#and like every game like this is going to reach a point eventually where you run out of new stuff and it's the same lines over and over

[rinofwater]

So outside of the bond quest events and main story, the characters in Azuma get pretty shallow characterization, huh?

[heartyluv]

🎥˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° ✩

Note: Y’all this one is dirty, omg LOLL. I enjoyed writing it so, I hope you enjoy reading it. ♡

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,418

Summary: Caleb makes sure your ex knows that you’re a happily married woman.

PossessiveCamboy!Caleb/Reader

Marrying the man whose content you silently consumed for months was not what you expected, but it’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you.

It was random the day you stumbled upon Caleb’s page. You were one of his first few dozen supporters at the time when he only posted erotic audios. You were entertained and turned on after hearing him moan and whimper into his microphone, touching yourself and wishing it was you that he was pleasing.

You left likes and even paid for tiered subscriptions where he offered more filthy work. It was as he grew in popularity that you started feeling more comfortable to actually leave comments, figuring you’d be in the ocean of thousands and one of the last people he’d respond to.

But, it threw you completely off when he actually replied to your comment where you told him how much you loved his work.

“Thank you, pretty girl. I’m so thankful for your support. I do it for you.”

If you were crazy enough, you would’ve tattooed it on your forehead. After that, you decided to leave more comments and he replied to every single one. It made you feel special, in a weird way.

As Caleb grew more, he started to produce actual videos of himself from the neck down. You’ve never seen a body or a cock so perfect. Every time he stroked himself, whispered how close he was to coming, it was like you could feel him inside of you.

About a year after, he proposed the idea of revealing his face if his fans helped him reach a goal he was going for. It was like the internet broke with how fast they reached and surpassed it.

He was absolutely gorgeous, the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Those soft eyes, that fluffy hair, and those perfect lips had you mesmerized. The way he laughed and joked with fans on that livestream like they were friends and not people who paid to watch him come was oddly comforting. It reminded you that he really was human at the end of the day.

But, you found yourself unable to leave comments anymore. For some reason, it felt like he was a secret that was too famous for you to enjoy. It was selfish, you knew that. You still paid for his subscription, but you stopped interacting and stopped watching.

The man ended up messaging you privately, saying that he was just checking in on you. You were floored. Not only had he remembered who you were, but he took the time to actually contact you. From that point on, you two just clicked and had late night texts, exchanged phone numbers, had video calls, to eventually meeting him in person after you two found out you lived in the same state.

It was history from there. You two dated for a few years before he proposed to you. Now, you live in your shared home while he still creates content for people’s pleasure with you occasionally joining.

You never would’ve thought you’d do something like this, but with Caleb, you trusted him and you were comfortable.

It started when Caleb did a livestream where he was stern and clear about his relationship with you once you had gotten serious.

“I’m going to continue to create. I still enjoy it and my girl is very accepting of that. But, you will respect her and me, should you ever see her. I won’t hesitate to handle anything that’s even remotely disrespectful to her.”

His fans were surprisingly welcoming. You offered to be on a stream one night where Caleb was putting together this aircraft with hundreds of little blocks. Besides erotic content, your husband played video games, built little projects, and interacted with fans like it was a sleepover.

They absolutely loved you. Many said you were funny, pretty, and radiant. They loved you so much that they suggested him doing videos with you. After making sure you were really okay with it, you and Caleb tried it out and it’s been amazing.

Getting paid to fuck your husband and play games with him? Who could ask for anything better?

You started gaining popularity on your other social networks, but you kept that other part of you mainly where you and Caleb posted your videos. If anyone followed you, it was because they genuinely liked and enjoyed you as an individual and you couldn’t be more thankful for such a lovely mass of people.

Recently though, you’ve had a little bit of an issue that you haven’t shared with your husband. Your ex.

It’s obvious that he’s seen what you do now. He followed you randomly one day, but you thought nothing of it. You two split amicably, so there was no bad blood. At lease you thought. Then he started to like your posts and leave comments. You ignored him, of course.

It got worse when he started actually sending requests to the page you and Caleb posted to. The only way you knew it was him was because he used a picture of his two dogs as the profile picture. You always got to them before Caleb saw and deleted it. You blocked him, but he just made more accounts. Your ex didn’t care that you were married, didn’t care that there was legit videos online of you getting fucked by your husband. He still pushed his luck.

You and Caleb are open to requests and if the money’s right and what’s being asked is reasonable, you’ll fulfill a fan’s desires and send it to them for their private pleasure.

Your ex takes advantage of that feature and sends the same thing every time: I want this to be personal. Send me a video of you.

A measly $50 was always attached to it. It was disrespectful and you knew Caleb. He’d lose his fucking mind. It’s why you hid it and handled it the best way you knew how. But that all went to shit the day your ex sent multiple of the same request from different accounts.

Caleb saw the influx of repeated notifications. He was only upset with you for hiding this from him. He could only protect you if he was kept in the loop. But he was fuming with your ex.

“I’ll kill him,” he said to you as you stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and head down. You felt embarrassed.

“Baby, look at me,” he stepped forward, cupping your soft face in his large hand. “It’s alright. You’re okay, we’re okay,” he sighs. “Do you know why he could be doing this?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you looked up into his eyes. “He used to do dumb things like this. The whole trolling thing was his personality. He’s just being a dick.”

“You think he wants you back?” he quirked a brow.

“I have no clue,” you answer honestly.

Caleb hums, tracing your lip with his thumb, then an idea sparks in his mind. “Why don’t we give him what he wants.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Caleb, hon… What the hell are you talking about? I’m not sending him a damn thing.”

“No, you’re not,” he confirms. “But we are.”

Your propped up leg swayed side to side as you laid down on the bed in you and Caleb’s room. You were anxious as all hell, but the idea of making your ex pay for a video of you getting fucked by your man made your body hot.

You and Caleb were already naked and you watched how his half-hard cock bobbed up and down as he walked over to the lamp to set the phone in front of it to get a good angle of you two and the bed. Already, you were aching for him.

Before he sets it down, he presses the red button to start the recording and smiled mischievously to the camera. “You wanted a video, here’s your video.”

After it’s set up, he’s on top of you in seconds. He devours your mouth, sticking his tongue down your throat while his cock gently brushes against your pussy. The way you moan into his mouth makes him grind against you with unbridled passion.

“Let me eat, baby,” he whispers before kissing your lips again. “Let me taste my pussy.”

You’ll never get used to his dirty mouth. You fucking love it.

“But I want your cock,” you mewl prettily. He chuckles, kissing your neck.

“We can eat together.”

You two stand and Caleb lays down first. He turns to the camera as you climb on top, your pussy in his face and his cock in yours. “I’ll make sure to tell you what she tastes like so you can dream about it.”

You smile to yourself and Caleb is quick to pull you down, pressing his nose into your cunt and feasting on you like you’re the last supper. Your back arches as you cry out, whining at how good his tongue fucks your tight hole. “Absolutely divine,” he growls and mumbles into your flesh, staking his claim.

“Put my cock in that pretty mouth, baby. Let me feel you,” he says quickly so that he can get back to leaving long licks with his tongue flat against your pussy lips. You open your mouth, sucking him down and into your throat. Your hums vibrate around his length, making him shudder.

You stroke him as you suck, gagging and spitting on his perfect dick. You pull off of him with a small pop, admiring how the precum seeps out of his tip. You use it to lubricate him, licking up the semi-salty liquid like ice cream.

“How do I taste?” you ask him lustfully through a whimper as your hand works his cock. His spits on your pussy, licking and sucking your clit to make you almost lose your balance.

