Too short for your taste.

Too short for you to think, to reason, to talk yourself out of this. Maybe if the drive had been longer, if you had even ten more minutes, you would have turned around. You would have gone back to your dorm, maybe even knocked on Olivia's door, tried to fix things in the morning like a rational person. But you didn't.

Instead, you found yourself standing in the elevator, your reflection staring back at you in the polished steel doors, wearing an expression you barely recognized.

Regret? Anticipation? Something in between?

It didn't matter. The damage was done.

You could still feel the receptionist's eyes on you as you'd walked through the lobby, her polite yet knowing smile burning into the back of your mind. It had been awkward, like she had somehow pieced together your entire life story just from the way you carried yourself. The way you had hesitated. The way your smile had felt forced, almost shameful.

Now, as you stood in front of the hotel room door—room 69, because of course Paige would pick that—you didn't find the irony so funny anymore.

You lifted your fist, knocked lightly against the wood, and took a slow inhale.

The door swung open almost instantly, as if she had been waiting right on the other side.

Paige stood before you, every inch of her revealed in slow, agonizing detail the wider the door opened.

Her blonde hair was down, slightly wavy from air-drying after her shower. You rarely saw it like this—only in pictures that would randomly pop up on your feed, a rare sight that always made you pause longer than you should. The game-day braids were gone, leaving her looking softer than usual. But there was nothing soft about the way she stood there now, leaning against the doorframe, her sharp blue eyes scanning you like she already knew what was going through your mind.

She was in a black Nike sports bra, her toned stomach on full display, a pair of loose gray UConn sweatpants slung low on her hips. Just low enough to reveal the waistband of her Calvin Klein boxers.

You swallowed.

The glasses were new. Purple frames perched on the bridge of her nose, somehow making her look even more unfairly attractive. You hated that about her. How effortless it all was. How she made every single thing—every little detail about herself—feel like it existed solely to mess with you.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Her voice was silky smooth, quiet, edged with something that made your skin prickle.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to look at anything but the infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. The way she stood there, relaxed, confident, like she knew you had already lost this battle before it even started.

And maybe you had.

You weren't sure what came over you. One second, you were standing in the doorway, debating every decision that had led you here. The next, you were walking inside, wordless, your body moving before your mind could stop it.

Paige stepped aside instinctively, closing the door behind you, and that was when it truly hit you.

The reality of what you were doing.

What you were about to do.

A shaky exhale left your lips. You tilted your head back for a second, staring at the ceiling, as if praying for something—anything—to pull you out of this. To stop you from ruining whatever restraint you had left.

But then you looked back at her.

At Paige, who was standing there, watching you with those eyes that had already picked you apart, dissected every thought racing through your head.

And just like that, you broke.

The space between you disappeared in an instant. You grabbed her, pulled her in, crashing your lips against hers like you had something to prove—like you were trying to drown out the part of yourself that was still screaming for you to stop.

Paige reacted immediately. Her hands were already on you, already pulling you in closer, as if she had been waiting for this, as if she had known all along that you would give in.

Her arms wrapped around your waist, strong and unyielding. Yours found their way around her neck, your fingers tangling into the soft waves of her hair, gripping onto something—anything—to keep yourself from completely losing control.

You were already lost.

And maybe you had been from the very start.

Paige's arms tightened around your waist, her grip firm, possessive. The warmth of her hands seeped through your sweatshirt, but it wasn't enough for her. She wanted more. Slowly, deliberately, she pushed the fabric upward, just enough to slide her hands underneath.

The difference was instant—her skin against yours, her palms warm and steady as they roamed over your sides. It sent a shiver up your spine, one she undoubtedly felt but didn't acknowledge. Instead, she just pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss, letting the taste of whatever candy she had been eating linger on your tongue.

What started out controlled, yet purposeful, quickly turned into something else.

Hotter. Messier.

Neither of you had moved from the door. There was no rush—just the slow, torturous unraveling of restraint with every passing second. Paige kissed you like she had something to prove, like she wanted to pull every last ounce of hesitation from your body and leave you with nothing but her.

It wasn't until your lungs burned for air that she finally pulled back, her lips slick and parted, her breathing uneven. Her hands never left your skin, but something about the way she looked at you made your stomach tighten.

You barely had time to process it before she reached up, pulling her glasses off and tossing them onto the couch nearby. Carelessly. Effortlessly. She never took her eyes off you, not even once.

And just as quickly as she had pulled away, she was dragging you back in.

Her hands gripped your waist as she kissed you harder, rougher, her body guiding yours backward without breaking contact. She moved with purpose, leading you step by step until the back of your knees hit the bed.

You gasped softly as you lost your balance, falling backward onto the mattress. Paige didn't waste time. The second you were down, she was on you, hands sliding to your sides, fingers pressing into your ribcage. With barely any effort, she lifted you, manhandling you further up the bed until your head nearly hit the pillows.

Your breath hitched.

You hadn't expected her to be this eager, this physical. But she was careful—controlled, even in her hunger.

Paige climbed onto the bed, hovering over you with that sharp, unrelenting gaze.

Her hands found the hem of your sweatshirt again, tugging at it slightly. "Can I take this off?" she asked, her voice even lower than before.

You nodded, surprised that she had even bothered to ask. Normally, she wouldn't need to. One look was all it ever took.

The blonde didn't waste time. In one swift motion, she pulled the sweatshirt up, dragging it over your head and arms as you arched your back to help. The cool air prickled against your heated skin, but the sensation barely registered before Paige was on you again.

Her lips found your neck, hot and open-mouthed, each kiss deliberate, each drag of her teeth enough to make your breath stutter.

Then she spoke.

"Does y'girl know you're here?"

The question sent a sharp, electric jolt through you.

Not because she cared.

Because she didn't.

You took a shaky breath, trying to ground yourself, trying to find your voice. "Not my girl," you managed to say. "And no."

Paige smirked against your skin, the curl of her lips sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

"She'll know by the time I'm done with you, mama."

Before you could even think of a response, before you could argue or deny the implication behind her words, she was back on you—biting, sucking, marking, until you were sure she had already made good on that promise.

Paige's lips never left your skin, moving lower, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck and down to your collarbones. Each press of her lips was deliberate, her tongue flicking out to soothe where she had nipped, her breath warm against your skin.

But it wasn't just her lips.

Her hands roamed freely, gliding over every inch of exposed skin, her fingers tracing lazy, feather-light patterns against your sides. The contrast of her large, veined hands against your body sent a shiver through you, anticipation curling in your stomach.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her mouth traveled further, ghosting over the tops of your breasts, the thin fabric of your cropped tank offering little protection from the heat of her lips. She didn't rush, didn't hurry—she took her time, dragging her teeth against sensitive skin, biting just enough to leave her mark before soothing it with her tongue.

A sharp inhale escaped you, followed by a soft, airy whimper that you tried—and failed—to bite back.

Paige only smirked against your skin.

Her fingers slipped lower, brushing over the waistband of your sweatpants, teasing, testing. Your breath hitched when she hooked her fingers inside, tugging just slightly—just enough to make your pulse race.

She kept her eyes on you as she kissed down, lower, lower, her lips brushing over your stomach, your body tensing under her touch. Each kiss stole more of your breath, her movements painfully slow, torturous in their precision.

She was in complete control. And the worst part?

You wanted her to be.

The moment your sweatpants hit the ground, it became real. Her lips trailed down further, torturously slow and calculated until her path was blocked by the waistband of your panties. But did that stop Paige? No. Instead of ridding you of them like she had done with your pants mere minutes ago, she continued her actions, now placing kisses over the thin material.

Other than the sounds of shuffling on bedsheets and your breathing that started to turn into quiet pants, it was a cathedral of silence. Her lips halted right above your core, her eyes searching yours before placing another kiss over your clothed cunt, the growing wet patch impossible to miss. A small whine escaped your lips at not only that, but the sight of her altogether. The way her lips were already slightly glossed by you.

"Already wet for me, baby?" She teased, mouth hovering over your core as if she was speaking directly to it instead of you. And that familiar, infuriating smirk made you wanna roll your eyes at her.

"Shut up." You mumbled, not due to embarrassment — nor were you shy — but it was all you could muster thanks to the growing desperation for her. More specifically, for her mouth on you.

Paige simply chuckled. It was deep and irritating, but more than anything, it only fuelled the desire for her. Her finger's hooked into your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the floor in swift motions, before her arms curled around your thighs, pulling you closer.

You barely had been given the time to process what was happening, because as soon as you felt the cool air against your exposed core, your legs were already thrown over Paige's shoulders and her mouth was on you. As much as the blonde wanted to torture you, she couldn't hold herself back.

Her tongue connected to your drooling pussy and you mewled. Paige licked a fat stripe up your folds, a choked moan tearing from your throat as she tasted you. "Even sweeter than I remembered."

Your head fell back against the soft mattress, hand flying down to tangle itself in her hair as she spat on your pussy. Her eyes were glued onto you for a moment, admiring the way her saliva mixed with your slick before diving right in.

"Fuck, please don't stop." You near to whined in pleasure while she continued her attack on your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit with just enough pressure to drive you insane and cheeks hollowing whenever she sucked on it, lips closing around your throbbing bud. She had no intentions of stopping. Not when tasting you was the same as miraculously stumbling across a source of water in the desert.

Once the tip of Paige's tongue began to circle your entrance, you were a goner. Airy and high pitched whimpers fell from your lips while you white-knuckled her hair — using it as an anchor — and the blonde was absolutely sure that, that had to be her favorite sound in the world.

Your back arched off the bed ever so slightly when her tongue prodded into you, plunging in and out with acute precision. The sight of it had her quietly chuckling against you, sending vibrations through your core.

"Damn, mama. Got you feeling that good just by eating your pretty pussy?" Paige pulled back just enough to be able to speak, the pride and her ego all too evident in her voice. She had you right where she wanted. "Your girl not fucking you right?"

You wanted to say something, anything to shut her up. To wipe that stupid smirk — that you couldn't see but were fully aware of — off her stupidly pretty face. But you couldn't. She had already corrupted your mind and robbed you of your own ego and pride. "No. Not like you." Those were the words slipping from your lips and you had no desire to take them back.

That's all it took for Paige to delve back in between your legs, tongue fucking into you and arms holding you down. You didn't even realize how your hips bucked into Paige's mouth, grinding yourself against the girl.

A low, approving hum rumbled in Paige's chest as your hips bucked against her mouth, "Just like that, baby. Ride my face just like that," Paige encouraged, her voice muffled.

Your moans grew louder, more frantic as you instinctively tried to close your legs, squeezing her head with your thighs.

Paige's hands were quick to spread you open again, one leg slipping off her shoulder but she only saw that as an opportunity, tilting her head sideways for more access. Her tongue left your entrance, running it back and forth over your clit and shaking her head from side to side. Gluttony adorned Paige as she devoured you.

She didn't slow down when you warned her that you were about to cum, didn't stop when your orgasm crashed over you while her name fell from you repeatedly. Only when your hand in her hair started pushing her head back, she finally pulled away. Paige's gaze fixated on your cunt, wetness dripping from your hole as you clenched around nothing.

Your wetness coated her lips and chin as she looked back up at you and the sight of it all had a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth— One that was hidden by her wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

As she was moving to hover over you again, you felt a digit dip back in between your folds and suddenly it was right in front of you lips. "Open up," her voice was firm and her words clear.

Without breaking eye contact, your lips wrapped around her middle finger, tasting yourself. It wasn't anything you hadn't already done before, but the way she spoke, her tone and her eyes boring into yours had you flustered.

"Good girl. Tastes like heaven, hm?" She continued and all you could do was mindlessly nod and hope that the warmth creeping up on your cheeks wasn't noticeable. Normally you'd cringe at those first two words, it was never something that you thought you'd enjoy being called. But coming from Paige? It had you turning into her ditzy little bitch.

The tips of her fingers were barely brushing against your lips, a featherlight touch that sent shivers down your spine. She took her time, her blue eyes studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. Your lips were swollen, your hair slightly messy, cheeks flushed with warmth, and your eyes still glistening as you tried to steady yourself. Everything about you held her captive, and she didn't bother to hide it.

"You look so fucking perfect like this," she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

You held her gaze, your chest still rising and falling as you came down from it, lost in the moment, in her.

After a beat, Paige pulled away, climbing off of you with a quiet exhale. She was still fully clothed as she strode toward her bag, the absence of her warmth already making you stir. You watched as she crouched down, digging through her things before pulling something out. The moment your eyes landed on the strap, you inhaled deeply, thighs instinctively pressing together.

Paige turned back toward you, her smirk slow and knowing as she studied your reaction, her gaze sweeping over you with deliberate slowness. She took her time walking back to the bed, tilting her head slightly as if contemplating something before finally speaking.

"What's wrong, mama?" she taunted, her voice teasing yet edged with something heavier. "Scared you can't take it?"

You inhaled sharply, fingers twitching against the sheets. Shaking your head, you swallowed hard, willing your voice to come out steady. "No. I can take it."

Paige didn't reply. She only let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and rich as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her sweatpants. In one smooth motion, she rid herself of them, standing there in nothing but her sports bra and the black harness she was now securing around her hips and thighs.

The sight of her like this—self-assured, composed, and devastatingly attractive—made something deep in your stomach twist. Your fingers curled into the fabric beneath you, anticipation buzzing through your veins as Paige settled her gaze back on you.

She smirked again, rolling her shoulders back, completely in control.

"That's what I thought," she murmured.

You blinked and suddenly felt the mattress dip, the blonde already climbing back onto the other side of the bed and resting her back against the pillows and bed's headboard. "C'mere." She demanded, patting her lap in such a cocky, infuriating way that had you wanting to roll your eyes and put your clothes back on.

But you didn't. Instead, you listened and your legs were already thrown over her thighs. You watched as spat in her hand, using it as lubricant to stroke her silicone strap while she eyed you up and down. The way your hardened nipples poked at your thin tank top and the way your cunt continued to drip on her bare thigh.

"As much as I wanna see you ride my thigh, I'd rather watch you take this dick right now." Her words were clear and direct, tainted with desire in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

Upon not getting a response from you, her hands reached out to grip your waist, pulling further up on her lap. That's all it took for you to prop yourself up on your knees—as wobbly as they felt— pussy hovering over her strap before you replaced her hand with yours, positioning the tip towards your entrance and slowly sinking down on it.

A chocked gasp fell from you, lips parting at the sheer size and girth of it. It had been a while since you took anything more than a couple digits and the switch was overwhelming to say the least.

Paige's gazes was glued onto the scene, watching the way your pussy swallowed her whole with a faint smirk—slowly but surely. Inch by inch. Her palms caressed all over your torso in order to help you feel more comfortable.

It didn't take long for you to get accustomed to the intrusion, your hips grinding back and forth. You could barely look at her, the way her hungry eyes focused you like a hunter it's prey, tongue darting out to lick her lips and occasionally biting the bottom one. It drove you insane and you couldn't think straight, your head tipped back.

"You can do better than that, baby. C'mon, ride me with the same energy you had on that court today." She spoke again, her tone encouraging, yet taunting. It almost made you chuckle. Of course she was still stuck on that, she'd always been a sore loser.

Taking a deep breath, you began to bounce up and down on her, small moans coming from you every time it hit that certain spot. You hadn't realized just how close her face was to yours until you looked down at her again, her blue eyes so dark and sharp that tore a whimper from you.

Her hands snaked up to your tank top, pushing the material up until your breasts sprung free. Her smirk grew wider and her hands slid down to your hips, her grip tightening as she watched your bounce so close to her face, before fully riding you of the material.

Paige breathed, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and up the column of your throat. She took a moment to admire the sight of your tits, her gaze hungry and appreciative. "Fuck, baby... Look at you," she murmured, leaning down to take one hardened nipple into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive bud, sucking and grazing it with her teeth

The muscles in your thighs were starting to tighten and burn, but you tried to ignore it. The pleasure was far greater than a little pain that you could easily handle.

Paige's blunt nails were digging into your skin as she looked up at your face now, admiring the way your brows furrowed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parted as you panted. The knot in your abdomen was starting to tighten and you had no intentions of losing it.

Next thing you knew, you were being lifted off of her and thrown back onto the mattress stomach down. It only took her a couple seconds to lift your hips up and kneel behind you. In the blink of an eye, she slid herself back inside of you, her hips already back to snapping into you. A mix of 'wait's and 'slow down's came from you, but she was already in too deep.

"Said y'could take it, right? Fucking take it then. You know the safeword."

Her pace was quick and relentless, every need to prove herself to you suddenly making a grand return. Paige knew that by the end of the night, you'd be her's, one way or another. With every movement from the blonde, you were being pushed further up the bed, face pressed into the mattress with one of her hands pushing down against your shoulder and your cries muffled. Even the simplest touch of her hands and the way her fingertips dug into your hips was enough to have you a mess.

"Fuck, Paige. S' good." You managed to cry out, words muffled due to the position you were in. In all honesty, if you could've stopped yourself from praising her, you would've. But it was impossible to keep your pride alive when she was killing you from the back.

A smug smile curled at her lips and her chest filled with pride. "Yeah? Just like old times, hm?" Her voice honeyed up, cooing at you.

Of course she would say that— remind you that it wasn't the first time she's had you like this. Face down and ass up while she claimed you as hers for as long as she could. Until the post nut clarity would eventually hit you like a truck.

But until then, you were all hers.

It was clear that you were still holding back, biting your lip or burying your face into the sheets to drown out the sounds you were making. Paige wasn't having any of it.

"Lemme hear you, mama." Her tone sounded almost demanding, hands tightening their grip around your hips as she pulled you closer against her, filling you to the brim. "God— sucking my cock in, hm?"

You couldn't help but let out a loud cry, your own hands gripping the bedsheets like they were a lifeline and the sloppy sounds of Paige driving into you at full force were nothing shy of pornographic.

It didn't take long for the knot in your stomach to tighten and for the familiar warmth to pool in your pit. You didn't have to say anything—didn't want to say anything further. With the way you were clenching around her, she swore that she could almost feel it as if it were her own cock, and she knew you were close.

"Paige—"

She was quick to interrupt you. "I know. Cum for me, mama." Her tone was almost comforting, urging you to let go.

You didn't have to be told twice. The wave of pleasure washed over you, sinful and pornographic sounds escaping you— not that you had the energy to hold them back this time.

Paige's grip loosened and instead her palms were gently rubbing your lower back, soothing the areas she had held onto too tightly. The blonde carefully slipped out of you, giving you a few moments to catch your breath while she bent forward to place feather light kisses on your skin.

You were still in the same position. Face down, ass up and softly panting for much needed air. Her eyes were now on your cunt, admiring the way your own cum leaked out of you and she couldn't help but lower herself until she face facing it. Her tongue darted out to lick a stripe up your folds, just to have another quick taste, she told herself.

"Sorry. Couldn't stop myself." She chuckled lightly in response to you whining at the sensation.

Paige moved without warning, her strength effortless as she flipped you onto your back, the mattress dipping beneath you. Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling as you looked up at her, doe-eyed.

She hovered over you, her gaze dark and unreadable, a slow, deliberate heat simmering beneath the surface. Her hands—rough, calloused from years of playing—traced the curve of your waist, fingertips skimming your ribs before sliding down to your stomach in a slow, teasing glide.

She wasn't rushing. She was waiting.

Waiting for you to catch your breath, to meet her eyes, to let her know you were still right there with her.

"Think you can give me one more?" Her knuckles brushed over your abdomen, up and down and just that was enough to leave you wanting even more.

You nodded your head, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it rest inside your lungs for a couple seconds before releasing it.

Paige grinned faintly, eyes still dark and clouded with just as much lust as the second she opened the door for you. "I'ma be softer this time, don't worry, baby." You both knew she was lying.

Eventually she was positioned between your legs, tip of her strap gliding back and forth over your soaked cunt. She paused for a moment, just long enough to admire, but the whine that ripped out of you brought her back to earth.

"Just put it in." You couldn't stand the way she was teasing you. Not when everything in you was screaming for her. The desire you felt towards Paige was like wanting her to live inside your rib cage— impossibly close.

"You want it that bad?" Her brows raised ever so slightly, no doubt taunting you for her own enjoyment.

But by this point, you'd given up. No more holding back, you'd let her have you in whatever way and every way. "Need it so bad. Please, baby."

A feral, triumphant grin spread across Paige's face at your desperate, needy pleas. With a swift, gentle thrust of her hips, Paige sheathed her thick, girthy strap deep into your dripping, eager hole.

Paige exhaled at the sight, starting to roll her hips in a steady, deep rhythm. The way you were gripping her 'dick' like a vice, coating it so beautifully had her head spinning.

She hooked your knees over her elbows, nearly folding you in half as she loomed over you, consuming you completely. "Y’need it, huh? It's mine? Pussy all mine?" Paige punctuated her words with sharp, rough snaps of her hips, forcing her cock deeper in than you thought possible, filling you to the brim.

Your eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as you tried to speak. "Yours." It came out airy, too quiet for Paige's liking.

"What was that?" She near to mocked, pressing your thighs closer against your chest so she could hit at a deeper angle. "Speak up or I'm gonna stop."

You didn't let the 'threat' linger in the air, your mind instantly scrambling to spew out somewhat coherent rambles. "Yes— yes it's yours. All fucking yours, Paige."

"There you go. Wasn't so hard." Leaning down, Paige captured your lips in a filthy, dominating kiss, all tongue and teeth as she fucked into her harder and faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin and the noises you both made filling the room.

She panted at the strength in which she was fucking you. Paige knew she was hitting your cervix with every thrust, stirring up your guts, but she couldn't stop. Not until she'd ruined you for everybody else.

All you could do was whimper against Paige's lips, nodding your head at every word even if you couldn't fully process all of them. All you could think of was the feeling of the blonde on top of you, gripping and touching, the tip continuously abusing that one spot

Your moans filled the room and you prayed there would be no noise complaint with how loud the two of you were being, not that either of you truly cared. Not in that moment at least.

"Slower, please," you managed to choke out, wanting to savour it for as long as possible. Wanted to be closer to her. You could swear that you felt Paige all up in your guts— maybe even your chest— tight pussy clenching over the blonde's strap.

"Mmm, you want me to slow down, baby? Want me to fuck you nice and gentle?" She purred, her voice a seductive rasp.

Paige began to roll her hips in a slower, more deliberate rhythm, grinding her thick strap against your g-spot with each thrust.

"Can feel it in my guts." You slurred your words slightly, mind blank— fucked dumb by her cock as Paige usually liked to call it.

The blonde let out her throaty, signature chuckle. "That's because I am," she nodded her head down and your gaze followed, eyes widening and breath hitching in your throat.

You could actually see her inside of you, the bulge in your belly an indicator of just how deep she was inside of you. You rasped out a deep "fuck" at the sinful sight.

"Would knock you up if I could, pretty girl," she smirked as you clenched around her. "Yeah? Y'like the sound of that? Y'wanna have my babies, mama?"

The sight of it mixed with the idea—the vision of her breeding you, her cum dripping out of you—was pushing you towards the edge. You nodded your head frantically, nails digging into the skin of her biceps as you gripped them.

Your whimpers and moans grew more high pitched the closer you got to your orgasm, mouth agape as you tried to keep somewhat quiet. You couldn't help but hold your breath occasionally, too lost in the pleasure to breathe evenly.

Paige's hand came up to grip your jaw, squeezing your cheeks slightly and forcing you to look at her. "You wanna cum on my dick? Gotta ask for it first."

"Yes, please. Please, Paige, Please, please, please," you repeated over and over, begging for it like a whore. It felt like you couldn't even think, let alone speak coherently.

She continued to thrust into you with slow and deep strokes, coaxing your release out of you. And once again, the pit inside ur tummy started to burn, tightening until you felt like you couldn't hold it anymore. In all honesty, you can no idea whether you were about to cum or if you were about to utterly embarrass yourself.

"Go ahead, baby. Let go f’me."

You didn't have to be told twice, eyes staring into hers and jaw falling slack as it crashed over you, barely any sound escaping you as you came. Paige could feel you soaking not only her thighs, but the bedsheets as well as her eyes trained on the way you gushed all over her in awe.

It took you a few moments to come back down from it and one glance down had your hands flying up to cover your face. You groaned into your palms in embarrassment. To be fair, you had no idea that you were even capable of squirting.

"God, that was so fucking hot. Sexiest thing I've ever seen." She breathed out a faint chuckle, "Hey, look at me."

And for some reason, you complied— letting your hands fall from your face and glancing up at her.

"You're fucking perfect, yeah? Nothing to be embarrassed of." And the way she said those words, so soft and clear, told you that she was being genuine.

Paige pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before carefully sliding out of you and slipping away, the warmth of her body leaving yours as she padded toward the bathroom. You listened to the sound of running water, your breath still steadying as you lay there, staring at the ceiling.

When she returned, she had a damp towel in hand, her expression softened as she knelt beside you. There was no arrogance in her touch now—just quiet care, her hands moving with gentle precision. The sight of it tugged at something deep in your chest.

Maybe Paige wasn't as bad as you'd thought. Maybe there was more to her than the cocky, womanizing basketball star.

You couldn't stop watching her, admiring the way her brows knit slightly in concentration, the way the dim light caught the sharp lines of her face. This time, you were the one staring in awe.

"What?" Paige asked, a small smile pulling at her lips, catching the way you were looking at her.

"You're just so beautiful." The words left you before you could think better of them, but you meant them. Every single one.

A hint of color dusted her pale cheeks, and before you could take in the sight of it for too long, Paige leaned back in, pressing another kiss to your lips—this time slower, as if she was savoring it.

When she pulled away, her voice was light but laced with something genuine. "So... you gon give me a chance or what?" It was a joke, but there was something behind it, something almost hopeful.

You held her gaze for a moment before giving the subtlest of nods, your smile faint but real. "Sure. Why not."

Paige exhaled a soft laugh, but you could feel it—the way her heart was racing just as much as yours.

taglist (mostly ppl who asked weeks ago lol i’m so sorry) @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @starlighttsv @ekisokay @st4rrzynight @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @omg-imtumbling @xxloveralways14 @cowboylikeavaa @prettygirl-gabi @itsstavy13 @kaelaheartsyou @jnkbueckers @shootingstarrrrr @melpthatsme

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers oneshot #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #Spotify

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entelodante · 9 months ago

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Wyrms come in a lot of different flavors in Abattoir land, so we're starting with the Sweep variety! More info found BELOW!

Containing some of the largest species of Wyrms, Sweeps are distinguished by their mouth placed ventrally on the proboscis, needle-like teeth, all 8 limbs used for locomotion, and a swollen hind gut. Sweeps are typically some of the most hardy Wyrms in the wastes, able to continue to move at all temperatures. They thrive at a range of about -100 to -160 degrees Fahrenheit, but are unbothered up and to around freezing point. They ARE more vulnerable to the scalding rain more typical to the Southern areas of their range. If they get to hot they swell up and can burst, so they typically try to stay Northernly! Honestly the best weather prediction you can find nowadays is these guys stuffing themselves full of ice and snow before a storm rolls in.

But! We've got a varied bunch here so lets get into the SPECIFICS of these Annelids! I've got a small sample just to show off some of the basic types you'll encounter.

Sleek Wanderer These guys are found in the remnants of the great plains, which are now vasts expanses of snow and ice. Sleeks are primed to spend their lives enduring the biting winds of their home as they snuffle their way through the ground cover. They move especially slowly, often a single step for every sweep of their mouth! Being in such a barren home, they don't really worry about too much going on around them. Assuming you don't bother them too much you can touch them or even ride one and it wont pay you any mind. The only time they get a little aggressive is when brooding, then they may try to strike. Though it isn't anything you could not leisurely side step.

Whistle The noisiest of the bunch, these guys are known for the iconic whistling noise they make during the uh.. digestion process. They live in warmer areas and eat a lot of plant matter so they tend to have a more swollen gut. On the smaller side of things though! And a LOT quicker than other sweeps, they WILL turn and slash you if you startle them. Still not fast enough to meaningfully chase a human, but they got some reach on em! They typically run into humans a bit more as they also like to congregate around the exteriors of Abattoirs to eat the plants that grow there.

Grimacing Chatter The most BEAUTIFUL of the sweeps, these guys like to curl up their 'lips' and expose their teeth down to the roots. Their teeth are mobile as well, used to shift through the snow and dirt for food. The sound of these teeth clattering against each other is a signature of these big beasties. Probably for the best as these fellas are EXTREMELY aggressive! They are the Southern most variety of sweep, dealing with a wide range of predators by flailing their head towards any perceived threat. If you get caught in their maw they WILL start to chow down on you, never a missed meal with these guys!

Eastward A sweep that enjoys the spoils of a sanguine Atlantic! Eastwards are so named because they are usually always facing that direction, nibbling at the snow and ice to feed on any blood that blows in on the breeze. They begin their lives spawned by the blood sea and will spend the first half of their lives walking away from the ocean. The second half of their life is spent walking back towards it! Once their they are back at the shore, they are able to withstand the heat drifting up from the sea by sweating profusely. They keep most of their body on the frozen shore, reaching into the warmth with their big ass mouth. After a life of walking, they will gorge themselves on blood until they breed, after which they promptly die. Nature is beautiful even now!

Swingsnap While Wyrms have no eyes and therefore don't really have a concept of light, the fact that humans and their derived forms still mainly rely on sight has greatly influenced the Swingsnap. Their dark coloration is perfect for blending in with the eternal night of the wasteland! They possess a highly sensitive sense of smell/taste to track down the remnants of humanity. Once they come upon their quarry, they are quickly able to coil their toothy maw around them, stabbing into them with many hundreds of teeth. Their prey is 'chewed' by the constant coiling and shifting of the mouth, drunk down bit by bit. After a week or so of gnawing, they will drop the remaining pile of gristle and begin the hunt once more.

That's the gist for these fellas! Typically these are the chillest of all Wyrms, both literally and in the attitude sense! Most of the time you'll run into these guys just in the middle of nowhere. Stand still and they'll most likely just pass you by.

That being said all varieties can still bite!

#i have a anatomy post that is supposed to come before this but i got too hype #the abattoirs #art #worldbuilding #speculative biology #spec bio #wyrms #speculative evolution #spec evo

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moonlightwritingf1 · 6 months ago

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Raw | LN4

𐙚 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N have sex without a condom for the first time. He cums inside her.

𐙚 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𐙚 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.3k

𐙚 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Based on this request.

Y/n stretched lazily on the couch, her toes curling into the soft fabric as she scrolled absently through her phone. The faint hum of London’s evening traffic drifted through the open window, but her mind was elsewhere—specifically, on Lando. They had been officially together for seven months now, and every moment with him felt like a whirlwind of emotions, teasing, and undeniable chemistry. But tonight… tonight was different.

She glanced at the clock. He would be here any minute. Her heart fluttered, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress the nervous excitement bubbling inside her. They had talked about this earlier in the day, a conversation that had started with casual banter and ended with something much more intimate.

No condom, she thought, her cheeks flushing. She had finally decided to bring it up after weeks of consideration. After all, she was on birth control now, and the idea of feeling him—really feeling him—without any barriers had been on her mind more often than she cared to admit. When she mentioned it, Lando’s reaction had been… well, typical Lando. A mix of playful teasing and genuine enthusiasm. “Bold move, love,” he had said, his voice low and edged with mischief. “But I’m not complaining.”

The sound of the doorbell startled her out of her thoughts. She smoothed her hands over her jeans, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. There he was, leaning casually against the frame, his signature smirk already in place. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, stepping aside to let him in.

“Traffic,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair. “And you know how impatient I get when I’m coming to see you.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth that spread through her chest. God, he’s impossible. And yet, there was something about his unapologetic confidence that made her knees weak.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers. “So… about earlier…”

Her breath hitched. “What about it?”

His grin widened, and he moved even closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened. “Are you?”

That earned her a laugh, deep and rich, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Always, love. Always.”

Their lips met in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a hunger that made her head spin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing herself in the taste and feel of him. His hands slid down her back, settling on her hips, and he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

When her back hit the mattress, he pulled away just enough to look at her, his eyes filled with desire. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, trailing his fingers along her jawline.

She shivered under his touch, her body already responding to him in ways that left her breathless. “Flattery won’t get you everywhere, Norris.”

“Oh, I think it just did,” he quipped, sliding his hands under her shirt and lifting it over her head. His eyes raked over her bare skin, and he let out a low whistle. “Definitely everywhere.”

She laughed, but it quickly turned into a gasp as his lips found her neck, nipping and sucking lightly. His hands worked skillfully at the clasp of her bra, and within seconds, it joined her shirt on the floor. He groaned at the sight of her, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

“Lando…” she breathed, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He helped her, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, marveling at the way his muscles tensed under her touch.

He was lean, yes, but there was a strength to him that always surprised her. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—confident, assured—or maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. Whatever it was, it made her feel things she hadn’t felt in years. Things she hadn’t thought she could feel.

He leaned down, capturing her lips again, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, and she could feel the hardness of him through his jeans. She rocked her hips against his, earning a growl from deep in his throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his hands sliding down to undo her jeans. He tugged them off, along with her panties, and paused for a moment to just look at her. His gaze was intense, almost reverent, and it made her heart race.

“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Just… you’re perfect.”

She blushed, averting her eyes, but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “Don’t look away. I want to see you. All of you.”

Her breath caught, and she nodded, unable to speak. Slowly, he trailed his fingers down her body, touching her everywhere but where she wanted him most. She squirmed beneath him, frustration building with every teasing stroke.

“Lando…” she whined, her hips lifting off the bed in silent pleading.

He chuckled, low and wicked. “Patience, love. Good things come to those who wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough,” she retorted, grasping his wrist and guiding his hand between her legs.

He groaned when he felt how wet she was, his fingers slipping easily through her folds. “Holy shit, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “You’re absolutely soaking wet.”

She gasped as he slipped a finger inside her, her back arching off the bed. His thumb circled her clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. He added another finger, stretching her, preparing her, and she whimpered, rocking her hips against his hand.

“Please,” she begged, her nails digging into his shoulders. “I need you.”

He didn’t make her beg twice. He stripped off his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free, hard and leaking. She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his length, and he hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward.

“Careful,” he warned, though his tone was anything but serious. “Or I might not last long enough to make this worth your while.”

She smirked, giving him a little squeeze. “Promises, promises.”

He laughed, shaking his head, and then he was positioning himself between her legs, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes locking with hers. “This is really what you want?”