“I did say I’d describe it, didn’t I?” he teases. “You taste like…” he licks you again as if he’s making sure one more time. “My fucking wife.”

That makes you moan, clenching around his tongue as he gives your hole what it’s begging for.

“I want you to fuck me Caleb,” you beg as his licks further up and closer to your other hole. You shiver, pleasure fueled tears brimming your eyes.

Caleb wants you to come on his face, but how can he let his pretty little wife be deprived of the cock that belongs to her any longer?

“Come sit on it,” he says seductively.

Your pussy feels like it’s dripping. You climb off of him, letting the camera get a good shot of your breasts and your entire plush body. Caleb takes your hand like you’re getting ready to board a carriage, biting his lip with a smile as he guides his princess onto her noble steed.

You can’t deal with anymore foreplay or teasing, needing your husband’s cock deep inside you. You kiss him once you’re on top again. You like how he’s giving you control, but still making it very clear that you belong to him and only him.

You taste yourself on his tongue and hope that his taste is giving him the same high that it gave you.

“Put me in,” he mumbles.

You’re a pro at this by now, it’s muscle memory. You don’t even need to see. You reach between you two, grasping his length and lining him up with where he needs to be before gently bringing your hips down. Your body sucks him in, already familiar with how perfect you fit together.

You start to bounce, your ass rippling against his firm thighs as his hands roughly grab your hips to guide you. His cock kisses your cervix, making you ride him harder.

His hand comes up to grip your jaw as you stare into his eyes. “Let me taste it.”

“Yeah?” you say softly as your breasts jump.

He nods, opening his mouth for you. And you spit in it, your core clenching with how he swallows and licks his lips like he’s been given a tasty treat.

The camera catches all of this, the slight squeaks of the bed, the slapping of the skin, the lewd words and actions.

His hand grasps your throat when you sit up, trailing down your body as he cups a breast to quickly tease a taut nipple, and down further for his thumb to stimulate your aching clit.

Caleb reached out with his other hand to grab the phone, getting the perfect angle of the way your slick sticks between the both of you and how he easily slides in and out. His cock is glistening with your juices while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

Your hand comes down to caress his hard stomach, your large diamond ring to represent your union glistening in the frame.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls as your hips stutter, letting him feel how close you are.

“This is all mine,” he declares as you look down at him with a tired smile.

“Yours,” you repeat. “Oh, Caleb baby… I’m gonna come…”

“Cream on my cock, love... Let him see who this pussy weeps for.”

That’s the final thing you need. You brace your hands on his thighs behind you as your orgasm takes control of your soul. You come hard and fast and he spills deep inside of you at the same time, groaning your name as you scream his. The mix of cum starts to pool out of where you’re connected and your legs shake as you rest, letting the sticky substance get on your inner thighs.

Caleb brings the camera closer to your raw pussy, letting it capture how deep he is, how messy he’s made you. He uses his thumb to smear his spend all over, anywhere he can, biting his lip at how you whine.

Caleb flips the camera to show his flushed and thoroughly fucked face. He smiles.

“Thanks for the $50 and don’t message my wife again. Understood? I’m sure you can see how happy she is. Back the fuck off.”

He ends the video and you let your breath return to normal as he sends it and accepts the payment.

“Did it?” you ask softly.

“Done,” he nods. “You okay?”

You lean down, loving how he’s still inside of you. You press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thanks to you, I’m perfect.”

[retiredteabag]

hi teabag ily iky ily and i love your work just as much, im not sure if your reqs are open but i was wondering if you could pls do the “current bf” on the jjk guys.

Pls and thank you sweetcheeks :*

A brief and unedited headcanon request?

my masterlist

Satoru Gojo

Fussy, pouty, whiney, how many adjectives do you need?

The second he hears you use the word 'current,' his head is whipping around so fast.

"HUHHH???" - "Why would you say that :[ ??" - "Do you only see me as a short-term boy?"

He would interrupt again and again. "Take it back, take it baaaack!"

Even after you've confessed you were just trying to see his reaction, he would be unhappy. Only back rubs can cure his moodiness after that.

Suguru Geto

^_^

He knows you're being a tease.

For some reason, I get the impression that he wouldn't say anything, he'd let you speak until you were finished. Maybe you were making a video, maybe you were introducing him to a friend, maybe you were talking about him on the phone.

Whatever the case, he has to hold himself back from pinching your cheek when he sees you keep passing glances his way.

Aww, you're trying to get a rise out of him?

Too bad it has the opposite effect and makes him want to keep you in his pocket like a bratty little critter.

Kento Nanami

This man has definitely put a ring on it, so when you call him your "current husband," he is certainly doing double-takes.

Surely he's going crazy, it's just not something you would say, and yet here you are, saying it. After a pause to collect himself, I can see him reaching out to grasp your wrist, gently rubbing at your pulse.

You crack immediately, he's too sweet, and he's looking at you as if you've broken his heart.

"Kennnn!!! I was just kidding."

Choso Kamo

"Current?" He's looking at you, and poor boy is confused.

It causes you physical distress to look over and nod at him, playing it up like normal. After a hum of confirmation, he is grabbing your hand.

He brings it over to his lap, completely serious. Long forgotten is whatever video you were making.

"I don't want to be your current boyfriend..."

He's so tender, it takes everything in you not to coo at him. "You don't?"

"I thought current meant... only now... I want to be yours forever..."

Then you eat him alive. :]

Ryoman Sukuna

He's more concerned about the title "boyfriend" than he is with the assertion you're making.

You had just motioned toward him, the "current" remark meant as his introduction. Sukuna just scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Don't call me that."

And oh, you're just giddy at his response. Score! He loves you so much :D, "Oh yeah? You don't like that?"

"I'm not a 'boyfriend', that is a gross misuse of my epithet."

Oh.

"That's what you've taken issue with?" You pout at him, in all actuality, you're a bit hurt, wondering if what he had been expecting was "current employer".

It wasn't until he waved his hand in a dismissive motion that he walked off, "I am your lover, not your measly boyfriend. Do not insult me so again."

Toji Fushiguro

"Current? What the fuck?"

He is not letting you get past that, believe me. No matter how you try to change the conversation or brush it aside, he's talking over you at every turn. He doesn't even need to be domineering.

Oh, Toji can tell by the way you're trying to hold in your laughs that you're teasing him, but two can play at that game.

You're trying to proceed with whatever silly little game you had, everything after the fact was lost on Toji though, "Current...right, right... I'm the current boyfriend, funny, I guess you tell all your hoes how you wanna spend the rest of your life with them, you beg to fall asleep on top of all your boytoys-"

It would get to a point where you would just be unintelligible over his ramblings. Eventually, you would try to cover his mouth with a hand, "Oh my gosh, TojI!!" You would end the video while his lips curled into a smirk against your palm.

Yuuji Itadori

"Huh?"

It's not the instantaneous reaction that would come from the other guys; it would likely take him a second to catch up. He's just excited that you wanted him to be a part of your little video, and also a bit distracted by how pretty you look while showing off your outfit.

The words mingle in his brain for a second, smile dropping, he evaluates your meaning.

"What...?"

You steel yourself, ready for his reaction... but it doesn't come.

You turn to look at him, but he's stepped out of frame, a confused look has taken over his features, still analyzing why you would call him that. Gears still rotating, he'd look so taken aback. Trust me, you'd have to do some serious consoling for him.

"I was joking! It's a prank, Yuuji! You're my forever and ever!"

You reach down to stop recording, and Yuuji pulls a palm to his chest. "Whew! Scared me there..." Shaking his head, he would use a hand to muse his hair, " I didn't like that."