She nodded, reaching up to cup his face. “Yes. I want to feel you. All of you.”

He kissed her gently, a stark contrast to the desperation they both felt, and then he pushed into her, slowly, inch by excruciating inch. Neither of them broke eye contact, and she could see the exact moment he felt her completely—the way his eyes darkened, the way his breath hitched, the way his entire body seemed to shudder.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough. “You feel… Jesus, you feel amazing.”

She couldn’t agree more. The sensation of him inside her, without any barriers, was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Every vein, every ridge—she could feel it all, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one driving her closer to the edge. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. Their breaths mingled, their bodies moving together in perfect sync, and for the first time in her life, she felt truly, completely connected to someone.

“Lando,” she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his voice strained.

Lando’s lips brushed against her ear, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered, “You have no idea how good you feel right now.” His voice was low, husky, and dripping with desire, sending a shiver down her spine that made her arch into him. His hands roamed her body, tracing every curve, every dip, as if he were memorizing her all over again—and perhaps he was.

“I want to make you feel everything,” he continued, his teeth grazing her earlobe gently before he kissed the sensitive spot just below it. “Every inch of you… I want to worship it. I want to devour you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her body responding instantly. She could feel him inside her, every movement, every thrust, intensifying the pleasure coursing through her. His cock felt like it was made for her, stretching her in ways she hadn’t known were possible, filling her completely.

Lando’s hands slid down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he pulled her closer, driving himself deeper. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with effort. “And wet—Jesus, Y/n, you’re absolutely soaking. I can feel you… all of you.”

“Lando…” she whimpered, her voice trembling as she felt herself unraveling under him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as the sensations overwhelmed her. The way he moved inside her, slow yet deliberate, was driving her insane. She could feel the tension building, coiling tightly in her core, ready to snap.

His lips found hers again, capturing her moans as he kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers in a rhythm that matched his thrusts. He broke the kiss only to whisper against her lips, “I love how responsive you are. How you move with me. How you take me.” His words were like gasoline to the fire already burning within her, igniting something primal, something raw.

Her hands moved to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She could feel how hard he was working to keep control, to keep his movements steady, but she could also sense the desperation in him. The way his breath quickened, the way his muscles tensed—it was as if he were holding back, waiting for her to fall first.

But she didn’t want to fall alone.

“Harder,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with urgency. “Please, Lando… I need more.”

He didn’t hesitate. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one hitting that perfect spot deep inside her that had her seeing stars. She gasped, her head falling back as the pleasure intensified, threatening to consume her entirely. “Fuck, y/n,” he growled, his hands tightening on her hips. “You feel too good. I’m losing my mind here.”

She could feel it too—the way his control was slipping, the way his rhythm faltered slightly as pleasure overtook him. But instead of pulling back, he pushed forward, giving her everything he had. His cock pulsed inside her, as if begging for release, but he held on, determined to bring her with him.

His lips found her neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there as he murmured against it, “I want to cum inside you. Can I? Please, baby, I need to feel you come around me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze briefly before she nodded, her voice breaking as she whispered, “Yes… please.”

That was all the permission he needed. His thrusts became erratic, his breathing ragged as he gave in to the overwhelming pleasure. She could feel him twitching inside her, feel the heat building as he approached the edge. And then, with a groan that sounded almost primal, he came, spilling himself deep inside her.

The moment his hot seed filled her, something inside her snapped. The tension that had been building in her core exploded, and she cried out, her body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. It was unlike anything she had ever felt—intense, all-consuming, and utterly perfect.

Her legs trembled, her grip on him loosening as she fell back against the bed, completely spent. Lando followed her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he buried his face in her neck, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

For a moment, they simply lay there, their bodies still connected, their hearts racing in sync. Then, slowly, Lando lifted his head to look at her, his eyes filled with emotion. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he whispered, “You’re incredible. Absolutely fucking incredible.”

She couldn’t help but smile, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of their shared climax. “So are you,” she replied softly, her hand resting on his cheek. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her palm, the stubble rough yet comforting.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “I want to worship you. Every part of you. Body, mind, soul… you’re mine, Y/n. All of you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the intensity in his gaze making her stomach flutter. She knew he meant it—every word, every promise. And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe it. To believe in him.

Before she could respond, he kissed her again, this time soft and lingering, as if sealing a promise she wasn’t even sure she was ready to make. As their lips parted, he whispered, “Sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And for once, she didn’t argue. She simply closed her eyes, her body sinking into the mattress as exhaustion claimed her. But just as sleep began to pull her under, she felt his arms wrap around her, holding her close, keeping her safe.

In that moment, she felt truly, completely his. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

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maggotvamp · 29 days ago

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YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL — CHO HYUN-JU

synopsis: hyun-ju thought that was it, her family and friends cutting her off, her job firing her, she had nothing. she didn’t think she could make it in korea, not with the stares, the judgement. though, the barista in her favorite coffee shop made her feel different.

authors note: my baby did NOT deserve the ending she did, so im choosing to believe it never happened :)

Hyun-ju was a simple woman, needing her daily dose of caffeine to get her through the day. In her mind, it was probably even what helped her get up these days. The caffeine as well as the person behind making them.

The stores chime rang behind her, alerting her presence to the workers shuffling behind the counter and wiping the once occupied tables.

“Hyun-ju! Welcome in!” A voice called out to her, the same voice she grew to adore hearing. The woman in question stood behind the cash register, waiting patiently as she walked up. “How you doing this morning? Your usual?”

Hyun-ju chuckled, leaning her head down so her hair could cover the smile growing. “Yes, please and i’m definitely going if that’s a good enough answer.”

“Well it’s better than doing terribly, and coming right up!” Sending her a smile, you abandoned the register to go make the drink, her usual? An iced coffee with one cream and one sugar and a sweet message from you as a little pick me up. Her favorite part.

As you were finishing her order, you managed to squeeze in a couple glances at her without her knowledge. Her signature meerkat pose as she waited made you hold back a grin. It was one of the many traits you adored about her but with all the hints you gave her, you would expect her to know that by now, but unfortunately not.

“Alright, all done!” You announced, her distracted gaze focusing back on you as you slide the plastic cup over the counter. “Would you like a donut or croissant? On the house.”

She just laughed, shaking her head as a black nail polished hand waved you off. “That’s okay.”

“Nonsense, lemme go get you something to have with that coffee.” As you rummaged through the sweets displayed through the glass, Hyun-ju glanced at her cup. In black bold writing wrote ‘For my favorite customer and person’ with a faded winky face possibly from her pinky rubbing against it.

Her eyes squinted at the message, feeling a warmth spread over her face. A small smile appearing as she saw you head towards her with a wrapped paper white bag. “All for you, enjoy.”

“Thanks, you really didn’t have too.” She expressed, taking the bag from your hands—fingers grazing yours.

“Anything for my favorite customer, you look extra beautiful today by the way. Do anything different?” Closed fists facing down on the counter as your body leaned towards hers. Hyun-ju’s eyes widened in surprise as she tucked a fallen piece of hair behind her ear.

“Nothing different than usual.”

Shaking your head, a low whistle escaped your lips. “Wow, I guess you’re just getting more pretty by the day then.”

She couldn’t help but deny it. “That’s not true.”

An insulting scoff made her brows shoot up in alarm. “Are you kidding? You’re kidding right? Hyun-ju, you’re beautiful. I thought that when you first walked in here. Hell, when you told me you served in the military I thought it was so hot.”

“Really?” You could see her eyes start to water, a shaky smile decorate her features. Nodding frantically, you watched as she glanced down at her filled hands and laugh.

“I think you’re really beautiful too. I’m just surprised you felt the same, given my situation.” You thanked god the shop was slow today, feeling yourself fall in deep with your conversation.

“Your situation has nothing to do with how I see you, I like you alongside it.” Hyun-ju was sure her cheeks would surely start aching with how bright her smile was. Her newfound confidence being brought to light.

“Would you maybe want to go out with me sometime? My treat, least I could do with how much free stuff you’ve given me.” She offered, gesturing to the items in her hands.

“I would love that.” You smiled, glancing down at your apron pocket and fishing a pen, grabbing a napkin sheet out the dispenser beside you before bending down and scribbling various numbers.

Perking back up, you slide the paper in her left hand that was holding her pastry. “Call me whenever you’re free, i’ll be looking forward to it.”

You sent her off with a wink, trotting off back to the register as she glanced down at the napkin. Her farewell consisting of a soft gaze and half smile as she left the coffee shop.

Hyun-ju, stuffing your number in her pocket, walked with more of a purpose than she previously did. Her thoughts flooded with you, alongside the excitement for possibility and the future. It gave her a bit of hope, that she wasn’t alone after all, that someone saw her as she was deep down.

Maybe there was something in Korea that was worth staying for.

#cho hyun ju x reader #squid game season 3 #squid game #squid game x reader #cho hyunju #cho hyun ju #wlw #squid game season 2 #player 120 #player 120 x reader #hyun ju squid game #hyun ju x reader #cho hyunju x reader

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 months ago

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"GET WELL SOON!!"

MARK GRAYSON X FEM WB!READER

Bio: Mark got beaten up again, so you try your best to cheer up your sick boy. Based of this post

He's invincible for Christ's sake, so how does he get beat down like some D-tier hero? This sucks. It just sucks sitting down in bed with a broken leg and a fractured wrist. God, this sucks. It's just sucks. Everyone else is out fighting crime, and he's home watching dumb trash TV. He's about to lose it; if he doesn't get any action, he just might go insane from all the boredom. But he can barely get up, and his mom gave him specific rules not to leave the house when she's not around, and the other guardians are watching out so he won't leave bed. Ugh, this just isn't fair. It's just a broken leg and a bruised wrist; he can still kick ass, he thinks.

SLAM

"What the?" Mark sits up but instantly feels lightheaded from all that lying down. "Do not fear, fellow citizen, for Invincible is here!" you yell, wearing your signature yellow, blue, and black costume, flexing your very non-existent muscles at him with a big smirk. "I am here to cheer you up," you say with a wink, hitting him with some corny finger guns. Mark let out a surprised laugh; he couldn’t believe his eyes. This was probably the worst impression of him ever, like when parents hire a fake Spider-Man to come to their kid's birthday party. But he'll play along; plus, you really do look good in that suit. "Wow Invincible showed up to cheer up little ol' me," he chuckled, covering his mouth with his good hand.

"Yup!" you said confidently, pointing at yourself with a grin. "I'll do whatever you wish," you said, doing a little spin for him, making him laugh a little bit more. But you see, saying you'll do whatever he wishes was your very first mistake; your second mistake was not letting him check you out in this little invincible suit. "Oh really? You'll do whatever I say and some more?" he questioned, rubbing his chin with a good hand. "Well, that wasn't what I—" Oh, what the heck, he's bedridden; it's not like he could do anything. "Yeah, that's actually what I meant. Your, dear Invincible, will do whatever you ask!" Big mistake, huge.

"Can you do a little spin for me, Invincible? I want to see the suit; I mean, I never got to see it up close." You felt a strong surge of pride, and you couldn't help but do a little spin for him, slower than the first one, so he could see everything from the front to the back, the way it hugged your curves so nicely and how stretchy the material was so that it wouldn't be too tight. There were some parts that were a bit too tight, like around the chest area, but it was no biggie. Mark let out a whistle, watching it, which just boosted your ego more. "You like?" You did a dynamic pose for him. "Oh, I love it!" You couldn't control the little giggles that escaped your lips. "I made it myself. I wanted to wear it to a convention, but I felt this was better." Lies, you really made it for him. "Well, you did an amazing job, baby. I mean, Invincible," he said with a soft smirk on his face.

You sat on his bed, just for him to pull you into his lap. You keep forgetting how strong he is, even when he's half-broken. "Are you sure you can hold me? You're still a little... well, broken," Mark frowns and flexes his very existing muscles. "Does this look broken to you?" You wanted to laugh and blush at the same time. "No, sir!" You saluted him. "Good girl. Now, can the great Invincible show me her secret identity?" he said, gently rubbing your hip in a little circle, just for you to shake your head. "Nope, secret!" You giggle, "Not one peak," you shook your head again, and Mark makes a mock-upset face. "UGH! You're not fun. How about this: why don't you take care of me, then?" he asked, a wicked little grin on his lips. "Like what? I could make you something to eat—" Then his lips were pressed against yours. Oh, that's what he meant.

Mark's way of kissing was kind of like conquering you, if that made sense. His arms were wrapped around you, pulling you closer until you were both chest to chest. He devoured you with one kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, needing you, drinking in every whimper and gasp while letting out heavy breaths of his own. Then you heard a rip followed by a tear; his hand was clawing at the back of your suit, ripping it like confetti. "H-Hey, quit that!" But he didn't; he kept on ripping like you were some Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped. He had ripped the front and the back of the suit, making you pout. "You could have just unzipped it." It took you so many nights to make this. "Sorry, sweet thing." He wasn't sorry; you could see it in that devilish smirk. "No panties, huh? Invincible..." And here comes your shame: "It didn't look good because of the panty lines," but to be honest, it really didn't look good with the panty lines either. "Or you were planning this." His fingers flicked your clit, making you gasp, and his thumb slipped between your folds, feeling your wetness. "Definitely planned." He acted so cocky, like his cock wasn't throbbing at the idea of you in a custom-made hero suit just for him. "Come on, Invincible, why don't you cheer up your sick boy?"

"M-Mmh-" his hands were practically glued to your tits; even with a broken wrist, it didn't stop him from grabbing and pinching just to make you smirk as you bounced on his cock, barely even taking him in. Your mask was already lifted over your head; he needed to know your "secret identity." It was actually an excuse to see your cute little fucked-out expressions, like how your eyes would roll to the back of your head if he bucked his hips while you were riding or how you let little tears leave your eyes when overstimulated. "F-Fuck, baby!" you whined, feeling him fuck into you mid-ride. You pushed his hips down to stop him from bucking again. "Y-You asked me to take care of you," soft pants left your kiss-swollen lips. "Let me do that; you're hurt." He let out another needy whimper; it was getting harder and harder for him to keep control of himself when you looked so cute like this, with little baby hairs sticking to your forehead from sweat, how your hips always stuttered just a little when you tried to grind down on him, and the way you let out small curses in between when he was just too much. So Markus sat back and watched the view of his little Invincible.

But a part of him didn't like how you were doing all the work, his pretty girl, so why not help you just a little? And by a little, he means a lot. He wrapped both arms around you and pulled you closer to him so the two of you were face to face. Both of you let out pathetic little "ahh ahh ahh" sounds as you fucked like rabbits in heat. Mark bent his good leg up so he could get a better angle, hitting that spot that left you quivering. You tried to get out of his grip but remembered he's the hero here. "F-Fu... my g-god... y-you're so... w-warm... and... tight, shit!" He bit his lip hard; just feeling you was enough to make him cum, but he had to hold out. "Fuck!" He looked to see your blissed-out face. "God, you're so pretty like this," he breathed, nipping at your lips, trying to pull you into one of his very sloppy kisses, and it worked like a charm. You felt him grip your thigh, a sign that he was close, but at the same time he was moving, there was no way in hell he was pulling out or letting up on his pace. He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as he came inside you, thick hot ropes of cum painting your insides. "I-I really did like the suit," he choked out in between gasps, just for you to slap his chest; there was literally no suit left.

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lifeasadorkwithnolife · 5 months ago

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Jealousy (Azriel x Reader)

Word count: 3200

Mor and the reader have a plan in place to make Azriel jealous, but it backfires instead.

You sighed, resting your elbows on the kitchen counter and placing your face into your hands. “Mor- please, don’t start this.”

“I’m not starting anything, Y/N.” Mor disagreed, stirring the tear in her mug with a spoon. “I think I’m finally ending this pining game that you are putting yourself through.”

“I don’t pine.” You mumbled, hesitating before peeking through your fingers. Mor rolled her eyes, taking a sip. “Fine, fine. Maybe I do, but can you blame me? He is the perfect male.”

“I don’t blame you, but I also don’t know what you see in him besides his looks.” Mor teased, reaching out and pulling your hand from your face. “I’m just kidding, and you’re beautiful, Y/N. Any male would be lucky to have you.”

You gave her a small smile, feeling the blush start from your chest and snake its way to your cheeks. She laughed, grabbing your cheek and giving it a squeeze. “But seriously, my plan is perfect. Watch this.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, but she gave you a look and leaned back down on the counter, stirring her tea.

“I just really think you should shoot your shot.” Mor giggled, and Azriel walked into the room, not even looking between the two of you. “Maybe you should do it at Rita’s tonight, you know we always see him there.”

“Mor-stop!” you blushed harder, slapping her and looking down. Azriel didn’t even stop as he strolled through the room and out the other door. “See I told you, he wouldn’t care.”

Mor gave you a devious smile, “this plan has multiple parts my dear, planting the seed of jealously is only part one.”

“I am not wearing this!” You screeched, looking in the mirror. You were wearing one of Mors signature red dresses, but the slit went so far up the leg you couldn’t even wear proper undergarments. “Seriously-no.”

“Seriously, yes.” Mor sat on her bed, her own dress on and hair done. “We are going to go out, have a good time, and maybe find you a new male to flirt with.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling ridiculous but also… hot. You turned, looking at yourself over your shoulder as Mor smiled from behind you, leaning back and crossing her long legs. “Are you sure?”