😭

Megumi Fushiguro

"Uh, no."

You don't even have it in you to try and extend it, he's already got a pinching grip on the ticklish spot of your waist. A silent, 'try again.'

You can't continue, looking at him, you can see he's already butthurt.

Good luck getting him to bring out the dogs anymore.

[ayukas]

゛7dream as your group-project mates (but they’re all secretly in love with you) ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

7dream who begged your professor to bend the rules. who whined in unison at nine in the morning, a chorus of misbehaving puppies gathered outside her office, hands clasped, eyes wide with practiced desperation, voices syrupy-sweet and way too charming to be sincere.

“technically, we’re seven,” chenle says with a hopeful smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“but spiritually, we’re eight,” haechan adds, expression dead serious.

jaemin leans against the doorframe, spinning a pen between his fingers, a practiced charm in the tilt of his grin “c’mon, prof. it’s just one more person. just her.”

because what are seven boys to do without the sun they orbit around? what is a group-project without the girl who makes even silent brainstorming sessions feel like a slow-burn romance film?

the professor sighs, defeated. then, she agrees. seven pairs of eyes light up like kids on christmas morning.

you walk in minutes later, and they all greet you at once—too brightly, too eagerly—like it was fate, and not manipulation, that brought you to them.

haechan who never actually needed help with the slides but still texted,

urgent URGENT need ur help with the slides jisung’s USELESS PLS COME PLS COME PLS COME

you arrive at the campus cafe, laptop in tow, and spot him immediately by the window—sunlight spilling over his skin like honey. you watch as he plays with the straw of his drink, black thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he huffs, a mess of black curls ruffled from waiting.

he nearly falls out of his chair when he sees you, jumping up and waving both hands like a man overboard spotting land.

“i got you your favourite,” he beams, cheeks dusted pink from excitement. “i remembered.”

and when you ask where the others are, he dodges the question entirely, tripping over his words, trying to change the topic and distracting you by pointing out every flaw in your powerpoint font choices.

eventually, you let it go, and he settles comfortably again, his hand finding yours—brushing, brushing, then finally staying, fingers laced in silent confession. he tugs on a strand of your hair absentmindedly, plays with the edge of your sweater sleeve like he’s memorising the texture.

your voice falters mid-sentence when he reaches up tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your cheek. from the corner of your eye, you catch his boba eyes staring at you—soft, stunned, like you’re the most beautiful slide he’s ever seen.

mark & jaemin who “forgot” how to work the prototype.

can you come over to ours? prototype’s being weird. we’re stuck :/

you knock on their dorm door, expecting chaos and wires and last-minute stress. instead, you’re greeted by dimmed lights, the soft glow of their projector, and a pillow fort on the couch like something out of a sleepover movie.

the prototype’s nowhere in sight and jaemin throws a blanket over your lap before you can even start to question them. mark hands you a slice of pizza with a sheepish grin, like everything is normal, like they didn’t just lure you here under false pretenses.

“we figured it out already,” mark says, chuckling into his drink.

“but now we need help figuring out which movie to watch,” jaemin adds, head tilted as he scrolls through endless options, pretending to be focused.

you end up squished between them on the couch, warm and drowsy under the blanket. both boys leaning closer and closer everytime they laugh, their shoulders pressing against yours like clockwork.

mark sneaks glances when you’re not looking—eyes soft, almost shy. jaemin doesn’t even bother hiding it, his gaze never once leaving your face, like the movie is just background noise to the real feature.

jeno who volunteers to edit the report with you late at night, even though he has a baseball game the next morning.

he shows up at your dorm with his laptop, some study materials, and a bag of all your favourite snacks. he opens his laptop but barely uses it, too distracted by the way you chew at your pen cap when you’re thinking. the way your brows furrow when you're focused. the way you hum softly to your music as you work.

and when your mug runs empty, he refills it without you having to ask, the rim still warm from his own touch when he hands it back to you.

“how much did you get done?” you ask, stretching.

he blinks. “...one... word...?”

you burst into laughter, head thrown back, and he grins like he’s just hit a walk-off home run.

renjun who pretends to be annoyed when you make a mistake.

he sighs, dramatic and put-upon. “you’re doing it wrong,” he says, leaning over, hand over yours, voice low and slow as he guides you through the steps, his fingers lingering far longer than necessary.

he rolls his eyes when you mispronounce a theory term, but then repeats it in a tone so soft it practically melts into your skin.

he walks you home when meetings run late, pushing the rest of your friends away and pulls you away with him, muttering something about how he doesn’t trust the others with a pretty girl like you.

you thank him and he grumbles like he’s annoyed, but his scarf is already half-wrapped around your neck, and his hand is already reaching for yours.

“safety measure,” he mumbles, ears bright red as he avoids your eyes.

chenle & jisung who studies with you in the library even when they don’t want to.

chenle who groans the entire time about how unfairly high the project’s weightage is, but still shows up early with snacks he knows you like—because “someone has to make sure you’re fed.”

“you better not skip lunch again,” he warns, poking your arm with a prawn chip. his tone is teasing, but there’s concern in the crease of his brows.

jisung who doesn’t say much, but always choosing to sit beside you instead of his best friend. he opens his book to the same page you’re on and mirrors your reading pace, like working next to you helps the words make more sense.

he offers you one side of his earbuds, hand trembling slightly when your fingers brush. and when you call him cute after catching him startled at the contact, he turns red from collar to ears—denying it immediately, but unable to stop smiling for the next hour.

7dream who, when the project is submitted, are somehow outside your professor’s office again.

not for an extension, not for a grade bump, but to beg, again—politely, desperately—to stay together as a group for the next group-project too.

“we just work really well together,” mark says, a little too quickly.

“yeah,” jeno chimes in, nodding. “great chemistry.”

you glance at them, half-suspicious with the way they’re all grinning so much.

when you leave for your next class, jisung whispers, “i think i’m gonna confess to her after finals.”

“what? no way!” renjun hisses, “i was gonna ask her out!”

“over my dead body,” jaemin hums, already daydreaming about his confession strategy. should he buy you chocolates or flowers? both?

because 7dream may be your classmates, your groupmates, your friends—but they’ve also each written essays stitched onto their hearts. long, rambling, hopelessly romantic essays, each sentence spelling,

i like you, and i hope you never notice how obvious it is.

notes i know i said i was on a mini hiatus but my final-year project is Stressing me out Bad and im in a Rough patch with my groupmates (MY LEADER... BOO...) so i decided to write this to comfort myself #selfindulgent #idgaf #saveayukas did u guys miss me... i missed being on here hahahsh 😿✌️

perm. taglist ♡ @dreaminabtrj @ddolbyong @f6llsun @egojo1st @sungbites @nonverdolly @strwberie @blondemrk @chenlezip @markkiatocafe @stqrgr7 @jisungji @taroddori @haeriaes @kukkurookkoo @polarisjisung @dudekiss3r @dejundesign @uncasings @sweetpinkblueberry @spacejip @yushiela @insbread @t-102 @haelvrty @pl4netx1a @haeivie @natakgae @fae-renjun @sunghoonsgfreal @jaemcaffe @xikskrrrs

[wordsmeetwbb]

Relax

Word count: 2.4k

Content: smut (sub P, mommy!Azzi)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: After saying I was gonna post this every night for approximately a week, it's finally done! Not edited, as per usual, so please let me know if you see any typos or anything. Anyway, Mommy Azzi is back, so please enjoy this before I get absolutely destroyed by finals soon!