“Duh, lets go!” Mor grinned, hopping off the bed and grabbing her clutch and your arm. You tried to keep up with her quick pace, but in your heels that was never going to happen. You nearly fell, but caught yourself just in time for Azriel and Cassian to walk into the hallway.

Their gazes landed on you, Cassians eyes grew wide and both males physically stopped in their tracks. “Boys- don’t wait up for us, the adults are going out.”

“Y/n!” Cassian whistled, causing you to turn a deep scarlet. “Have fun out there, where are you going?”

“None of your business, this is a girls only event.” Mor teased, grabbing you and pushing past the two large males. Azriel’s eyes locked on yours for only a second before glancing away, no expression on his face. “But if you need to know- we’re going to Ritas!”

You two arrived at Rita’s not too long after, grabbing a drink and sitting in a booth. You watched everyone dance around you, you never really did this with Mor, you were more of a reader, not a dancer. You sipped your drink, your eyes darting around nervously. “Soooo…is this a part of your plan too?”

Mor sipped from her drink, finishing it off and setting it down. “Come on, lets dance!”

�� “I don’t dance.” You argued, regretting leaving the house. This was so silly, this was not your scene.

“Look who just showed up.” Mor grinned at you, raising an eyebrow. You turned, watching the dark figure walk in through the door. You were surprised, Azriel was here without being forced? That was a first. You smiled, going to wave at him but then realizing that he… someone was grabbing his arm, pulling him away and towards the bar. Not just someone, a beautiful fae with long blonde hair and a huge smile.

Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach as you watched Azriel give her a small smile back, not pushing her away but instead following her to the bar. Your smile fell and you could feel a wave of nausea flowing through you. “Mor, he’s with someone.”

She frowned, eyes squinting at the pair at the bar. She quickly picked up her drink and put the straw to your lips. “Take a drink and lets get your mind off him. He’ll be out of here before we know it.”

You nodded, numbly grabbing the straw and sipping the rest of your drink and setting it down on the table. You followed Mor out to the dance floor, and after a few minutes of awkward swaying, you could feel the alcohol kick in and your nerves give way.

“See, aren’t you having fun?” Mor laughed over the loud music and crowd, grabbing your hand and giving you a twirl. You spun easily, laughing as you felt the dizziness wash over you. You grabbed the clip from your hair, shaking out the loose waves that you had done before.

“I think I am having fun actually.” You smiled at her, twirling her back. “Let’s get another drink!”

You two made your way over to the bar, and you gave a big smile to the bartender as he poured you another drink. He slid it across the bar, leaning over and placing his hand on yours. “You come around here often?”

“No, I definitely do not.” You laughed, not pulling your hand away and instead brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “What about you?”

“I do work here, so I would say so.” He retorted, a smirk on his face. You looked down in embarrassment, but his warm finger reached under your chin, forcing you to look up into his brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Isn’t that a little personal?” You teased him, pushing his hand away playfully and grabbing your drink. You took a sip, looking up at him through your lashes. As you did so, your eyes drifted to the left, where you spotted Azriel and the girl sitting next to him.

Azriel’s hands were clenched at the bar, his drink untouched. The girl next to him was still talking, but Azriel gave no inclination he was listening, his eyes boring into yours. Dark, dazzling, angry. “It’s just your name, doll.” The bartender stepped into your view of Azriel, giving you another dazzling smile. You physically had to shake your head, trying to get the thought of Azriel out of your mind. You were here to get over him!

“Y/N.” You smiled, “I’m going to go dance, but I’ll be back.”

“You better be.” The male winked at you, making you smile again as you found Mor again on the dance floor.

You danced your heart out with Mor, swinging your hair around until you were covered in a light sheen of sweat. You laughed so hard your abs hurt, but your heart still felt a pang every time you saw her sitting at the bar with Az.

Eventually the night came to an end, and you walked up the bar, Azriel and the girl had both left, you wonder if you would see her at home. The thought made you sick to your stomach. “It was nice meeting you.” You smiled at the male; he smiled back as you sat in one of the stools. He took a rag and was cleaning the inside of a glass when you spoke again. “I…I think you’re very attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I am ready for any type of relationship, even one for the night.”

He looked at you, nodding in understanding as he placed one glass down and picked up another. “I admire your honesty.” He answered, “I don’t know if I’m in the right place either for that type of relationship, Mor got me this job to help me move on from my past life…including my ex. I’ve been trying to do things the right way.”

You nodded, and he sighed, looking around. “Speaking of her- where is she?”

“I think she left.” You replied, “She was talking to someone, and I think I saw them walk out only a few minutes ago.”

“Figures.” He snorted, placing down the last glass and looking around. “I can’t let you go home alone, grab your coat, I’ll Walk you.”

“I’m really fine.” You laughed, grabbing your coat and putting it on. “I can defend myself pretty alright.”

“Oh I’m sure.” The male chucked, grabbing his coat from under the bar and shrugging it on. “I’ve heard the stories about you, I heard a rumor that you once killed someone with just one finger.”

You laughed out loud, bending over to contain to hold your stomach. He turned off the light, chuckling to himself as you both made your way to the door. “I totally did not do that.”

“I don’t know- It did sound like a pretty convincing rumor.” He teased, you were met with the cold blast of air outside and the earliest signs of dawn in the sky. You heard the door lock, and he turned back to look at you. “I heard one minute the guy was standing, and the next, you were standing over him, finger in the air.”

“Oh shush!” You pushed him, laughing again. “What finger was it? I need to know.”

“That’s the best part.” He grinned down at you. He leaned down towards you, his lips coming close to your ear. “Your pinky.”

You pushed him away, smiling and blushing. “No way!” you pushed your hair back from your face again, a grin on your face as you looked up at the male. In the light, you could see his sharp cheekbones and pointed ears, and the boyish blonde hair that was neatly combed on his head. “Thank you, for tonight. The drinks were great, and I had a lot of fun.”

“I can seriously walk you home.” He offered, pointing in either direction. “What way are you?”

“Seriously- I can do it.”

“I can’t let you walk home alone.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “now are we going left or right?”

“That won’t be necessary.” A gruff voice replied, you jumped, turning and watching Azriel come out the alleyway.

The male immediately took three steps back from you, looking between you and the shadowsinger. “Got it, I’ll…I’ll see you next time, Y/N?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, giving the male a small wave as he quickly walked down the alley. Once he was out of eyesight, your eyes turned to glare at Azriel. “What was that for?”

“You said no, he didn’t respect that.” Azriel said flatly, “Let’s go home.”

“I don’t need to be walked home!” You angrily stomped, arms flying to your chest in annoyance. “And why did you have to be so mean? He was nice and just wanted to make sure I got home safe!”

“I can make sure you get home safe, Y/N.” Azriel rolled his eyes, his shadows moving around his frame. His wings were tall and spread, blocking the view of the alley behind him. “And, let’s be honest Y/N, you would be protecting him more than him protecting you. That male was useless.”

“Us-Useless?” You raised your eyebrows, “Okay Mr. Judgemental, thank you for your opinion that I did not ask for. He was fine, he was great actually, thank you.”

“Oh really?” Azriel’s eyebrow rose, “You met him while he was bartending at Ritas, what do you know about him that makes him great?”

“He makes good drinks!” You shouted, angrily balling up your fists and bringing them to your side. “And…And he was nice! And honest!”

“Oh honest hm?” Azriel rolled his eyes again. “let’s go home Y/N.”

“I’m not walking home with you.” You seethed, trying to walk past him but he held out his arm. “Get out of my way.”

“He wasn’t the type of male you want, Y/N.” Azriel moved, stepping in front of you and looking down. “His family has a history of being abusive towards females, you could do better.”

You froze, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How would you know that? And how is that any of your business?”

“I make it my business to know the males that you make company with.” Azriel’s eyes grew darker, and he moved out of your way. “Let’s go home.”

“What type of male should I look for then?” You countered, crossing your arms again and leaning, one hip out. You could feel the cold air on the slit on your dress, but maybe it was your anger, but you didn’t care. “Tell me, what kind of male should I look for?”

“Not someone like him!” Azriel’s hand flew in the direction that the other male had walked off, “You need someone who can protect you at the very least!”

“Oh protect me?” You laughed, you started to walk past him, slightly pushing him. “Get a hold of yourself, I can protect myself just fine.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to!” Azriel countered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to look at him. “You need someone that has your back, someone that will always take your side.”

“or maybe I need someone nice.” You replied, trying to rip your grasp from him. “Nice and honest.”

“You don’t want nice, you don’t care about nice.” Azriel’s eye darkened, you could feel his shadows moving around his arms.

“Tell me what I need then.” You ripped your arm away from him. “Since you seem to know it all, just spit it out already.”

“You need someone that will fight for you, someone that would wait for you, someone that would kill for you or do anything you wished. Someone who would fly across the the fucking courts just to be able to see you.” Azriel seemed out of breath, his eyes boring into yours with intensity.

You stared back at him, eyes narrowing and a frown forming on your lips. You thought of the girl he was with, at the bar, and felt your heart drop back into your stomach. “So you’re saying I need someone like Cassian?”

Azriel’s eyes went wide, and he backed up a few steps, running his hands through his hair. “Do you…do you feel for Cassian like that?”

“Of course not!” You shouted, crossing your arms. “I just have no idea who else you could be referring to-“

“Me!” Azriel shouted, pointing towards himself. “I am referring to me!”

“You don’t mean that.” You whispered, your hands started to shake slightly.

“I do mean that.” Azriel replied, his scarred hands coming back to his sides as he stared at you. “I had a hard enough time watching you with that useless male, please do not make me watch you and Cassian.”

You stared at him, a million thoughts racing through your head at once. There was no way, Azriel..Azriel was with that girl. “Who were you with tonight?” You placed your hand on your hip, trying to ease the shake. “You two seemed awfully close.”

“I don’t even know who she was.” Azriel rolled his eyes, “I was outside Rita’s for nearly an hour before she grabbed my arm and told me that she was a friend of Mors and brought me inside.”

“Why did you go to Ritas?” You countered, and he looked around, shrugging almost like he was embarrassed.

“I…fuck Y/N.” Azriel grabbed the bridge of his nose again, “Mor had told you to shoot your shot, then you’re putting on this scrap of fabric and telling everyone you’re going to Rita’s, of course I’m going to go.”

You stared at him, the sun was beginning to rise behind him, casting him in a glow. “You… you were jealous?”

“Yes, I was jealous.” Azriel growled, “I wanted to rip that males hands off when he touched you.” Your heart pounded in your chest as Azriel glared at you, he still seemed angry. “When you first came out here, I thought you were going to go home with him. I think I might have actually killed him.”

“I was jealous too.” You admitted, slowly walking the few steps over to him so you could look up at him. “When I saw you with that that girl… and she was touching you, and she was so beautiful, I thought I would be sick.”

His eyes shone with honesty and a bit of emotion that you had never seen from him before, vulnerability. “I don’t think I looked at her.” He whispered, his hand slowly moving to tuck the piece of hair that fell in front of your ear. “I just spent the whole night wishing I could dance with you like Mor was, or flirting with you as easily as that male was.”

You grabbed his hand, feeling his calloused one under your own. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again Az.” You whispered, and he nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted another male, I compare- I compare them all to you.”

“As do I.” He replied, leaning his head down slowly. You could feel the words he spoke on your lips, “You were the only one made for me.”

His lips met yours, slowly and deliberately, and you didn’t pull away from the kiss until you needed to get some air. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread from your neck to your face.

“I’ve been waiting for you to blush like that for me.” Azriel teased, using a thumb and stroking your face. “Now, let me walk you home.”

While you and Azriel spent the day making up for lost time, Mor got out of the house and went back to Ritas. She smiled at her old friend Jason, who placed a water in front of her and smiled back.

“That little plan of yours almost got me killed, you know.” Jason grabbed a towel, cleaning a glass as he normally did when making conversation. “Who was the girl you had come in with Azriel?”

“Someone else who owed me a favor.” Mor smiled, sipping on her drink.

“Well…did the plan work?” Jason asked, setting the cup down.

“Unfortunately, I think it worked too well.” Mor scrunched up her face in disgust. “They were at it all night long.”

#azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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hughmanbean · 1 year ago

Text

Loving Threats

Inspired by a song and its remake. But I am trash at syncing lyrics to storybeats.

Danny and Jason met in the ghost zone when Jason was dead, but he forgot it all coming back to life. When the two of them were together, they went through the entire song and dance (literally) of asking each other out.

I'm serious. There were like 10 different musical scenes with varying themes. It was Fenton Romance at its finest. And Jason's old school romance heart was certainly played a large part too.

It was their love language. Dramatic acts, vague threats and all.

Post revival and reconnection with the Batfam, Jason spots a familiar face. A flood of memories wash through him, and with it a bout of giddiness. Though he's currently dressed as Red Hood, Danny'll be able to tell who he is and keep quiet. Just have to greet him in a way that he'll recognize.

---

Danny is out taking the kids for a walk. Dan was grumpy since he wasn't allowed any ecto chips, for both his health and as punishment for severely beating a guy who tried to mug Danny without permission yesterday. Ellie is quite cheerful, since she's going to visit the Crocodile and Zombie sewer-dudes when Danny's not looking.

All of a sudden, Red Hood, casually wielding a gun, approaches Danny. He makes an overly familiar gesture, wrapping an arm sideways around Danny's waist. He whistles under the hood, a faint green glow from the white eyespaces.

"Well who do we have here? You look half dead, honey."

Danny looked at him. Horrible pick up line? Check? Thin veneer of confidence? Check. Zero self control around Danny? Check.

Jason. The rancid ecto signature is new, though. Honestly, not surprised he's a crime lord now.

"Well, you know how it is. The kids have been running me ragged. And you sure haven't been any help."

Danny puts on an innocent smile. Jason sidles closer. A few bystanders watch them with varied expressions.

"Well you don't need to worry about that now. How about you and I go somewhere more private?"

---

"A crime boss, huh?"

Dan is raiding the fridge. Ellie is watching a fight on TV.

"It was a... necessary step. I promise I would've visited you sooner if I had known."

"It's fine. What else happened while you were gone?"

"Well..."

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #The Drama Kid Jason #Meets Commit To The Bit Danny #de aged ellie #de aged dan #danny is mama #dead on main #Jason sees Danny and goes for it no hesitation #I want to make this work but I am struggling #I had this in my drafts for two whole weeks #Basic gist/outline was Jason greeting Danny and Danny reciprocating #While everyone else saw it as Jason losing a bit of sanity around Danny - Batfam #Or the Red Hood coercing a civilian to date him using his kids as bargaining chips - Other #misunderstanding

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heliosunny · 16 days ago

Note

Hiii!! First off, I wanted to say i love love your works!! I absolutely fell in love with the mydei grovelling series (im a sucker for that trope) and wanted to ask if you could do something similar(grovelling) for phainon?🫶

PURE EXPERIMENT

Phainon x Reader

Warning: This work contains explicit NSFW content intended for mature audiences only.

When you, Caelus, and Dan Heng crashed down onto Amphoreus, it felt like the universe itself had spat you out into a place it had long chosen to hide.

Caelus was the first to move. His signature baseball bat rested against his shoulder, Dan Heng followed, you were right after.

You saw a figure stepping out. Caelus was barely prepared for what was coming. The man caught the bat with one hand. Dan Heng stepped forward next, but the man shifted his stance, brushed his cloak aside, and broke the spear in half.

Your gun was up, you fired several shots. The bullets were blocked effortlessly.

“I mean you no harm.”

You kept your sights on him.

“My name is Phainon. Welcome to Amphoreus.”

What came after blurred into a fog. He explained too much and yet not enough. In the end, the meaning was simple: you, Caelus, and Dan Heng were staying. For how long, you don't know.

Phainon regarded the three of you as if he’d been waiting for centuries. Behind you, Dan Heng said nothing, but the look he shot you said everything: Stay alert.

You tightened your grip on your gun, even if you knew by now it wouldn’t help.

“Come,” he said, “You three must be exhausted.”

You’d barely gotten used to the unsettling quiet of Amphoreus before it turned to chaos again.

Phainon claimed it wasn’t his place to interfere, yet here he was, striding beside you. You thought he'd be introducing you to someone else as a guide and then leave.

Then there's more fighting. You don't know why you always encounter these monsters thingy.

Between skirmishes, you caught whispers of Nikador. What was that? Titan?

On that path, you ran straight into Mydei.

He was tall, built like he’d been carved straight from the marble beneath your boots and you couldn’t help it.

“Woah... look at him..” you whispered under your breath, elbow nudging Caelus.

Caelus, predictably, chimed in with a grin. “That’s what I’m saying.”

That earned you both the look. Dan Heng’s narrowed eyes spoke first: Focus. You coughed, eyes darting away awkwardly. Caelus whistled under his breath, turning his grin into a tight-lipped hum. Mydei, for his part, just stared at you both.

Phainon glanced at Mydei, then at you. “What about me, then?”

Was he serious? Well, you were curious. And, well, fair was fair. So you stepped forward, a little too bold for your own good, pressing your hand to Phainon’s arm, just beneath the layered cloak. Solid. You pretended to check your wrist-guard as you withdrew your hand, face heating under Dan Heng’s silent judgment.