________

Paige and Azzi are sprawled out on the couch in Azzi’s apartment, Paige draped across Azzi’s lap, the rest of the team scattered throughout the living room, paying varying amounts of attention to the NBA game playing on the TV.

Paige had been paying attention earlier, but then her eyes had drooped, her head had lolled to the side, and Azzi pulled her right down into her lap. Now Paige has a blissed out smile on her face as Azzi’s fingers scratch along her scalp gently. She hums when Azzi massages around her temples. KK side eyes them and makes a gagging noise.

“Can y’all be normal for one night? Please? The rest of us are tryna watch Lebron in peace here,” she complains.

“Shh,” Azzi hisses, fingers brushing hair off of Paige’s forehead. “Be quiet and let her relax.” Ice scoffs from where she’s leaned up against the base of the couch.

“If she wants to relax, she can go back to her own apartment. She doesn’t even live here.” Azzi glares at the younger girl.

“Okay, well I live here. I’ll kick you out,” she threatens in a hushed whisper. Ice rolls her eyes.

“Damn, maybe we should stop making fun of Paige for being a simp. You’re like a goddamn mother hen,” she retorts. Paige blinks her eyes open, squinting at Ice.

“Hey,” she rasps. Azzi’s hands flutter over her shoulders, smoothing over her hoodie. “Be nice to my girl,” Paige warns. Even in her extremely non-threatening state, curled into Azzi’s chest, the rest of the team knows that Paige is serious.

There’s a little bit of grumbling, mostly from KK, but eventually everyone focuses back on their quiet conversations or the game. Paige settles back into Azzi’s embrace, tugging the brunette’s arms around her, tucking her chin into the crease of Azzi’s elbow and humming in contentment. Azzi resumes her soothing motions through Paige’s hair.

The peace doesn’t last long though. The girls grow restless quickly, somebody yells when Lebron hits a three, and Paige mumbles in annoyance as she’s jostled awake again by the noise. Azzi whispers little “shh”s and “just relax baby”s but it doesn’t work. Paige groans and heaves herself into a sitting position. Azzi scowls at anyone making noise.

“Y’all suck,” Paige complains, lacing her fingers tightly with Azzi’s as she tugs them both up off the couch. Several of the girls turn around and look at them curiously.

“What’re you doing?” Jana asks. Paige raises an eyebrow, still looking so soft and sleepy that Azzi thinks it might be giving her cuteness aggression. She wants to bundle her up in a fuzzy blanket and hug her.

She can’t do that here, though, which seems to be exactly what Paige is trying to remedy.

“We’re leaving.”

“Uh, Azzi lives here,” Sarah points out. Paige shoots her an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, and?” Sarah shuts up.

Giggles and whispered teases float down the hallway as Paige tugs Azzi towards the door. The door clicks shut softly behind them, enveloping them in the silence of the hallway. As they pad down the bland, impressonal hallway, Paige slings and arm around Azzi’s waist, hand settling on her hip bone through her sweats. Azzi presses their hips together gently, only pulling apart when they reach the stairs.

As soon as they’re back in Paige’s apartment, the door to her bedroom shut and locked carefully, Paige collapses into Azzi, burying her face into the younger girl’s neck. Azzi loops her arms around Paige’s waist, hands slipping under the fabric of her hoodie to stroke the skin of her lower back slowly.

“You tired honey? Let’s go to bed,” Azzi coos. Paige tightens her hold on Azzi, keeping them rooting in place firmly. She presses a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck, where her face is still hidden. She mumbles something unintelligible into Azzi’s skin.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Azzi whispers. She feels Paige’s face heat against her neck.

“Want you first,” she whispers. Azzi’s mouth melts into a soft smile.

“Oh, you do, huh?” She teases. Paige blushes again.

“You don’t gotta make fun of me for it,” she complains, voice achingly soft. Azzi doesn’t even reply, just slips one of her hands behind Paige’s neck and brings her in for a gentle kiss.

It’s tender and sweet, just light presses of their lips until Paige gets impatient and swipes her tongue over Azzi’s lips, asking for her to open. She does, letting Paige lick into her mouth, tongues brushing together. Azzi lets out a quiet little sigh and pulls away. There’s only an inch or so separating them, and her breath washes over Paige’s mouth.

“What do you want, P?” She asks. Paige hold’s Azzi’s hip with one hand, pulling her towards the bed until they’re both falling onto the mattress.

Azzi lands on top, her arms bracketing Paige’s frame. Paige looks up at her with wide blue eyes, lips parted slightly. Azzi can’t help herself but to lean down and kiss her softly.

“What do you want?” She asks again. Paige’s eyes flicker over her face like somehow the curve of Azzi’s jaw or the flutter of her eyelashes will tell her what she wants.

“Can you just pick?” She asks. Azzi’s face softens.

“Of course, sweet girl. Just want me to take care of you, don’t you?” Paige nods, body relaxing a little further into the bed. Azzi’s fingers play with the hem of Paige’s shirt, tugging it up slightly, asking for permission to take it off. Paige lifts her arms obediently, helping the younger girl get the shirt off.

“Yours too,” Paige urges, already pulling Azzi’s shirt off. It only takes a moment before their pants follow, leaving both girls only in their underwear.

Somewhere in the mess of clothes, Azzi ends up settled against the headboard of the bed, Paige in her lap with her legs straddling Azzi’s. Azzi cups Paige’s cheek, brushing her thumb over the pale skin. Paige isn’t paying attention, though.

The older girl’s vision is locked in on Azzi’s tits, round and heavy and looking so enticing that Paige actually starts to salivate. She leans down, sliding down Azzi’s body so she can press her face into the warm flesh. Her mouth is open, tongue dragging messy and lazy lines as she shakes her head back and forth. Her eyes are closed, and Azzi tucks a piece of hair behind Paige’s ear to get it out of her way.

The soft touch seems to give Paige a sense of purpose. She focuses her attention on one of Azzi’s nipples, thumbing over it gently, her expression full of desire as the action makes it harden slightly. Then she leans back down and licks over her nipple slowly.

Azzi lets out a breath. She slides a hand into Paige’s hair, holding her in place gently. Paige flattens her tongue and repeats the action, making her way over Azzi’s tits, almost like she’s exploring.

When she sucks one nipple into her mouth and brings her hand up to squeeze at the other side roughly, a moan finally escapes Azzi. Paige feels the wet patch on her boxers grow bigger. She pulls off Azzi’s chest with a quiet pop, looking up at the younger girl with an expression that might have been innocent if her face wasn’t framed by Azzi’s breasts.

“Oh, my sweet girl, look at you,” Azzi coos. Paige flushes, cheeks turning a light pink that contrasts prettily with the blue of her eyes. She presses another kiss to Azzi’s nipple, dragging her tongue over skin as she pulls away again. Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair soothingly.

“I bet you’ve got yourself all worked up from this, don’t you?” Azzi’s voice is gentle when she asks, but it makes Paige whine. Her hips shift, looking for contact and finding none. Azzi pulls Paige’s face back to her own and kisses her.

It’s messy, tongues and spit and teeth scraping. Saliva stretches between their lips when Paige pulls away, panting. “Please mommy,” she whines. Azzi throbs between her legs. It always gets her especially hot when Paige gets needy and unfiltered like this, when that name slips from her lips.

She grips Paige’s jaw, maybe with a little too much force, but it gets the blonde’s eyes to focus on her face.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue, baby?” Paige looks like she’s genuinely thinking about it, her brain working very hard to fight through the fog she’s feeling.

“Tongue,” she answers slowly. Azzi nods, already flipping their positions so Paige is laid on the mattress and she’s hovering above her.