“Yeah, you’re… um. Sturdy.” You coughed again. “Moving on.”

With Mydei now at your side your group pressed deeper into the ancient corridors.

You met Castorice, she's beautiful in her own way, though she looked pale in your opinion. The fight was ugly. You mostly kept to the edges, rerouting your drone’s output, tossing makeshift barriers and feeding Caelus and Dan Heng the openings they needed.

When it was over, the ruins were eerily quiet again.

When you three stumbled back to your assigned quarters, you barely had the strength to peel off your gear before collapsing. Caelus snored first. Dan Heng slept near the door, half-sitting.

Hours later, you blinked awake to the low hum of the complex. No one else was up yet. Caelus drooled on his sleeve. Dan Heng’s breathing was as calm as ever.

Your curiosity wouldn’t let you stay still. You slipped your boots back on, checked your gun, and stepped out into the winding corridors.

You’d heard murmurs about a communal bathhouse here. You found it, well it was close to wherever you three are staying. You didn’t mean to linger, but the sheer number of people made you pause. Some bathed quietly, but most gathered around something in the middle, giggling and shouting.

That’s when you spotted him, a flash of silver hair slumped awkwardly near a low wall. His cloak was half undone, collar askew, eyes unfocused.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” you muttered.

You pushed your way through the crowd and reached him just as he slumped sideways. You caught his arm, startled by how heavy he suddenly felt. His skin was burning hot where the steam had gotten under the layers of his uniform.

“Phainon? Hey! Don’t die on me!”

His eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut again as you dragged him out through the haze, ignoring the curious stares behind you. Once in the open hall, you propped him against a pillar, pressing your palm to his forehead for a moment. Yes, still burning. You tugged at his cloak, loosening buckles and straps until he could breathe again.

After a few minutes, the sharpness returned to his eyes.

“I… appreciate your intervention.”

“What were you doing in there?” you asked, still holding onto his arm just in case he tried to tip over again.

“Observing..”

“Observing what? A sauna full of people cooking themselves?”

You pressed your palm to his forehead again. Still hot. You let out a sigh and leaned back, giving him space to breathe.

“Next time, observe from the doorway, yeah?”

Phainon just gave you a faint smile.

---

Caelus and Dan Heng were as reliable as ever, you knew that the moment you left them behind. If there were invaders left to chase off, they’d handle it. That freed you up to follow your own curiosity, straight into the heart of Okhema.

You’d heard whispers about the Chartonus Smithy. Rows of weapons lined the stone displays. You didn’t buy anything, not yet. But you ran your fingers along the crafted hilts, made notes like a kid in a candy store who knew they’d be dragging Caelus back here later to pick out something ridiculous together.

When you finally stepped back into Okhema’s streets, the dusk lights of Amphoreus caught the edges of the city, turning the rooftops to gold. Time to head back to your place.

You turned a corner and stopped dead in your tracks.

Phainon stood there.

“You shouldn’t be here, should you?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“You look like you’re tracking someone. Or me. Which is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at the slip of alloy sticking out of your bag, a polished dagger blueprint you’d snagged at the smithy’s counter. His eyes lingered there, then drifted back to yours.

“I’ve struggled to protect Amphoreus for a long time,” he said finally, “Seeing others come.. it eases the burden.”

Your shoulders dropped a bit at that. The honesty surprised you.

You tried to wave it off, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “It’s nothing. It’s what we do.” You shrugged. “We’ll help however we can, for as long as we’re here.”

His eyes stayed on you. “I hope you can stay longer.”

You gave him a lopsided smile you didn’t quite feel. “Can’t promise that.”

A silence settled between you. The kind that made you think you might turn around later and see him still standing there.

You stepped backward, giving him a small wave as you turned to leave. “Go rest, Phainon.”

---

The Chrysos Heirs — that’s what people called them here. And right now? They're definitely busy. Busy having a break. One of those breaks was the so-called duel in the bath house. Honestly, duel was generous, it was closer to two bored dude bickering.

You’d stumbled in by accident. In the end, Mydei won.

When you rushed over, Phainon looked seconds from passing out. You muttered a few choice curses under your breath and hauled him upright, arm over your shoulder, ignoring how heavy he was draped across you.

But before you got two steps toward the corridor, Phainon straightened. His grip tightened around your wrist.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “There’s no need—”

You knew that tone. The I didn’t lose, I allowed it tone. Which was exactly why your free hand slipped behind your back, reaching for the small device you’d been fiddling with at the smithy the night before, a short-range pulse tool, mostly for recharging drone cores but technically capable of shorting out a grown man’s nerves for a second if you calibrated it just right.

The zap cracked in the tiny space between you, a bright flicker of blue that danced up Phainon’s side and set his neat hair askew for half a heartbeat. His eyes widened, then rolled back as his legs buckled for real this time.

You caught him — again. Muttered another curse — again.

“Overly dramatic puppy.” you grumbled, dragging him back toward the hallways before anyone in the bath house could notice him knocked out cold in your arms.

You didn’t risk hauling him back to your own quarters. Instead, you nudged open the door to his room. You half-dropped, half-settled him onto the low-cushioned daybed near the window. Even unconscious, he looked like he’d chosen the pose on purpose - one arm draped neatly, hair falling across the pillow in a perfect arc.

You stayed for a while, not because you wanted to, you told yourself, but because you needed to see if your device’s timer actually held. Ten minutes? Twenty? Could you get thirty before the charge burned out?

So you sat on the floor beside him, back resting against the bed frame, your little shock device in your palm. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. And when his breathing hitched once, you flicked the switch again, just enough to send another soft pulse through the coils. He settled back down.

“Ohh, might be useful for future enemies. I'm a genius.”

You’d give him five more minutes before he woke up and pretended none of this ever happened.

If there was one thing you’d taken seriously from Miss Himeko, it was her cooking. Or at least, her unwavering faith that a good cup of tea could solve just about anything.

So when Phainon finally stirred awake, you decided to help him properly. You rummaged through the odds and ends you’d pocketed from the local market: dried roots, something like star anise, a vial of shimmering purple powder. You boiled it all together until the steam curled out of the tiny kettle. The result glowed a soft, suspicious purple. You sniffed it once. Himeko would approve, probably.

When you placed the cup in Phainon’s hands, he studied it like it might start to talk to him. Then he looked at you.

“You made this for me?”

You crossed your arms, leaning on the doorframe. “Miss Himeko says hot tea fixes everything.”

He raised the cup and took a sip. The steam curled around his hair, softening the angles of his face. He lowered the cup and gave you a polite nod: “It’s… exquisite.”

A heartbeat later, he froze. His eyes widened slightly. He blinked at the cup, then at you. Then he winced, one hand lifting to press at his temple.

“Phainon?”

He didn’t answer, just lurched forward off the bed, nearly knocking the cup from your hands as he braced himself against the sink nearby. A harsh, choked sound forced its way up his throat.

You swore under your breath. You grabbed his shoulder, steadying him as he doubled over. “Deep breaths, come on, out with it.”

When he finally threw up the shimmering tea, it looked like ink swirling down the drain. He coughed once, eyes watering, shoulders tense under your grip. You rubbed circles between his shoulder blades, muttering apologies.

When he pulled back from the sink, his skin was clammy, but then came a wave of heat.

“Stay still— hey, Phainon, stay still—” you muttered, pressing him gently back onto the bed. You swapped the empty teacup for a fresh one, normal water this time. You held it out to him. “Here.”

But he just stared at the cup, words slurring as he muttered something about the Titans.

“Phainon, focus!” You tapped the rim to his lower lip, nothing. He turned his face away with that dazed, stubborn grace that made you want to shake him and apologize at the same time.

You stared at the cup, then at him. Then you sighed, bracing yourself for the last terrible option.

You lifted the cup to your own lips, taking a sip of the water, just enough to hold in your mouth. Then you leaned down, one hand cupping the side of Phainon’s flushed face.

“Don’t bite me” you muttered under your breath, then pressed your lips to his.

The water passed slowly between you. When you pulled back, he looked at you like he wasn’t entirely sure where he was anymore. You wiped a drop from the corner of his mouth with your thumb.

When Phainon finally stopped fighting the strange haze in his head, you thought it was over. He lay back like he might drift to sleep for real this time. You’d done enough damage for one day, the cursed purple tea was out of his system, the water seemed to help, and the worst of the nausea was gone.

But the heat lingered. He shifted restlessly on the bed, one hand tugging at the collar of his robe as if it were strangling him. You grabbed the edge of his sleeve and shooed his fingers away, muttering under your breath, “Don’t you dare disrobe on me!”

He only cracked an exhausted laugh that faded into another low sigh, then his eyes flicked open,, focusing on you like you were the only thing that made sense.

“Your hand… is cool.”

You swallowed down the awkward knot in your throat and pressed your palm gently to his cheek, feeling the fever burning under his skin. You hesitated, then pressed your other hand to the side of his neck, fingertips brushing the rapid pulse beneath his jaw. He was scorching. He leaned into the touch like a cat.

But as the heat spiked, so did the strange flicker behind his eyes, his lips parted, mumbling half-formed words you couldn’t follow.

“Hey— Phainon! Focus.” you whispered, shifting to lift the water cup to his lips. He wouldn’t drink on his own, so you did it again. The moment the water touched his tongue he shuddered.

His hand slipped behind your neck pulling you into a deep kiss that startled the air right out of your chest. You yelped against him, your palm pressing instinctively to his chest to push him back. He didn’t flinch, only deepened the kiss, a muffled sound caught in his throat as your push pinned him halfway to the mattress.

Your mind reeled. What am I even doing. His heartbeat thundered under your palm, hotter than your own. His cloak slipped free under your elbow, half-off his shoulders now.

You forced yourself to break the kiss. “You’re— seriously—”

But before you could fully pull back, Phainon shifted, the weakened half-dream grip of a man whose body forgot its limits. He rolled, and suddenly you were the one pinned under him.

You bit down on the side of his neck, just enough to shock him. He flinched. You scrambled out from under him.

“Uh- So... I'll send someone over. Stay here.”

You needed backup. Reliable backup.

You ran as fast as you could, spotted Aglaea passing by.

“Aglaea— do me a favor—” you blurted. “It’s Phainon— he’s— got a fever. Weird one. Could you— maybe—”

You didn’t even finish.

“I’ll call for Hyacine.”

Good. You exhaled, pressing your palm to your chest where your heart still raced.

By the time Phainon’s fever finally broke, you’d half-convinced yourself he’d remember everything. But when he next found you, he didn’t bring it up at all.

----

When the three of you Caelus, Dan Heng got that flickering message from Himeko, it felt like your heartbeat had been dropped in ice water. « Be careful — that place… the records say—»

The signal flickered and died, leaving you staring at the screen.

Not five minutes later, your phone pinged with a new message - Screwllum: « Are you lingering on the Astral for a reason? »

You fired back: « Well, I'm on this place called Amphoreus — you heard of it? » The line flickered. The text bubble formed. Then it vanished mid-typing.

You found Phainon again later that evening at the Marmoreal Market. You almost missed him in the bustle, standing next to Mydei by a stall. Mydei’s massive arms crossed, whatever they talked about must’ve finished quickly, because Phainon glanced over your shoulder, spotted you, and gave Mydei a small nod of farewell.

Phainon approached. “I wished to apologize,” he said, “If… I did something that made you uncomfortable.”

There were a dozen ways you could answer, a dozen truths that might bury you both in awkward silence. Instead, you forced a shrug, ducking your head so he wouldn’t see how your ears turned pink. “It’s fine. Nothing happened. Nothing weird at all.”

Except for the fact I basically poisoned you and then made out with you to keep you hydrated.

Anyway, now that you mention it, I should test how you’d hold up against Himeko’s coffee next. If my tea nearly killed you, her brew might finish the job... Wait, what was I thinking...

Your mind drifted — flicking through Himeko and Screwlum’s message that never finished, something was definitely wrong. You barely noticed when Phainon reached up and plucked something from your hair. His fingers brushed your temple.

Your mind went traitorously blank. The sudden heat rose to your face before you could stop it.

“Gotta go— BYE!”

You clutched your phone tighter and ran off, reminding yourself Screwllum had tried to reach you for a reason.

A day after Screwllum’s message finally punched through the interference. Screwllum: « That place is not to stay. Leave before the link closes.»

Caelus and Dan Heng were already making plans, though they hadn’t said it outright yet. But you… you couldn’t stop thinking.

The more you learned, the more Amphoreus coiled around your curiosity like a living thing, and especially him. Phainon. What was he, really? A man? A machine?

You jotted down notes: — Flame Reaver: Dan Heng’s report. — Chartonus Smithy. — Phainon’s real identity.

Caelus and Dan Heng had left, Aglaea called them. That left you alone.

One thing you never told them both, you weren't a normal mechanic. Well, you like them, so you stayed on the Astral with a fake identity. You packed up your kit and were halfway to the door when you heard it: a soft click and the hush of robes brushing marble.

Phainon stood there. He held something carefully in both hands - small, round, cradled in a wrap of cloth.

“I knocked,” he said, “When no one answered, I thought… I would simply leave this.”

He extended it to you — an egg.

You took it.

“What is it?”

“A chimera.”

He turned to leave. But you didn’t want him to leave, not yet. Not when your mind was a tangle of answers half-buried in your notes. “Wait!”

He paused. You gestured him inside. “Tell me everything about the Chrysos Heirs.”

He hesitated at the threshold, that polite reluctance that said he would always defer if you gave him the chance. So you didn’t give him the chance. You set the egg down on your table then stepped closer. Close enough to see the faint blue shimmer under his eyes, the steady line of his throat.

He opened his mouth to speak and you moved first. Your palm brushed his wrist, pressing to the place you’d marked for this moment. You drew out the Dreaming Injector — your latest delicate invention. A click, the needle slid in. His knees gave way as the serum took hold, the last thing leaving his lips a soft exhale like falling rain.

You caught him, barely. He was heavy, you lowered him to the edge of your narrow bed. His hair brushed your shoulder as you eased him down, one arm draped awkwardly across your knee. Even unconscious, he looked composed. Like he could wake at any second and ask what you thought you were doing. But he didn’t.

You checked his pulse, breath, pupils. Good. The injector worked. You smoothed the wrap of his cloak aside. You sat beside him, your kit open on the floor. Maybe he really was just a man, but if Amphoreus had taught you anything, it was that nothing here stayed simple. Your pen scratched across your notes. Your other hand hovered over his chest, feeling that heat still radiating through the thin layers.

Just gather the data, you told yourself. Nothing more.

"I’m sorry for this." you murmured under your breath, not that Phainon could hear you. But you said it anyway.

You slipped your gloved fingers down the front of his robe. The ambient heat pulsed under your touch, your thumb brushing a peak where his skin twitched in response. Even unconscious, some buried instinct shivered under your palm, his breath catching once when your knuckles dragged lower.

You swallowed your hesitation. The reaction was there too, warmth stirring at the lightest press of your hand. You noted the sharp twitch, the faint flex of his thigh where it brushed your wrist.

Stimuli intact.

You leaned back, swapped tools, drew the next dose, a subtle stimulant mixed with your last calibration fluid. You pressed the injector to the soft skin of his inner arm. The serum vanished under his skin. He didn’t wake. Just breathed out, a faint shift of his hips against the bed. You smoothed his robes back down, the smallest shred of mercy for a test that probably made you worse than any invader he’d faced in centuries.

When he woke later, your chair was turned politely away, notes tucked under your palm. He stirred with a faint rustle of cloth.

“You fell asleep halfway through your story,” you said, “Long day, huh?”

You packed up your things, your mind already spinning ahead to what you might see next. He went back to his place.

Hours later, you sat crouched in a dim second-floor window across his room, your binoculars pressed to your brow. You were watching Phainon sitting rigidly on the edge of his bed.

The dose should have settled in by now. It shouldn’t hurt, you’d calculated that precisely, but you’d built it to test thresholds. How much could he really endure? The answer, apparently: a lot.

He stayed composed — back straight, hands folded in his lap. Once, he dragged a palm absently across his throat, his fingers curling tight, nails dragging at the fabric as if to bury the itch. But that was all.

You watched until the sky began to pale behind the roofs. By then, you already knew what you’d do next.

Morning, before anyone else stirred. You rapped your knuckles on Phainon’s door. A few beats later, it creaked open. He stepped aside wordlessly to let you in. He offered you water. You waved it off with a soft laugh, slipping past him into the small chamber that smelled faintly of last night’s candle wax.

“Actually — I’m here for a screw.”

You gestured vaguely at your wrist. “Fell out of my watch when you leaned on me, probably.”

Ever obliging, he dropped to one knee without protest, sweeping his long sleeves aside to check the narrow gap under the bedframe. You watched him carefully, the subtle tremor in his breath as he bent forward, the stiff line of his shoulders as the serum’s echo crawled along his nerves.

And when he reached deeper under the bed, his head turned away, you slipped the tiny vial from your sleeve, thumb flicking the stopper off the fine mist sprayer. A gentle puff — soft enough to vanish into the fabric of his collar. He froze mid-motion, then exhaled, body slumping, chin dipping to his chest as the soft, sweet haze pulled him down faster than the dreamer’s pulse had done last time.

You caught him again, steadying his shoulder before he folded fully onto the floor.

You glanced at the door, checked the latch, then let your eyes drift to the calm ruin of him sprawled at your knees.