Azzi spreads Paige’s legs carefully, eyes shooting right to the wet patch on her gray boxers. She licks her lips and traces over the fabric with a finger. Paige’s hips twitch and a needy little noise escapes her lips.

“What was that, pretty girl?” Azzi asks, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Paige’s boxers. The older girl lets her head fall back onto the pillows, chest rising and falling with anticipatory breaths.

“Need it,” she mumbles.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You, mommy,” Paige pleads, voice full of desperation. Azzi places a chaste kiss to the inside of Paige’s thigh and pulls her boxers down. They join Paige’s shirt, flung across her desk chair haphazardly.

Azzi slides herself down between Paige’s legs, getting comfy as she moves Paige’s legs over her shoulders. Her eyes zero in on the slick glistening between Paige’s legs. She blows a light breath over Paige’s cunt, making the older girl twitch. Her fingers fist in the sheets, knowing better than to mess up Azzi’s hair. She had just washed it this morning, and she definitely didn’t want to deal with all the complaining if she had to detangle it again because of Paige.

Paige’s eyes flutter closed when she feels Azzi’s tongue slip through her folds. Azzi keeps it simple, going slow, just little kitten licks through her folds. Paige’s breath stutters out, hands twitching in the sheets.

“Need more, mommy, please,” she begs. Azzi licks over her clit once, making Paige’s tummy tense. She pulls away just far enough to speak.

“You taste so good. My sweet girl, dripping onto the bed for me. So good,” she praises. Paige is officially gone. A little whimper slips out of her mouth just from the words. Azzi watches as her cunt clenches around nothing. She quickly brings her thumb down to play with Paige’s clit, giving her just enough stimulation to bring the pleasure back and erase the overwhelming feeling of emptiness.

“Shh, I got you honey. Just relax and let it feel good. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.” Paige’s body is relaxing before her mind has really even processed the words. She’s rewarded with Azzi’s mouth back on her cunt, licking through her folds again but with the added pressure of her thumb on her clit this time. It feels euphoric.

The tension in Paige’s core is building and building as Azzi continues her gentle but focused actions. The little sounds coming from the older girl are continuous now as she shifts, trying to get even more pleasure out of every movement.

“Just breathe for me, Paige,” Azzi instructs. Paige’s body obeys without thinking. She sucks in a deep, steady breath, and the pleasure washes over her deeper. She breathes out and suddenly Azzi is sucking her clit into her mouth. Paige lets out something like a sob.

“Does that feel good?” Azzi asks, knowing the answer. Paige nods desperately.

“Mommy, I can’t– please– so close,” she gasps. Azz’s free hand slides over Paige’s stomach in broad, soothing strokes.

“I know honey, you’re doing so good for me. Doin’ so good, pretty girl. Just keep breathing. I’ll make you feel good,” Azzi promises. The words push Paige even closer as she focuses on her breathing, trying her best not to buck her hips when Azzi goes back to sucking on her clit.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for Paige to be writhing on the bed, Azzi’s words washing over her in waves as she begs to come.

“Gonna cum, please, can I cum, mommy, can I–” her mouth splits open on a cry as Azzi thrusts her tongue into her cunt.

“Let go, Paige. You can come. Feel good for me, sweet girl,” Azzi coos. That’s all it takes. Paige shakes to pieces on the bed while Azzi keeps fucking her on her tongue, humming as she feels the slick gush from Paige’s cunt.

“That’s it. You taste so good babygirl. Being so good,” she soothes. She pulls away from Paige’s cunt, letting the older girl twitch through the aftershocks of her orgasm. She just runs her hands over Paige’s arms and legs and stomach– any skin she can reach.

“You did so good for me, Paige,” Azzi whispers one last time, pressing a kiss into Paige’s hair. Paige breathes out shakily, still trying to make her lungs work.

“Thanks,” she whispers back. Azzi laughs quietly.

“You’re welcome, baby. You ready to go to bed now?” She asks. Paige starts to nod before she stops herself.

“Wait, lemme get you before we sleep,” she says, brows knitting together. She looks genuinely distressed at the idea of going to bed before getting Azzi off, but the younger girl just pushes her back down onto the bed carefully, tucking the blankets around her.

“I’m okay,” she says. Paige starts to argue but she shuts her up with a kiss. “Really, Paige. I promise. You’re tired. We can go to sleep,” Azzi promises. Paige still looks like she wants to fight the statements, but Azzi just cups her cheeks and looks her right in the eyes.

“You can get me off tomorrow. I swear. But right now we’re both tired, so let’s just go to bed. Please.” Her voice softens on the last word and Paige’s resistance crumbles. All it takes is their arms wrapped around each other, a couple of whispered I love you’s, and the warmth of the blankets. They’re both asleep in a matter of minutes.

[luviisabella]

mind games ۶ৎBNHA UNI.AU

-> katsuki bakugou 🩷

You had him wrapped around your finger.

It started with you two being assigned the same patrol areas, at first in larger groups but eventually it was just the two of you.

He would mumble under his breath but you knew he was more than happy to be paired with you and not one of the other guys.

Per usual, you two were assigned to Shinjuku City for the night. You were surprised reading the chart because usually you had day shifts and before you could question it your thoughts were already answered.

“Mina and Kirishima called out sick, they were supposed to cover the afternoon so they gave it to us”

Bakugou came up next to you scanning the board for anything else you may have missed and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sick ?” and deep down you knew exactly what that meant, you made a mental note to call her for details later.

—

Once it was 7pm you and Bakugou decided to start heading over. Both of you had a brief conversation with your boss, the lookout was for a guy with what sounds like an interesting quirk who’s been dealing for the LOV.

As the two of you walked down the busy streets you admired the night life. It wasn’t often you went out or saw pretty areas such as this, not unless you were assigned.

Bakugou looked over and scoffed when he saw your eyes wandering in every direction at once.

“We should get something while we’re here”

He looked over at you in surprise.

“What ? We technically don’t start until 9 and are here until 1am so we might as well look around. Maybe we’ll even find him where we least expect it”

He didn’t want to admit it, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Besides.. it meant he could spend more time with you.

You two walked into multiple stores, looking at clothes, jewelry, shoes, and even snacks.

After about an hour you both decided to sit on top of a building and just admire the view.

It was convenient you both had flight quirks, but it wasn’t uncommon to catch you two on a building like this.

If you’re being honest it also helps you scan the crowd from an unexpected distance. Easier to spot who you’re looking for.

You two were both eating mochi, yours was pink and his was orange (the irony), and as the clouds moved to reveal the moon, you couldn’t help but realize how pretty he was.

You stared at him in awe of his looks, you always knew he was good looking, but my God.

“Weird ass” despite looking down he noticed you staring

You frowned, you ignored his words, you just wanted to get a better look.. so you reached over and grabbed the side of his face to turn it towards you.

“The fuck’s your.. problem…” and while he wanted to be mad, he ended up silent.

The look you were giving him sent his heart into shock and your touch was so delicate. He’s never felt anything like that and while he might struggle to admit it, you’re the only one he’d ever let do this.

You softly smile at him, “You do have pretty eyes” and you couldn’t help but fight back a laugh when you felt his face heat up.

He moved his head back, looking back down and trying not to acknowledge what just happened. “Your hands are sticky.” they weren’t, he just didn’t know how to react, let alone say “Don’t let go”.

Despite his ‘cold’ attitude, you knew how he felt, but you were waiting for him to admit it first.

You also looked down and while admiring the view again you noticed something.

“That’s him.” pointing towards the very obvious spot, that ironically being the top of another smaller building.

You stood up and looked over at Bakugo who was already on his feet. No words were set before you both took off.

You both caught him off guard because from the looks of it he was in the midst of a drug exchange, but something didn’t feel right. You had a vague description of the guys quirk and when the villain revealed his hand that’s when you realized.

Past heroes or people that tried stopping him were either in the hospital on meds for temporary paralysis, fever, or were thankfully recovering. It wasn’t injuries, his quirk was venom. That’s why your boss told you to look out for any cuts, bruises, etc. on his body, because he’s been transferring his blood into bullets and using it on heroes.

The villain looked as if he was aiming at you but judging by the smile on his face he knew you caught on and quickly turned to Bakugou.

In a panick you immediately ran to cover him, barely making it in time before the bullet hit your upper arm.

You cursed before looking over, trying to minimize losing sight of the villain but he was already making a run for it.

“We have to-“ shit..

..his quirk. You took a weak step forward before falling to the floor.

“Y/n !” He was internally cursing himself out, by the time you figured out his quirk he did too and was reaching towards the guy before he turned to him.

Bakugou reached down to pick you up, letting your head rest on his bicep as he was talking to you. Except, his words weren’t clear, you could only hear what sounded like a faint voice.

“I can’t move” you were fighting back the pain coursing through your body. It felt like every limb was being compressed and your senses were all blocked. You couldn’t even lift your finger, slowly every muscle in your body began to go numb.

Your nervous system was slowing down.

You were going in and out of consciousness, you could see him calling for backup and when you blinked again he was now looking down at you. The same eyes you thought were so pretty moments ago now looking down at you with fear.

He held you just a little tighter, afraid if he let go you’d fall apart.

“Come on, stay with me… please.”

part two ?

made by luviisabella۶ৎ

[hottestvirgin]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 | 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐊

you and hyuck are in an open relationship, but at some point you get jealous that he regularly fucks with another woman. now, you have to prove that you’re better than her.

warnings(17+). nsfw, protected sex, rough sex, creampie, cunnilingus, slight dacryphilia, pet names, dirty talk, oral sex [for @toniiswrld !] & im taking requests rn!

walking through your apartment door was like deja-vu to him. he didn’t even knock. he never had to, ever since you’ve both developed this relationship. you were both friends years prior to hooking up.

in all honesty, you never really cared about who hyuck messed with. as long as he kept seeing you at the end. but it wasn’t until he started openly fucking another woman.

“we’re fucking, by the way.” hyuck casually told you as he scrolled through her social media account, clicking random pictures of hers to show you.

that was the first time jealousy had smacked you across the face. she was pretty, gorgeous even. but you weren’t jealous of her looks. you were jealous that she was getting what you thought was yours and yours only.

well, you did set this boundary— where you and him both could keep seeing other people without any hard feelings. but damn, did it come back and slap you in the face.

hyuck could sense your bitterness and turned his phone off, rubbing your thigh while he stared at you. “what happened to that mark guy? you stopped seeing him?”

“yeah. months ago,” you told him simply, meeting his gaze, “i told you this.” you had broken things off with mark because a tiny part of you felt that your relationship with hyuck was growing stronger to the point where you didn’t want anybody else but him.

and hyuck didn’t say anything, only staring at you as you tried to act nonchalant as possible. but he could see right through you, and you didn’t know that. “you good?” he questioned, studying your face.

“i’m good.”

“we lying to each other now?” the hand on your thigh inched higher and you began wondering if he could even hear your pounding heart in that moment.

he didn’t stop there— his hand slid around your waist and pulled you into his arms, guiding you onto his lap. this only created a new profound tension now that your eyes were on his and his’ only.

you swallowed hard with a nervous giggle, “i’m not lying to you, boy.”

“boy?” a chuckle fell past his plush lips and he rode his hand up and down your back. he was teasing you. seeing how far he could take his tricks until you reacted. seduction was always a game to him and you hated how you, along with every woman he knew, lost.

you hummed at his words, “it’s getting pretty late. i think you should go see that other girl if you’re this horny.” you stood from his lap but he caught your wrist and pulled you back onto him.

“this what we doin’ now, Y/N?” he asked, face inching closer and closer to yours. he caught your lips into his but before it got steamier you pulled away with a small smile and a nod. “cool.”

weeks had passed and your time with hyuck went from seeing each other damn near everyday to casual texting to which he barely even responded to. everytime you called him he’d tell you that he was with that girl.

you hated feeling this desperate— telling yourself to swallow your pride and try calling him to see if he’d still want to come over, or if he still even wanted to fuck with you.

but it was so much you could take. you didn’t care about getting dick-ed down by him anymore, you just wanted your friend back.

eventually you stopped trying to reach him until one night, you received a phone call from “H”, (you had changed his contact name to be petty.) you stared at your phone for a split second before letting it stop buzzing.

H: wyd?

H: why you ain’t answer?

H: hello?

the buzzes continued and continued and continued. you were so close to answering to tell him to stop. but you heard your front door opening and shutting. you knew it was him but you wanted to keep acting nonchalant.

hyuck spotted you on your couch, snuggled up in your blanket while watching tv. he glared at you for a few seconds before opening his mouth.

“so you ignoring me now?” he walked over to you, standing in front of the tv when you didn’t respond fast enough. when you tried moving your head to see the screen he moved with you.

“move..”

“no,” he kept watching you, “why are you being like this?”

at this point, you had thought that it’d be better if you’d come out and tell him why you were upset, even though it was pretty clear. he wasn’t dumb and he was very aware on how you were after knowing you for so long.

“so you haven’t been responding back to me because you were with her?” you asked simply. hyuck paused for a minute to take in your words, then he laughed. “so that’s what this is about?” he asked, “you being bitter?”

“m’ not bitter..”

“you are. and i wasn’t even with her today. i was with her yesterday.” he told you as if it was any better. that had pissed you off, and it didn’t help that he sat next to you on the couch. you tried scooting away but a firm grip on your arm pulled you closer to him.

“why are you being like this?” he asked again. and it took everything in you not to scream at him. he had literally dumped you for some random bitch.

“you need to stop seeing her.” you said, and hyuck furrowed his eyebrows, “what makes you think you can tell me who i stop seeing?”

“because i don’t want you fucking her!” you snapped, yanking your arm away from his grip. now, you were very upset. you had thought that it would prompt him to leave but he didn’t.

hyuck tsked at your words, “just so greedy,” he wrapped his arm around your waist, harder, pulling you towards his chest, “doing all this over some dick?”

well.. yes. you were, and you didn’t care anymore. he was yours first for years and you wanted to take back what was yours. but you couldn’t lie anymore, being pulled against his chest brought a new wave of warmness over you. and you realized how much you actually liked him.

how warm his tanned skin felt against yours, the way his bangs fell messily over his forehead. the manspread, his smell, everything.

“who's better.. me or her?”

hyuck paused for a minute, “i dunno, help me decide.” he ran his hand over the hardening bulge in his joggers and you were quick to get rid of them, crawling onto your knees below him.

you were so desperate to prove to him that your better than her, way better. leaving him in his boxers, you’re met with his erection. you ran your palm against him and he groaned lowly.

you pulled his boxers down and wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping your hand and he bit back another groan, lifting his shirt to watch you spit on his tip. “has she ever gotten you this hard before?” you asked.