Data first, you told yourself.

Amphoreus would keep its secrets, but you’d keep pushing.

You waited until his breathing evened out. The sleeping mist did its work perfectly. One test at a time. That’s what you told yourself, again and again, as you eased him fully onto the low bed. The stone floor was too cold, you needed him warm. Curse you, floor.

You pulled on your gloves. You tilted his chin up first, thumb brushing his lower lip open as you angled your penlight into the dark. No swelling in the throat, no unusual teeth. Normal. At least here. Good. You clicked off the light.

Next came the robes, it took you a while to get him ready. Layers peeled away carefully, the fabric folding into a neat pile on the bedside chair. He lay there exposed under the lamp. You can see the delicate line of muscle along his ribs, the faint twitch of a nerve under his navel. He was warm to the touch.

A light pinch to one nipple, your fingers rolling the peak until it stiffened under your touch. He didn’t flinch, but his breathing stuttered, chest rising sharper with each pass of your gloved thumb. Responsive. Normal. You noted the way his brow twitched, the smallest sound slipping from the back of his throat when your nails scraped lightly over the sensitive skin.

You worked lower, one hand bracing the sharp line of his hip, the other wrapping around him, fingers slick with carefully measured lubricant from your kit. You stroked him slow at first, watching for any sign that the dreamer’s haze might break. It didn’t. His hips flexed instead, instinct pushing up into your palm as your grip tightened, the warmth swelling under your careful press.

You tested the limits, the first pulse was quick, the sudden heat slicking your glove as he came with a soft, muffled sound caught behind his teeth. You paused, checked his pulse, brushed sweat-damp hair from his brow.

Sensitivity test.

You slicked your fingers again, pressed your palm flat against him until he twitched under the touch. The second wave built slower, hips rocking once, twice, a faint gasp curling from his throat as his body shuddered again.

“One more,” you whispered. “Just one more.”

You worked him mercilessly, every pass dragging him closer, your fingers slipping slick against his skin that twitched, flinched, begged silently with every low sigh that fell from his lips. When he came again, it was with a full-body tremor, sweat shining along his throat, his hands flexing uselessly against the sheets.

You checked his heartbeat again, fast, but steady. Good.

You sat back on your heels, taking your gloves off, your mind already cataloguing every tremor.

Nothing unsual spotted.

And yet, you couldn’t help the smallest ache in your chest when you brushed your knuckles against his jaw again.

One more test, you told yourself, then I’ll let him rest.

You opened the small velvet kit tucked in your bag. Sleek vibrators, custom-built, small enough to be hidden. You set them carefully, the metal still cool as you pressed the first tip gently in, watching the subtle clench of his muscles as you worked it deeper.

You left them off for now — invisible mode.

You climbed onto him carefully, straddling his hips, your knees bracing against the mattress, your weight pinning him in the softest mockery of control. He didn’t stir.

Next came the clothespins, well you were testing out your newest inventions so why not. You clipped one on each nipple, watched them darken and stiffen under the gentle pull. A soft, involuntary sound slipped from his throat.

You leaned forward, your tongue tracing the line of skin pulled taut by the pin, sucking gently until you felt him twitch under you. You worked them until they were swollen, flushed, helpless under your mouth. Then came the ointment, a thin layer brushed over each peak.

You shifted him upright, your palms bracing his shoulders, guiding his pliant body to sit half-slumped against the wall. One hand stayed wrapped around him, pumping slow strokes that dragged another low sound from his lips each time. When you felt him tighten, that subtle pulse that said the edge was near, you stopped. Let him twitch, breathe, whimper just once, then pushed him down again.

Ten times more, maybe. Okay maybe more than that, you couldn't remember.

Midway through, your phone's screen flickered Screwllum: « Report. Where are you? » You replied as your other hand curled around Phainon’s flushed length, stroking him halfway to another wave before stopping cruelly short. « Busy. Found the perfect specimen. Need more time. Will send results. » You set the phone aside.

When you were done, you wiped him clean. You dressed him carefully, layer by layer, you noticed his skin twitched at every brush of the fabric. The vibrators stayed hidden. You have no plan of using it now.

You slipped out the door, leaving him folded in sleep so deep he’d wake with no memory at all. You had results to file. And next time, maybe you’d see just how much further he could break.

----

You were talking about your theory with Dan Heng, but your mind kept drifting. To Phainon, obviously. Being a scientist, you couldn't rest until you find out the real cause of literally anything you set your mind on. You felt like you're just toying with him at the moment, but that wouldn't stop you from continue with whatever you're doing. You'll need to finish it yourself.

You three met Aglaea for the next urgent mission. Your eyes darted to Phainon. He seemed calm at first. But halfway through, you caught it: the subtle slackening of his posture, the way his eyes fluttered half-shut even as Caelus asked for explanation. You raised your hand before anyone could point it out. “Phainon looks exhausted. He can rest, we’ll handle the next target plan.”

No one questioned you. They trusted you with him.

You draped his cloak tighter around him, one arm at his back, guiding him through the halls while the stone corridors swallowed your footsteps. But once the others were out of sight, once you were sure no one would round the corner, your thumb slipped into your pocket and pressed the small hidden switch.

A silent pulse flickered through the signal in your palm. Deep inside him, the invisible hum answered. He slumped against you with a low, breathless sound, fingers digging at the fabric of your sleeve.

“Are you alright?” you asked, your tone laced with the faintest innocence.

You tucked him deeper into an alcove, your palm pressing flat to his chest to steady him. But you needed more. You glanced behind you, the old private bath just a few steps away. Perfect. You tugged him through, flipped the old wooden sign to tell people not to enter.

You pressed him to the wall, your hands running over his chest under the guise of checking his temperature, his heartbeat. His breathing hitched when you pressed your palm lower, brushing fabric that did nothing to hide the heat building underneath.

“Stay still for me.”

Your palm slid lower. When he came, it was muffled against your shoulder, his hips jerking once, twice, hot release soaking the fabric you pressed tight around him to keep it hidden.

“Close your eyes..” he whispered like it cost him everything to stay gentle. You obeyed. For a moment. Just long enough to peek again when you heard a desperate sound. Your eyes caught the subtle roll of his shoulders, the way he turned half-away, face flushed as he pumped himself.

He came again, the sound muffled in his palm as he locked eyes with you across the dim steam-lit corner.

“I didn’t mean to…” you started, but the lie faded when you stepped forward, your palm wrapping around him again, “But you need help, don’t you?”

He barely had time to nod when you sank to your knees, your fingers wrapping him tight as you guided him to your mouth. His gasp turned strangled when your tongue slid along him, the faintest tremor in his thighs as he braced against the wall.

He tried to stay gentle, you felt it, as if he didn’t dare break whatever fragile control still held him together. But when the vibrator inside him got the heat up, he bucked deeper as he spilled into your mouth.

“Spit it—”, but you’d already swallowed by instinct, “out..”

Your fingers pushed him back against the tile before he could say another word, your lips brushing the swollen peaks of his chest, tongue tracing the faint sheen of sweat until your teeth found the soft flesh of his nipple. He gasped, the sound half-strangled when you bit down, leaving a bright, sharp mark that would bruise if he looked for it later.

He shivered, twitching as you stroked him again.

“Stay still,” you murmured. “You’ll get better. Just trust me…”

Every new bite, every low hum of the thing inside him pushed him closer to unraveling completely.

“Keep your voice down,” you warned “You don’t want them to see you like this, do you?”

He shook his head, his fingers clutching at your shoulders. When you flicked the vibrator to its highest setting, the choked sound that left his throat told you everything you needed to know.

The private bath was warm, your breath misted faintly against Phainon’s flushed skin as you dragged your tongue across his chest one last time.

He shivered, hips twitching uselessly as you held him pinned with your knee between his thighs.

You pulled back just enough to reach for your next piece, a thin ring of metal. You don't know why you want to do this. Well, experimenting is never wrong. You stroked him once more, coaxing every last faint pulse of heat from him before slipping the device over him. He flinched and he realized how firmly it locked him down, no chance to rut into your palm again.

You leaned forward, your lips warm against the sweat-slick curve of his nipple, tongue circling slow until it hardened under your mouth. You sucked until he trembled, hips flexing uselessly under the trap you’d left him in.

“Y/n.. Y/n, please...”

His fingers tangled in your hair, a desperate tether as his head lolled back against the tile. When he leaned forward, you let him kiss you. Just as you expected, you pressed the tiny dissolving pill onto his tongue with your thumb, your teeth grazing his lip as you coaxed him to swallow it down. He obeyed instinctively, too far gone to think about the faint bitterness coating his throat.

You pulled back, your eyes flicking over his flushed chest, the tender peaks red from your teeth and tongue. You retrieved your next toys, some small, jelly-soft cups, one for each nipple. The suction was gentle at first, then tightening that made him twitch and gasp, hips jerking helplessly against the locked device you’d left on him.

When you were done, you stepped back. Nice. You nodded to yourself.

You helped him dress, cloak folded carefully to hide the subtle twitch of his body as the jelly cups pulsed gently under his robes. The pill already dragging him down into that soft, drifting sleep you’d planned for him.

You guided him through the corridors, one arm around his waist to keep him steady. He said nothing, just let himself be led like a half-conscious ghost until you reached his chambers. You laid him down on the bed, smoothed the hair from his brow, checked his pulse.

You settled in the chair beside his bed, your kit open in your lap, your notes spread out under the faint flicker of your penlight.

“Check, check.. Let's see what should we do next...”

You adjusted the signal on your tablet, the small receivers hidden inside the jelly cups and the ring sending back soft pulses of heartbeat, tiny electric signals mapping every flicker of his nerves as they twitched helplessly against the constraints you’d left him in.

Develop the senses, your pen scratching notes beside his steady, muffled breathing. Rebuild the vessel.

One test at a time, genius.

You finally showed a content smile.

“I'm so good at this.”

And when he stirred, shifting faintly in his sleep as the cups tugged at him, the locked ring humming its faint warning when his body tried to push uselessly for release, you only watched.

“Not now, Phainon.”

---

He woke slowly, the faintest tug at his wrists telling him he wasn’t free. Cool stone under his back, the faint hush of your breathing close. He turned his head, tried to speak, to ask why — but the words dissolved in the hush between you.

“Alright, I'm almost done. I'll be leaving soon.” You smiled “If you really don’t want it.. I'll let you go. But—” You leaned closer and loosened the restraints. “You don’t get to come. Endure it. Prove you can.”

He stared at you. You traced your finger under his jaw, then stepped back, letting him sit up.

You pulled the small illusion projector from your sleeve, flipped the tiny switch that shimmered the air around him in a gentle ripple of false cloth. On the inside, he was bare, every brush of the cool air across his flushed skin a reminder that only you knew he was like this.

“I invented this for a customer, I told him he was crazy. But seeing you in this, maybe it's not a bad idea.”

You guided him to the door, your hand pressing flat against the small of his back, you whispered against the shell of his ear. “Go on. Let’s see how long you can endure this.”

Outside, the Marmoreal Market, people come and go.

Then you flicked the signal. Deep inside him, the trio of slender vibrators buried where he couldn’t reach vibrated, making his knees buckle for half a second before he steadied himself with a sharp inhale. His knuckles whitened where he brushed a hand along the low stall wall, covering the way his hips twitched under the false drape of his projected cloak.

He nearly collided with a small cluster of children, three of them darting around him, giggling as they bumped against his side. You only smiled at him, stepping closer, brushing your palm along the curve of his lower back as if to steady him.

The pulse inside him grew stronger. Every few steps you’d let your fingers brush his arm, his ribs, the faint swell under his navel where the tremor inside him left his muscles taut. He breathed through his nose, relieved a half-choked gasp when you leaned close enough to whisper: “I'm not done yet.”

He made it almost to the edge of the market. So close. So close to passing your test.

You let him think he’d won, one more turn, a narrow corridor, then you pressed your palm to his chest, your thumb flicking sharply over the hidden peak under his clothes.

He buckled. A low, raw sound slipped free, half-moan, half-breathless choke as the trapped heat inside him surged. His hips stuttered, the illusion flickering faintly before the projector compensated, his real naked skin flushed under layers only you could peel away.

“Failed.” you murmured, your voice so soft it made his thighs tremble where they brushed yours. You hooked your finger under the choker at his throat, tugged him forward until your lips crashed into his, your tongue stealing every broken whimper before he could swallow them down.

Your other hand worked him mercilessly, stroking him slow at first, then faster, your palm slick with the heat you’d built in him. He broke the kiss to gasp your name.

“I thought you didn’t like this…” you breathed against his mouth, your thumb brushing the edge of his flushed tip, your grip stroking faster. “So why do you look like you’re begging for it?”

He shuddered, hips jerking helplessly under your touch, the hidden vibrators inside him now thrumming at their highest pitch.

You dragged your teeth along his jaw, nipping at the soft skin just under his ear as your hand twisted around him.

“Be quick now,” you whispered, tongue flicking against the shell of his ear as your other hand tugged his choker tight enough to make him gasp. “Or someone might come around the corner. They’d see you like this.. fucked open and drooling for it. Is that what you want?”

He couldn’t answer. His body answered for him - thighs trembling, his voice lost in the soft echo of the corridor as he came apart in your hand, the illusion flickering just enough to let the raw flush of his skin slip through.

You caught his mouth again, swallowing the last shuddering sound as his knees gave way, your grip the only thing keeping him upright while his mind spiraled somewhere you’d built for him.

“Y/n L/n, member of the Genius Society. Pleasure to be working with you.”

----

The marble floors of his house were still warm from the afternoon sun when you shoved him through the door, your palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades, “Inside.”

He obeyed, steps echoing through the polished corridor until you pushed him through the bathroom threshold. You meant to wash him.

You turned on the taps, steam billowing as the water filled the carved stone basin. The moment you dragged a damp cloth over his chest, you felt it, the subtle twitch under your palm, the heavy pulse that told you he’d hardened again just from the heat of your touch.

Before you could push him down again, he moved, his hands wrapping around your wrist, pulling you forward so abruptly that you stumbled. The warm water splashed up your sleeves, soaking through your collar as he dragged you right into the bath with him.

The hiss of your slap echoed off the stone, his cheek flushing faintly pink where your fingers had left their mark.

“Don’t forget,” your fingers curling under his chin to force him to look at you. “I’m the only one who decides how far this goes. Not you. Understand?”

He nodded. He stayed still when you turned your back to him, slipping into the bath properly this time. But the moment your spine brushed against him, the slick heat of the water drawing your skin tight, he twitched again, grinding helplessly against you.

You let him, for a moment. Let him rut clumsily until the tremor shuddered through him and he came, soft and muffled under his breath, his forehead pressed to the back of your neck. You didn’t turn around. You stand, peeling off your wet clothes piece by piece, feeling his eyes drag over every inch of skin you’d hidden until now. You didn’t look at him as you cleaned yourself.

When you stepped out, you toweled yourself dry, then dragged him out too, wiping the damp from his chest, his throat, the faint pink welt still high on his cheek. You did feel guilty though, seeing him looking at you with such sad puppy eyes.

You pulled one of his shirts from a nearby hook. On you, it smelled faintly of him.

Later, you went out of the bathroom to take you kit. When you got in the room again, you pressed him back against the wall, flicked open your kit and released two small machine-bugs, slick and jelly-soft. They crawled to his nipples, the subtle hum of their tiny motors latching on, forming a soft vacuum that made him twitch.

You’d just adjusted the seal when a voice echoed faintly through the house. Mydei.

“You in there?”

Your head snapped up, your palm bracing against Phainon’s chest.

“Answer him.”

You slipped behind the half-open bathroom door, pressing your back to the cool marble as you watched him shuffle to the entrance. He cleared his throat once “Yeah, I'm busy.”

Mydei laughed, the sound drifting through the small gap. “Busy? Since when do you lock yourself up?”

You slipped up behind Phainon then, so quiet he barely flinched when your fingers hooked into the hem of your shirt, pushing it up just enough. You pressed against him, the softness of your hips fitting to his length again as you guided him lower.

“You can use me. But keep your voice down.”

He hesitated. Obviously, you just wanted to tease him, but he let the heat took over.

You clenched down around him, your breath catching as you forced him deeper, the quiet slide muffled by the soft fabric still tangled at your waist. His hands gripped the doorframe, words caught in his throat as you rocked your hips back, forcing him to grind deeper inside you.

Mydei kept talking. Every word blurred at the edges when Phainon choked out a reply. Each time he stumbled over a word, you clenched tighter. His breath stuttered, his words caught halfway through your name but he swallowed it down, sweat slicking his hair to his temple.

When Mydei’s footsteps finally faded, you didn’t let Phainon pull away. You dragged him back into the half-dark of the bathroom, your palm bracing his chest as you rocked harder, the slap of skin muffled under the hum of the bugs still latched tight to his nipples.

You pressed your mouth to his, swallowed the moan when he came undone inside you, warmth spilling deep while his chest heaved, the devices buzzing mercilessly until he collapsed half against the tile.

“Good job.”

When you told him to keep the bugs on, he’d nodded, obedient as ever.

----

Two days later, the signal from the Express had gone quiet again. Nothing went your way. You’d lingered at the edge of the Eternal Holy City, half-thinking about the flame reaver the boys had mentioned, half-lost in the memory of Phainon’s breathless gasps pressed under your palm.