“only you.” he told you, and it made your stomach churn in arousal. you were quick to part your lips and lick his tip. hyuck hissed and threw his head back, adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. then, you traced patterns along his tip, digging your tongue into his slit.

his hips jerked, “b-baby.. fuck,” he whimpered, warmness pooling in the pit of his stomach, “put it in your mouth.”

you complied, taking in a deep breath through your nose while you took him into your mouth, the corners of your mouth stretching to accommodate his size. hyuck groaned again when you started bobbing your head, using your hand to hold what you couldn’t take.

“shiiit, just like that.” he strained, grabbing a handful of your hair, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes, his huge eyes staring back down at you. he thought you looked so cute with his cock stuffed in your mouth, he had missed this sight so much.

your heart pounded restlessly in your chest from the intense arousal that coursed through your body. you could feel wetness pooling in your panties as he stared down at you lustfully, eyebrows furrowed with his mouth slightly agape.

you could feel his cock twitch and throb in your mouth. he was quick to yank your head away, creating a small pop sound. spit dribbled down your chin and you wiped it off with the back of your hand. you gave him a certain look of annoyance.

“take your shorts off.” he purred, and you were quick to get rid of them. you could sense the shift in his demeanor, from needy to hungry.

“what?” he smiled, pushing you onto your back, the cold leather beneath you sent shivers down your spine, “haven’t tasted this pussy in so long.”

he was quick to push your legs apart, sprinkling wet kiss along your inner thighs just until he reached your heat. you were genuinely trying not to lose your shit since you haven’t gotten ate out in forever.

but when his tongue traced around your clit before sucking it in between his plush lips, you winced and your body tensed, hand reaching to massage your own breasts. then he lapped at your dripping hole, taking in the familiar taste and scent.

“hnngh, h-hyuck..” you cried out. he hummed at your whines, tongue gliding from your clit to your hole in fat stripes. he squeezed your soft thighs, slurping at your juices. your face burned in embarrassment at how wet you were. but you couldn’t help it, you missed your man.

he pulled away, just for a minute, kissing and licking your thighs again. “i hear you, pretty.” he mumbled against your thighs, all the way to your stomach and when he reached your clothed breasts, he was quick to tear the fabric away, latching his lips onto your hardened nipples.

as he sucked in them, he rubbed your clit in figure eights, occasionally running them over your hole and fuck.

“t..think m’ gonna cum.” you mewled, surprised at your own words. in your defense, you were technically edged for months. and little friction had your hips jerking for more.

“already?” hyuck teased, as if he wasn’t near his release from how pretty and desperate you looked, “open your mouth.”

you did, and he was quick to catch your lips into his. while he kissed you, his fingers slid into you, curling and hitting that spot almost immediately. it was sadistic how fast he started fingering you, squelching noises echoing in the living room as you’re silence by his lips.

you couldn’t even tell him that you were cumming but he knew from how you tighten around his fingers, clear liquid spilling out of you with each thrust.

he pulled away from your lips with a smile, your moans instantly spilling from your mouth.

“h..hyuck- ah, i..cant, fuuuuck—“ you pushed at his wrists, and he stopped, pulling his fingers out of you and you watched your juice drip from his hand.

“look how wet you got my fingers.” he held them up and your face twisted and went hot in embarrassment. hyuck grabbed your arm and turned you around, bending you over. when he lined his tip with your entrance, you wanted to get one last jab at him.

“wait. get a condom.” you huffed. hyuck sighed and reached for his discarded pants, pulling a condom from his pocket and ripping it open with his teeth, “you trying to be funny?” he questioned.

with a shrug, “don’t want whatever she probably gave you.” you stated, and you could tell that he was getting annoyed as he rolled the rubber onto his tip, rolling it onto him completely. “you got an attitude on you tonight, huh?”

sitting up, he manhandled you onto your hands and knees, lining his tip with your hole and without any warning, he slid in. the burning sensation of being stretched after weeks of no dick had you biting back a moan.

hyuck moved his hips, pushing the center of your back. your mouth opened to say something, anything. but it ended up staying hung open as moans were pounded out of you. hyuck grunted above you, “keep your back arched, girl.” he husked out, stilling his movements to grip your waist. the minute he stopped moving felt like torture and you were getting frustrated.

“i-i am, fuck!” you argued, and your body jolted when his hand came down onto your ass, stinging the flesh. “loose the attitude.” he threatened.

you winced when he continued to abuse your pussy, his skin slapping against yours and creating a never-ending cycle of skin slapping that filled your tiny apartment. he licked his lips, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself disappear in you.

“so fucking tight. haven’t been fucking anyone else, hm?” hyuck interrogated, voice trembling as he picked up the pace. in all honesty, he hated when you fucked with other dudes that weren’t him. it had always irked him.

“o-only you, h..hyuck.” you whimpered. you couldn’t work up the courage to fuck anyone else. you wanted him and him only. “fuck me harder..”

he hummed at your words. it was so messy. so wet and sloppy. he wrapped his slender fingers around your neck, pulling you against his chest, strokes long and slow.

you couldn’t tell if your vision was turning black from how tight his hand was around your throat or from the intense pleasure. you couldn’t think anymore, mind fuzzy and blank, only thinking about him, him, and him.

“sooo good.. so good, don’t stop.” you choked out, and he shuttered inside of you, pushing you face-first into the cushions and delivering another hard slap onto your ass.

“yeah?” he moaned as he rutted into you, desperately chasing his own release. his tip pounded your cervix with each thrust and tears began to roll down your face.

“this is what you wanted right?” he rasped, stilling his hips again and pushing his cock in as far as it can go, “s’ all yours, pretty. this dick is all yours, fuck..”

the position is pushing you further and further to your orgasm, his hand pushing your head down as he slowly fucked your poor cunt. you were seeing fucking stars, something you only seen when he fucked you like this.

“s-so big.” you sobbed, reaching behind yourself to hold onto his wrist. you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down your face. your brain stopped functioning and you were certain that he was, in fact, fucking you dumb.

“you wanna cum?” hyuck questioned, he moved his hands off of you, leaning back slightly, “then bounce that shit on me.”

and you complied, fucking yourself on his big cock, pushing your body back and forth onto him while he watched, loving how you desperately tried to get yourself off. he was all the way in your stomach, abusing that spot deep inside of you.

“fuckfuckfuck, m’ close..” you moaned. and without a word, hyuck tightened his hands around your waist, fucking into you as you came hard around him, squeezing him so fucking tight. your body tensed the convulsed, a thick white ring forming at the base of his cock.

“s-shit.” he stuttered, quickly pulling out of you and pulling the rubber off, pumping his cock until his cum spurted all over your ass and back.

he left and you felt the weight of the couch dip when he came back with paper towels, and he wiped the mess off of your back, and then helped you sit up. you hated this part. you were sore, felt nasty, and awkward.

“s’ nothing to be embarrassed about. we’ve been doing this for a while now..” hyuck chuckled, slipping his boxers back on.

“i’m not embarrassed it’s.. i’m still mad at you.” hyuck gave you a look and tsked at your words, “i give you what you wanted and you’re still whining?”

well.. he was right. but you had the right to be mad at him. ignoring you for weeks? really? “i meant it when i said that i don’t want you fucking her anymore.”

he pursed his lips, and sighed. “fine. then don’t be seeing other dudes.”

“fine.”

“fine.” he repeated.

now, you were kinda glad that you ignored his initial call.

this is horrible but irdc

[demie90s]

Can I Call You Rose

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ CAITLIN CLARK X READER ꒱ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST MORE

⭑ pairing: Caitlin Clark x reader (teammate!fem!reader who’s hopelessly in love with her)

⭑ summary: You’re one of Iowa’s strongest players—but you’ve never wanted the W. No scouts, no pressure. You’re not here for the league. You’re here for her. Caitlin Clark. The girl with the boyfriend.