You found him coming back to his place from somewhere, probably Aglaea called for him. You trusted in whatever she's doing, she's not a threat to you.

Phainon sort of paused when he saw you coming his way. You could see the faint flush in his cheeks, the soft tremor in his steps when he opened the door to you. He didn’t even ask why you were there, just stepped aside, letting you in.

“Sit.”

He obeyed, folding neatly to his knees at your feet, eyes flicking from the small cake to your face like he was searching for some hidden permission.

“Y/n... I... I want to do it.”

You turned, patted his head lightly.

“Later,” you hummed, half-turning back to the door. “I only brought you dessert.”

“Wasn’t I good enough?” he asked suddenly.

You paused, your fingers still on the door. Then you turned, dragging your eyes over the soft drape of his robes, the faint flicker of defiance trying so hard to spark under that half-ruined self-control.

You stepped forward, brushing his cheek. Then you reached for the slim tool strapped under your sleeve, the small, precise edge of your laser cutter flickering to life with a quiet whirr.

“Stay still.”

He didn’t move when you pressed the warm hum of the blade to the soft fabric at his groin, sliced a neat line where the heavy folds of his trousers hid him from your view.

“This still works, what a surprise.”

You ruined his clothes anyway.

You set the blade aside, lifted the small cake from its box. You caught his eyes, held them there as you dipped your fingers into the frosting, then smeared it, swirl along the length of him.

A faint, strangled gasp slipping out as the cool sweetness met the raw heat of his skin. Your thumb dragged, smearing the cream over the tip, pressing just enough friction. It didn’t take long, the soft smear of frosting mixing with the sharp warmth of him as he spilled against your palm, hips bucking helplessly into the slow drag of your touch.

You paused, studied him. Then you brought your fingers to your lips — the faint taste of sugar and salt on your tongue before you swallowed it down, eyes never leaving his. You hadn’t planned to, but the look on his face made you want him to know you’d taken everything from him.

He shuddered, a soft, helpless sound at the back of his throat that might’ve been your name. You pressed your palm to his cheek, then cleaned him up with a towel.

“On the floor.”

With his knees spread, back straight, eyes half-hopeful when he watched you uncoil the next piece from your kit.

A slender mechanical snake, slick segments glistening faintly under the light, a soft hiss of pistons when you primed the internal motor. It flickered in your hand. You pressed the smooth tip to him. You guided it down, watched it swallow him inch by inch, the soft internal chambers pulsing around him until he whined, hips rolling forward before your palm pressed him firmly back. The machine sealed tight, released cool fluid inside that made him flinch as it soaked him in artificial slickness, its sensors hidden in the inner rings mapping every twitch.

His hands clutching at the carpet, thighs trembling as the device squeezed around him. When he shifted like he wants to remove his clothes, you slapped his wrist away.

“Leave them on. I like you like this.”

Every time the snake contracted around him, milking him slowly, coaxing him to spill over and over, you'd record it through your pen to measure which area is the most sensitive of his.

Each pulse drew more heat from him, the faint sound of liquid cycling through the tubes as the device collected every drop. Your head tilted as you made more notes on your datapad, eyes flicking to his flushed throat where his choker still rested.

He came again, and again, until the soft mechanical coils slackened, the faint light inside flicking to green to signal its reservoir full. The hum faded, leaving only his ragged breath echoing in the hush of the room.

You reached forward, brushing your palm over his hair.

“Well done.”

You were setting the specimen cylinder down on the side table, carefully logging the seal with your thumbprint, your mind already shifting through what calibrations you’d run next. Right, his blood.

Then you felt it, the subtle noise as he moved closer. His palm ghosting over your waist at first, then it turned frantic. He easily tugged down piece of your clothing.

“Phainon—” you started, your hand flying up to push him off you, but you barely got the name out before his hips slammed forward.

His fingers dug into your hips, he rocked into you, each thrust clumsy and desperate, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he panted your name.

“Stop—” your breath hitching as another deep thrust forced your body forward. “Phainon, stop this—”

But he didn’t, he didn’t even pause when you shoved at his wrist, only moaned your name louder.

Your voice dropped into a warning growl “Someone could come in— they’ll see you like this—”

But he only laughed, his hips snapping harder as his voice shivered against your neck: “Let them. I don’t care. You’re mine.” His words dissolved as he pushed deeper, the tip of him brushing so deep inside you.

When he came, the heat of him spilling deep enough you had to brace both palms on the edge of the bed just to hold yourself steady while he pulsed out every last drop. His breath came in ragged, his hands still clutching your hips.

You grabbed his hair, forced him to lift his head, “Look what you did.”

You turned, forcing him back with your palm, making him watch as you slipped your fingers in and scraped every warm drip of him back out.

You wiped your fingers clean, flicked the mess into the basin nearby, then reached for his shirt, the only piece left intact after he’d shredded yours. You slipped it on, the fabric hanging loose over your hips.

Then you pointed to the floor at your feet. “On your knees. Now.”

He listened, but his eyes never left yours as he lowered himself until he was kneeling where you pointed, his thighs spread wide enough that you could see the faint tremor still twitching along the base of him.

You stepped closer, lowered yourself, one hand tangling in his hair to yank his head back just enough to see your eyes. Then your other hand came down hard across the curve of his ass, the sharp crack echoing through the hush of the room. You struck him again, just enough force to see the pale skin flush red under your palm.

“You don’t get to take what you want,” your fingers digging into his jaw to force him to hold your gaze. “You’ll earn it. Or you’ll crawl for it.”

You gave another sharp slap, his hips jerking forward as the pain seared through him.

His apology came out as he knelt there, skin flushed, eyes glassy under the soft light glow. You tilted your head, pretending to listen, your fingers slipping down to brush along the slick head of his cock.

He flinched, hips twitching up into your touch before you pushed him back down. Your thumb dragged over the tip, enough to tease out another shuddering moan. When his hips bucked again — chasing your touch — you wrapped your hand around his balls instead, squeezing just enough that the desperate wave building in him slammed to a halt with a helpless, broken whimper.

“Not yet.” your thumb pressing firmly under the base to keep him from spilling even a drop. He trembled under your palm.

You brushed his shirt aside, exposing the soft, flushed peaks you’d come to claim as yours. You leaned down, lips wrapping around one nipple, tongue swirling in circles while your teeth scraped just enough to make him cry out.

The wet pull of your mouth, the faint suction, the way your tongue flicked until the sensitive peak tightened like it wanted to feed you something he didn’t even have to give. His voice cracked, your name tumbling out, raw and breathless as his hips rolled uselessly, desperate for the permission you still hadn’t given.

Your lips brushing the edge of his ear as you murmured, “Now.”

He didn’t hesitate, never did when you dropped the leash.

When he was all exhausted, you tucked him to bed and slipped free.

---

You and Caelus were following the clues sent by Screwllum.

The connection had been dead for days, but you were more than capable of getting it back in no time.

Caelus nudged your shoulder. “So… what’s with him?”

You followed his gaze, catching on the figure slipping closer.

Phainon, his hair was damped from sweat, uniform half-undone where new bruises bloomed under his collar. Probably back from a fight. But it wasn’t the bruises you watched, it was his eyes.

“Is he… angry at me?” Caelus asked, blinking at Phainon’s stare.

“Maybe.”

You caught Phainon’s eyes, tilted your head just enough to draw him closer, your fingers curling in a slow come here motion that made Caelus blink again in confusion.

“You go ahead,” you said to Caelus. “I’ve got unfinished business to handle.”

Caelus gave you a look — that half-teasing suspicion — but shrugged it off “Don’t take too long, or Dan Heng will chew us both out.”

You turned just in time to feel Phainon’s shadow fall over you. You reached up and brushed the stray lock of silver hair from his eyes. Your fingertips lingered at his temple, brushing the sweat-damp strand behind his ear.

He shuddered under that tiny touch. His arms slid around you, pulling you in until you felt the sharp tremor under his ribs. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath catching when your other hand slipped down until your palm ghosted over the heavy, twitching heat between his legs.

He gasped — a soft, broken plea spilling out against your cheek. “Please…”

You could feel it, the raw need pressed hard into your palm, the faint shudder when you squeezed, just enough to feel him pulse against your fingers.

You clicked your tongue, your thumb pressing firm at his base, forcing him to feel every ounce of your control as you leaned in close enough for your lips to brush his ear.

“Behave. Or I’ll make sure the whole city sees what you really are.”

You pressed one last, mocking kiss to his forehead.

Your work on Amphoreus was done. You’d carved out exactly what you needed from this place.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #phainon hsr #phainon x reader #phainon honkai star rail #hsr smut #phainon smut

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uncuredturkeybacon · 3 months ago

Text

𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜

in which you talk trash but she isn't afraid to talk back

warning : sexual content included - minors dni

By the time the buzzer rang to open the Aces vs. Wings game, the entire league had been waiting for this moment.

The reigning MVP versus the new golden girl.

You stood at half court, bouncing on your heels with your signature grin tugging at your mouth. Your braid was pulled tight. Your sneakers already squeaked with heat. The ball hadn’t even tipped, and you were locked in, eyes narrowing across the line at Paige Bueckers.

“Ready to see what the WNBA really feels like, rookie?” you called, voice casual, but loud enough that the nearest camera mic picked it up.

Paige just rolled her eyes. “You done rehearsing that line in the mirror?”

Your smirk widened. “Oh, I’ve got a whole setlist ready for you.”

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to. Her hands settled on her hips, her expression unreadable beneath the calm ice of competition she wore so well. But you knew the look. That stubborn Bueckers fire was already catching.

First possession, you made a show of it.

Between-the-legs dribble, behind the back, hesitation at the arc. Paige didn’t bite. But the second she leaned the wrong way—barely, just a twitch—you stepped back and drained a three right over her outstretched fingers.

“Welcome to the league,” you called, backpedaling. “First lesson’s free.”

The crowd erupted. Camera flashes. Someone on the Dallas bench whistled. You winked.

It was electric.

Paige came back harder, of course. Her first possession ended in a sharp cut to the elbow and a smooth jumper, her footwork so precise it looked choreographed. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. She just glanced your way as she jogged down court like, your turn.

The game unfolded like a symphony of pettiness and skill. You pushed her. She shoved back. You jab-stepped and faked. She clamped down on your drives. It was basketball in its purest, grittiest form—trash talk over rhythm, mind games wrapped around talent.

You stole a pass from her in the second quarter and went coast to coast, finishing with a spin move layup that sent the Aces’ bench to their feet.

“Gotta protect your lunch, Bueckers,” you said on your way back down. “You’re in the big leagues now.”

She didn’t break stride. “Pretty bold for someone who needs the whole highlight reel just to score.”

“Ouch,” you said. “You rehearse that one too?”

Mid-third quarter, she clipped you on a drive—light, but enough that you stumbled. The whistle didn’t come. You both kept going. Next possession, you bumped her hard on a screen.

“That for the foul or the ego?” she muttered under her breath, eyes locked on you.

“Bit of both,” you said, grinning. “But mostly the ego.”

There was something in the way you danced around each other—tension, sure. But not the hateful kind. The kind that buzzed with familiarity, with too much awareness. The way she stole glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking. The way you always knew exactly where she was on the court without trying.

You were in her head. She was getting in yours too.

By the fourth quarter, it was still tight. 81-80. Your shoulders were damp with sweat, but your eyes were clear. Laser-focused.

A timeout was called with thirty seconds left. You and Paige walked to your benches, but not before you brushed shoulders at mid-court.

“You get extra points for rookie takedowns?” Paige asked, low.

“No,” you said, mouth curling. “But I do count them.”

She huffed a laugh and didn’t look away.

You finished with 24 points, 7 assists, 3 steals. Paige had 18 and 6.

You won the game.

But afterward, when you walked past her in the tunnel and caught her already watching you—arms crossed, sweat still clinging to her hairline—you didn’t throw another jab.

You just slowed.

She raised a brow. “What, no more trash talk?”

You shrugged, eyes dropping to her lips for half a second too long. “I save some for the rematch.”

Paige tilted her head, stepping closer. “I’ll be ready.”

You leaned in, voice a low hum. “Hope so. Would hate to keep schooling you like this.”

And just for a heartbeat—one quiet, pulsing moment—neither of you said anything else.

But everything shifted.

Paige sat between DiJonai and Arike, a towel draped around her neck and a tightly wound rubber band holding back her hair. She had showered, sure, but the flush on her cheeks hadn’t faded—not from the cardio. Not from you.

The press room was hot. Cameras clicked. Reporters raised their hands. Paige tried to focus.

“Tough game out there tonight, Paige. How would you describe going up against the reigning MVP?”

Paige’s lips twitched.

“She’s… a lot,” Paige said, her tone dancing that tightrope between admiration and irritation. “Talks a mile a minute. Doesn’t shut up.” She paused, letting the laughter build. “But she backs it up. You can’t really be mad when someone’s cooking and making it look that easy.”

Nai grinned beside her. “She called you rookie at least six times on the court.”

“Seven,” Paige corrected under her breath.

“Eight,” Arike added, scrolling on her phone. “Twitter’s keeping count.”

Laughter in the room.

Another reporter chimed in, smirking. “Any chance this is the start of a new rivalry?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Is it a rivalry if she keeps winning?”

“She said she’s saving more talk for the rematch,” the reporter added.

Paige’s smirk deepened before she could stop it. “Then I guess I better be ready for a whole TED Talk next time.”

Cue another wave of chuckles, and Nai glancing over like, “Girl…”

You strolled in like you weren’t fresh off twenty-four points and a nationally televised clinic. One hand in your hoodie pocket, the other holding a Gatorade. Cool, cocky, unreadable—until they asked about her.

“That was your first time going head-to-head with Paige Bueckers in the W. Thoughts?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“She’s solid,” you said, sipping. “Moves well off the ball. Smart with the rock. She’s gonna be a problem once she stops getting cooked by me.”

Laughter erupted.

“She said you talk too much,” another reporter added.

“She said that?” you said, feigning offense. “Damn. Thought we were bonding.”

You leaned back in your chair, gaze unfocused for a beat before landing on the reporter again. “Nah, she’s tough. But I like testing people. See what they’re made of.”

“And?”

“And she didn’t fold,” you admitted. “She took everything I threw at her and came back sharper each quarter. It was fun.”

Someone from the back asked, “Any truth to the rumors that you two were seen talking in the tunnel post-game?”

You cocked your head, slowly grinning. “We talkin’ basketball? Or… talking?”

The room laughed nervously. You just winked. “Next question.”

@/user: Paige: “She’s a lot. Doesn’t shut up. But she backs it up.” Y/N: “Is she talking about basketball or feelings?”

@/user: THE TENSION. THE BANTER. THE RIVALRY. I’M SICK. GIVE ME A 7-GAME SERIES.

@/user: The MVP vs. The Rookie. We need a documentary already. #TrashTalk #WNBArivalries

@/user: Not Paige smiling like that when they asked about the MVP. She’s so cooked. #WNBA #AcesVsWings

Her room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen. Paige lay on her side, one arm tucked under her cheek, scrolling through a storm of notifications.

Clips of you calling her “rookie.”

Clips of her face after you hit that step-back three.

Clips of her biting back a smile when the reporters pressed.

And then—your post.

@/yn “Welcome to the league.” [Photo: You, mid-dribble, eyes locked on Paige. Captioned with a single flame emoji.]

The comment section was on fire.

@/user: she’s so disrespectful and yet… correct

@/user: the look she gives Paige at half court… I FELT THAT

@/user: why do I feel like they’re gonna kiss and then fight and then kiss again

Paige stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the Like button.

She didn’t like it. She didn’t comment. She did something worse. She opened your DM.

paige: cute caption. did your media team come up with that or are you just naturally annoying?

She hovered.

Deleted “annoying,” typed “relentless.”

Deleted that too.

paige: cute caption. you always this cocky or do i bring it out of you?

She hit send.

And instantly regretted it.

Until the little typing… bubble popped up.

You replied almost right away.

you: i was gonna ask the same thing you always this flustered or do i bring it out of you?

Paige bit her lip.

Her fingers hovered again.

paige: i’m not flustered

You replied immediately.

you: then why’d you wait till 1:30 am to message me?

She stared at it.

Paused.

paige: had to wait until i cooled off. you ran circles around me all night.

you: oh baby. you have no idea what i plan for the rematch.

might have to start charging rent with how much space i’m taking up in your head

Paige groaned. Tossed her phone face down. Picked it up again thirty seconds later.

paige: cool. i’ll bring the eviction notice. and maybe dinner. idk. depends how the game goes.

You liked the message.

And for the first time all night… Paige smiled.

The Vegas skyline blinked through your window, lights still alive long after the city should’ve slept. You were stretched on your couch, hoodie draped over your chest, fingers absently spinning a basketball on the tips.

Your phone buzzed.

Incoming FaceTime: Paige Bueckers

You didn’t hesitate.

The screen lit up with Paige’s face—soft from the glow of her bedside lamp, one cheek pressed into a pillow, blonde curls mussed, barely holding her eyes open.

She blinked once, smirked. “Did I wake you?”

You arched a brow. “You think I sleep before 2am? Cute.”

She let out a soft laugh. “You looked cozy.”

You stretched, deliberately cracking your neck. “Just waiting on your call, actually.”

She snorted, and you caught the slight flush on her cheeks. “You were not.”

“Was too. Knew you’d cave eventually.”

Paige rolled her eyes and adjusted her grip on the phone, the screen bouncing slightly. “I’m not caving. I’m scouting. Big difference.”

“Oh, so you called to study film?” You grinned. “How’d I look from your angle?”

Paige laughed, tucking the blanket tighter around her. “Like someone who says way too much and doesn’t shut up.”

“You liked it though.”

She hesitated. You caught it—just the smallest pause, the kind that said don’t get cocky but also you’re not wrong.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I liked beating your screens. Liked catching you off guard with that crossover. Liked that look you gave me when I stripped the ball in the third.”

You stared at her for a moment. “You replay that in your head a lot?”

“More than I should,” she admitted. Quiet. Barely a breath.

Silence stretched between you like a string pulled taut.

“You ever think about how we’d be on the same team?” you asked, voice lower now.

Paige blinked. “You mean if I’d gone first in the draft?”

You nodded. “Could’ve been assists for days. You setting me up for corner threes. I could’ve made your stat sheet look beautiful.”

“I do just fine without you,” she said, but it was softer than usual. Playful. Curious.

“Do you?”

Paige held your gaze. No grin. No smirk.

Just... honesty.

“You got under my skin,” she said.

“I know.”

“And I didn’t hate it.”

Your voice dropped. “Good. Because I’m not done.”

Her smile returned—small, tired, real. “What’s next then?”

“Rematch in three weeks,” you said. “In Dallas.”

“I meant after that.”

Your chest tightened.

You ran a hand through your hair, suddenly aware of how much she was looking at you. Really looking.

“I guess,” you said slowly, “I ask if dinner after the game is still on the table.”

Paige’s lashes fluttered, amused and warm all at once. “Depends. You still planning to talk the entire time?”

“Only if I’m trying to distract you.”

She smiled. “You already do.”

A beat.

Then she yawned, blinking heavy eyes. “Okay. I have to sleep or I’m gonna show up to practice tomorrow thinking about you again.”

“Don’t act like that’s new.”

“Shut up,” she whispered, cheeks pink.

You grinned. “Sleep good, rookie.”

“Night, MVP.”

And when the call ended, neither of you slept for a while.

You both just laid there. Smiling. Thinking.

Plotting.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when Paige texted “Come over. Dinner?” but it definitely wasn’t her answering the door barefoot, in sweats and a tank top, holding a wooden spoon like she’d been born in a kitchen.

She looked… soft.

“Don’t say anything,” she warned as you stepped inside.

You smirked, glancing around the cozy Dallas apartment. “What, no red carpet? No velvet ropes for the MVP?”

She shoved your shoulder lightly. “Keep talking and you’ll be eating cereal.”

You leaned against the doorframe that led to the kitchen, arms crossed. “That’s bold, considering you texted me.”

“I was trying to be nice,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the pot on the stove. “I regret it already.”

You watched her stir something that smelled like garlic, tomato, and whatever softness she wasn’t saying out loud.

“You cook now?”

“I survive,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “You want wine?”

“Paige Bueckers offers wine before a game?” you teased, walking in slowly, deliberately, letting the tension simmer.

“Just one glass,” she said. “Don’t get clingy.”

You stepped up behind her, reaching for the bottle on the counter beside her. “I only get clingy if I win.”

She looked at you from the corner of her eye. “You planning on winning tomorrow?”

You poured two glasses and handed her one. “You planning on stopping me?”

Her fingers brushed yours as she took the glass. Neither of you moved for a second too long.

Paige broke it. “Sit down. Dinner’s almost done.”

You sat, but not before trailing your fingers along the back of one of her kitchen chairs—watching her the whole time.

Pasta. Something with a kick. You hadn’t expected that either.

“You surprise me,” you said between bites.

Paige shrugged. “You think I don’t know how to live alone?”

“I mean you do have a deal with DoorDash.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I like quiet. Cooking helps with that.”

You leaned back in your chair, glass in hand. “You get a lot of quiet now?”

She hesitated. Stirred her pasta. “More than I thought I would.”

You didn’t ask what she meant. Not directly. But she looked up, and you knew she saw the question in your eyes.

“Everyone expects so much,” she said softly. “On the court, off of it. Sometimes I just wanna…” she trailed off.

“Be a person,” you finished.

Paige nodded. “Exactly.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just let the silence sit between you.

You asked, “So why me?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You invited me over. Of all people. Loud. Cocky. Trash-talker extraordinaire.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes yet. “I thought I’d be the last person you’d want around when you’re looking for quiet.”

She held your gaze.

“Because,” Paige said slowly, “you’re loud, yeah. But you’re honest. And you’re one of the few people who doesn’t expect me to be perfect.”

You leaned forward, elbows on the table. “That why you couldn’t stop looking at me during the last game?”

She smiled, sheepish now. “Part of it.”

Your heart beat a little harder.

“So what is this then?” you asked, quieter now. “Us?”

Paige stood up slowly, collecting your plates. Her back was to you when she answered.

“I don’t know yet,” she said honestly. “But I wanted to see you again. Without cameras. Without noise. Just… this.”

You got up too, coming to stand beside her at the sink. “You could’ve just said you missed me.”

“I could’ve,” she said, bumping your hip with hers. “But then I’d owe you another glass of wine.”

You laughed, low and warm. “You owe me that either way.”

You stood there, hoodie back on, keys in hand. Paige leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, hair tucked behind one ear.

Neither of you moved.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she said, eyes softer now.

You leaned in, barely an inch between you. “You mean that?”

She smirked. “No.”

You grinned. “Good. Because I don’t either.”

A beat.

Her voice dropped. “But I’ll be watching you.”

You met her gaze, serious now. “I always do.”

And you left.

But neither of you stopped thinking about the other for the rest of the night.

The arena was already humming before the tip. Dallas fans packed the seats, jerseys and signs waving, anticipation thick in the air. Everyone was here for the rematch.

Aces vs. Wings.

You vs. Paige Bueckers.

Again.

Only this time, it wasn’t just a headline. It was personal.

You were warming up on the sideline, sinking threes like they owed you rent, when you spotted her.

Paige.

Stepping onto the court in navy and white, hair in a high ponytail, face unreadable except for the unmistakable twitch of a smirk when her eyes met yours.

She walked past your half of the court without breaking stride, but she said just loud enough for you to hear. “Hope you stretched. I don’t carry people who cramp up in the third.”

You grinned, spinning the ball in your hand. “You planning on keeping up with me this time, rookie?”

She turned to walk backward, meeting your stare mid-stride. “I’m planning on dropping 20 while shutting you up. Two birds. One game.”

“You flirt like you defend,” you called after her. “Too slow.”

Her laugh echoed behind her as she joined her team.

And just like that, the game was on.

You drew first blood.

Step-back three from the left wing. Nothing but net.

You didn’t even look at the basket.

You looked at her.

She raised a brow and pointed to her chest. “Me?”

You nodded. “All day.”

Paige responded with a mid-range pull-up off a screen that made your rookie guard stumble.

She jogged back past you, leaning in for a split second. “That one was for you. Little love tap.”

You bumped her shoulder. “You flirt like you finish—average.”

She grinned. “I’ll show you finish.”

The trash talk wasn’t the only thing heating up.

You stole the ball, fast break, blew a kiss as you laid it in.

She hit a contested three from deep and winked as she backpedaled. “Try guarding me next time.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet laughing. “You’re cute when you lie.”

“You’re cute when you lose.”

“Wouldn’t know the feeling.”

The arena didn’t know who to root for—every moment between you two was its own show. Cameras didn’t just follow the ball anymore. They followed the glances. The words. The closeness.

You were defending her now, full-body contact, not because you had to—but because you wanted to be that close.

“You always breathe this heavy when I’m on you?” she whispered.

You didn’t blink. “Only when I’m bored.”

She chuckled and faked a step—then leaned in and drew a foul.

“Touchy, aren’t you?” she teased as the whistle blew.

“I could say the same.”

Thirty seconds left. You had the ball.

Paige was guarding you, chest to chest, eyes locked on yours.

“Go on,” she said, breathless. “Show me something.”

You dribbled once. Twice. Crossed over.

“Still haven’t figured it out?” you murmured. “It’s never about the first move. It’s the last one.”

And just like that—spin, pivot, fadeaway from the baseline.

Cash.

The crowd lost it.

Tie game.

Paige just shook her head. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“You love it.”

She hesitated.

“...Yeah,” she said. “Kinda do.”

You lost—barely. Paige had hit the game-winning assist in the final second. But as the buzzer rang, neither of you looked at the scoreboard first.

You looked at each other.

She found you at half court, still flushed, still catching her breath.

“Dinner’s on you,” she said, grin wide and triumphant.

You tilted your head. “I drop 28 and lose by one, and you get the prize?”

She stepped closer. “I always get the prize.”

You eyed her. “So what am I?”

She didn’t flinch. “The main course.”

You blinked. Laughing, stunned, heart racing.

“Well damn, Bueckers,” you muttered. “You keep that up and I might actually let you win next time.”

She leaned in, voice barely above the noise. “Or we stop keeping score and just… see where this goes.”

And that?

That stopped everything.

Even the noise in your chest.

The cameras stopped at the court’s edge.

Reporters peeled off toward locker rooms.

But you?

You waited.

Leaning against the cool cinderblock wall deep in the bowels of the Dallas arena tunnel, sweat still drying on your skin, adrenaline still humming in your blood. The beat of the game was gone, but something else—something louder—was still thudding in your chest.

You heard her before you saw her.

Quick footsteps. A laugh. The soft thunk of her water bottle against the wall as she rounded the corner, alone.

Paige froze the second she saw you.

"Stalking me now?" she asked, trying for lightness. Her voice came out breathier than expected.

You pushed off the wall slowly. “Just figured you owed me a goodbye.”

“From the girl who called me a rookie all night?” she teased, stepping closer.

You didn’t smile. Not really. “From the girl who can’t stop thinking about how you looked when you hit that last assist.”

Paige licked her lips, heart in her throat. “That pass?”

You nodded. “The way your face lit up when it went in.”

Her laugh was softer now. “You watched my face?”

“Always.”

She stood just a foot away now.

The tunnel buzzed with overhead fluorescents, but the corner you were in was quiet. Tucked. Yours.

“I like when you talk,” Paige said, eyes sharp and unblinking.

“I like when you listen,” you said, voice lower now. “Even when you pretend you’re not.”

Her hand brushed your forearm.

It was light. Testing. And yet, it landed like gravity.

“I haven’t stopped replaying that dinner,” she whispered. “You didn’t kiss me.”

You looked at her like she’d just stepped into your mind. “Didn’t want to rush it.”

Paige stepped into you, chest brushing yours. “Rush it now.”

You didn’t move.

Not yet.

Instead, you reached up slowly—grazed your fingers under her jaw, tilting her chin so she had to look up at you.

“Still want me to shut up?” you asked, voice husky.

She smiled.

“I want you to shut me up.”

And that was it.

You kissed her.

Not like a rivalry.

Like a reward.

Like a promise that tomorrow, and every time after, would be more than just trash talk and triple-doubles. It would be this. Quiet corners. Loud hearts. Something neither of you could defend against.

Her fingers clutched your jersey. Your hand slipped into her hair. Neither of you pulled away for a long, long time.

When you finally did, she didn’t let go. Just whispered, “still calling me rookie after that?”

You grinned. “Only if you keep looking at me like this when I say it.”

The drive was quiet.

Not awkward—just heavy with everything that had already been said without words. You sat beside her, thumb grazing the inside of her wrist as she drove one-handed, the city lights streaking across the windshield. Paige didn’t speak until the car slipped into the garage.

“You want to come in?”

The question was soft. Careful.

You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Her apartment was dim, quiet. You’d been here before—dinner, laughter, that lingering stare as you left—but it felt different now.

Now, you weren’t dancing around anything.

Now, it was humming in the air between you.

She dropped her keys on the counter, turned to you, arms still crossed like she was holding something in.

“You really got under my skin tonight,” Paige said.

You stepped closer. “On the court?”

She shook her head. “Everywhere.”

You stood in front of her, barely inches between you. The low kitchen light spilled golden down the side of her neck.

“You gonna let me fix that?” you asked, voice low.

You didn’t let her answer. You just stepped into her space—into her warmth—and kissed her again. This time deeper, slower. Less teasing, more want.

She melted into it, fingers curling into your shirt as you backed her gently toward the couch. She dropped onto it with a soft gasp, legs still between yours. You hovered, foreheads brushing.

“You good?” you asked, your voice soft but firm.

Paige nodded, breath catching. “Yeah. Really good.”

You took your time. Kissed her again. Traced your hands up her sides, lifting the hem of her hoodie slowly. She raised her arms without question. Underneath was just a sports bra. You dragged a finger along the band.

“This okay?”

She nodded again, quieter now. “Please.”

You leaned down and kissed just under her jaw—then lower, slow and reverent. Her breath hitched when your mouth pressed to the top of her chest, still covered, but not for long.

You pulled her bra off gently, eyes locked with hers as you did.

She flushed under your gaze, arms instinctively twitching like she wanted to hide.

“Don’t,” you murmured, kneeling in front of her. “You’re beautiful. Let me see you.”

The blush deepened, but her arms dropped. Her legs parted slightly.

You kissed down her sternum, her stomach, her waistband—letting your mouth worship her inch by inch. When you hooked your fingers into her shorts, she lifted her hips, silently giving permission. You stripped her bare. Slowly. Thoroughly.

She was breathless before you even touched her.

You leaned in between her thighs, spreading them with your palms until her knees fell open completely.

Then you looked up at her, waiting.

Paige met your eyes, voice barely there. “Yes. Please.”

So you did.

You licked her slowly—soft at first, like you were memorizing her. She gasped when you flattened your tongue against her clit. Her hands clutched at the couch cushion beside her thighs. She was trying to stay quiet. Trying and failing.

You hummed gently against her, mouth never letting up, fingers gripping her hips to keep her steady.

“Let go, Paige,” you whispered into her. “You can be loud with me.”

And she was.

You slipped one finger inside her, then another—slow, deliberate, curling in rhythm with your tongue. Her moans were half-breathed whimpers, choked off by the shock of pleasure every time you hit that spot.

She reached down, fingers tangling in your hair, hips grinding against your mouth without shame.

“You feel so good,” she whimpered. “God—you’re…”

You kissed her inner thigh, then went back to work, flicking your tongue, curling your fingers harder now.

She cried out, head tipping back, voice ragged.

“Don’t stop—please, don’t—”

And she came.

Hard.

Body trembling. Back arching. Hands shaking in your hair.

You slowed down, kept your mouth soft against her until she whimpered from oversensitivity. You pulled back and kissed her knee, her hip, her stomach, working your way up as she caught her breath.

When you finally reached her lips again, her arms pulled you down, clinging.

“I’ve never…” she whispered.

You smiled. “You will. As many times as you want.”

And she did.

Sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains like it was trying not to wake anyone too suddenly.

You were already awake.

Not moving. Not thinking too hard. Just… watching her.

Paige lay on her stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow, the sheet barely clinging to her waist. Her hair was a gentle mess across her face and shoulders, strands catching the light like gold thread. Her cheek was soft, slack with sleep. She looked younger like this. Softer. Like nothing in the world had ever hurt her.

You didn’t move. Not for a long time.

Just traced slow patterns on the bare skin of her back with your fingertips. Circles between her shoulder blades. Lines down her spine. She shivered slightly but didn’t stir.

Eventually, though, her lashes fluttered. She blinked herself awake slowly, adjusting to the warmth at her side.

“Morning,” she rasped, voice still low and hoarse from sleep—and maybe from the night before.

You leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “Morning.”

She rolled onto her side, tucking the blanket around her chest and nestling closer to you, thigh sliding over yours.

“You’re still here,” she murmured, as if surprised.

You looked at her.

“I wasn’t going to leave before you woke up.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “That’s dangerously sweet.”

“You bring it out of me.”

Paige reached up, fingers brushing your jaw. “You leave today?”

You nodded slowly. “Flight’s in a few hours. Back to Vegas.”

Her smile faded a little—not sad, just reluctant. “Can’t believe you lost and still ended up in my bed.”

You smirked. “Can’t believe I lost and still feel like I won.”

That made her blush, eyes falling for a moment. She tucked her face against your chest.

You wrapped your arm around her, holding her there, like you could stall time with the weight of your body alone.

“I had fun last night,” she said quietly. “Not just the game. Not just the…” She trailed off, shy again.

“I know what you mean,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The air between you was warm. Safe. The kind of stillness you don’t find in most lives lived at full speed.

Paige lifted her head, chin resting on your chest.

“You’ll text me when you land?”

“Of course.”

“You’ll… let this be a thing?”

You looked at her—really looked.

One hand rose to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “Paige. It’s already a thing.”

She nodded once, a soft smile returning. “Okay.”

And that was it. No big goodbye. No grand confessions. Just two athletes caught between cities, schedules, games—and this thing neither of them asked for but weren’t ready to give up.

She walked you to the door an hour later, wearing your hoodie and nothing else, mug in hand.

You kissed her one last time.

It wasn’t rushed.

And when you walked out, her voice followed you.

“Don’t forget I dropped 21 on you.”

You turned over your shoulder. Grinning.

“Don’t forget you begged after.”

Her laughter rang through the hallway as the elevator doors closed.

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