⭑ genre: Emotional tension, soft obsession, quiet devotion, unspoken love, she-has-a-boyfriend pain

⭑ warnings: Emotional cheating themes, reader down bad but strong about it, public softness, locker room tension

⭑ word count: ~ 1k

Another win.

Another twenty-point performance.

Another night where the crowd screams her name—Caitlin Clark—and you blend right into the hum of gold and black pride, content to orbit the star.

Your hair’s still damp when you step into the locker room. Laughter echoes. Sneakers squeak against tile. Someone’s already queuing up music, but it’s background noise. You move with practiced ease—unbothered, unfazed, quiet. You towel off, peel the jersey halfway off your frame, and grab your duffle bag.

No rush.

Because you know what you’re about to do.

Same as always.

You reach inside and pull out a bouquet—today it’s rich, velvet-red roses with flecks of white petals tucked between. Like they were made to match her game night fit.

You don’t hesitate.

The team’s still too busy rehashing plays and arguing over who had the coldest move of the night. You walk the stretch of the room, your slides soft against the tile, until you’re standing right in front of her.

Caitlin.

Hair pulled up in a messy bun. Still flushed from the game. Her white compression shirt clinging to her like she was made to be sculpted in sweat and tension. She’s mid-laugh, shoulder bumped up against Hannah’s, when she looks up—and sees you.

Her smile falters. Not in a bad way. Just in that you-have-all-my-attention-now way.

You hold the flowers out.

“Again?” she says, smiling now, quieter than before.

You nod, a slow pull of your lips. “Every time.”

She reaches for them like she’s afraid they’ll dissolve if she’s too rough. Her fingers brush yours, and you pretend not to flinch.

But you feel it.

You always do.

Her boyfriend’s name—Coner—lingers in the air like a ghost no one wants to mention. But she never brings him up around you. Not out loud. Not when you hand her flowers like they grew from your own chest.

Caitlin holds them gently and says, “You really don’t have to—”

“I know,” you cut in. “I want to.”

She doesn’t argue. Just stares at the petals like they’re a secret, and you’re the only one who knows the language.

And maybe you are.

Interview Clip – Goes Viral That Night

“You and Caitlin have a great on-court dynamic—how would you describe it?”

(You laugh a little, looking off-camera. Then back.)

“Caitlin… she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. Inside and out.”

“Is it hard playing alongside someone you’re that close to?”

(You smile, no shame.)

“Not hard at all. Loving her is easy.”

“Do you want to go pro?”

(You pause. Then shrug.)

“Not really. I’m just here until she’s gone.”

⸻

Online Comments:

“Reader’s not playing for the draft. She’s playing for Caitlin Clark’s heart.”

“This girl drops 30 and still gives Caitlin the credit. She’s GONE.”

“Caitlin has a boyfriend and a soulmate and they’re not the same person.”

“Bro this is like a Nicholas Sparks novel in real time.”

⸻

Two Hours Later – Outside Carver-Hawkeye Arena

You’re waiting by her car.

People always want a word with Caitlin. A quote, a soundbite, a glimpse. You let her have that. You’ve never needed to compete. You don’t want the mic. You want her.

Eventually, the door swings open and she walks out with her duffle slung over her shoulder and the flowers clutched in her other hand. Still.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” she says, stopping in front of you.

“You didn’t think I’d leave.”

She doesn’t argue.

The parking lot is mostly empty now. It’s late. Cold. Her breath fogs in the air as she unlocks the door and tosses her bag in the back. She doesn’t get in right away.

You stand close. Not touching. But the space between you hums.

Her voice dips low. “I don’t know why you do this.”

“Because you let me.”

She looks at you.

It’s not a glare. Not a warning. Just a deep, tired gaze like she’s been holding her breath for months and doesn’t know how to let it go.

“It’s not fair to you,” she says.

You tilt your head. “I’m not asking for anything.”

“You’re in love with me.”

It’s not a question. You nod anyway.

“I am.” She swallows. Looks down at the bouquet in her hand.

“I have a boyfriend.”

You nod again. “I know.” She doesn’t move. Neither do you.

“But he doesn’t love me like this,” she says quietly.

Your chest tightens. Not in pain. In something heavier.

“I know,” you say. “I’ve seen the way he stands beside you like you’re optional. Like you’re lucky to have him.”

You step closer. Still not touching.

“But you’re not lucky to have anybody, Caitlin. We’re lucky to be near you.”

Her lips part like she wants to speak. But nothing comes out.

So you finish it for her.

“You’re living like you’re waiting for something to change. And you’re scared of being the one who changes it.”

Silence.

Then: “What if I don’t know how to stop this?”

You breathe in slow. Deep. Controlled.

“Then don’t stop it. Just… choose it.”

She closes her eyes. And for one terrifying, beautiful second, you think she’s going to kiss you. But she doesn’t. She opens her eyes instead. Her voice is a whisper now. “Do you mean it? All of it?”

You nod.

Every word.

Every flower.

Every look across the bench when she’s tying her shoes and you’re staring like you invented her.

Every time you call her name softer than the rest of the world ever has.

All of it.

“Yes.” She looks away. Then back.

And finally—finally—she steps forward. Her hand finds yours.

Fingers laced. Slow. Natural. No kiss. Not yet. Just proof.

That tonight, she picked something. Maybe not out loud. Maybe not fully. But you feel it.

You feel her.

She doesn’t let go.

And you don’t ask her to.

⸻

Online That Night:

“reader is only playing for Caitlin at this point.”

“Caitlin got 5 NIL deals and one girl who treats her like a religion.”

“this is NOT a team dynamic. this is a love story with rebounds.”

“y’all seen how reader looks at her during timeouts? that ain’t basketball.”

“she’s gonna leave the league before she leaves Caitlin.”

[pazzi5351]

Ivy

Paige x Azzi

Pt 1: i thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me

AN: Ok so someone said this and I immediately had to get to work. ALSO THE BEGINNING IN ITALICS IS PAIGES DREAM IF IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE!!! ALSO ALSO, the beginning is timed in Covid when Paige stayed with the fudd’s!

Word count: 1.2k

————————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi were walking around the Minnesota state fair. A little tradition they’d picked up during their first year being friends.

Unlike the first time they visited the fair, where their hands brushed as they walked side by side, they held hands. Interlocked. A silent vow..

While they walked, Paige noticed a “pop a shot” game booth. In the booth, the thing that caught her eye the most was the big unicorn plush that just screamed Azzi. She rushed over to it, pulling Azzi’s arm with her in the process.

“Hey Az, play me in pop a shot! If I win, I’ll get you the big unicorn.” Paige said, excited knowing this is a time where she could be extra competitive if it meant Azzi gets something out of it.

“Fine, but if I win I’m still getting the unicorn. You just won’t have the satisfaction of winning it for me.” Azzi replied, smirking at Paige, squeezing her hand once.

Their game flowed. Their trash talk fueled. But eventually, Paige won.

As soon as her final ball went through the hoop, she was pointing the game worker to the unicorn. As soon as the worker handed her the unicorn, she handed it off to Azzi.

“For you m’lady.” Paige laughed, as she bowed dramatically, handing over the plush.

Azzi rolled her eyes as she reached for the unicorn. “My knight in shining armor! How can I ever repay you?”

Paige laughed and smiled softly. Only looking at Azzi, trying to burn her image in her brain. “Hm, maybe a ride on the Ferris wheel will suffice.”

Azzi reached for Paige’s hand. “Let’s go then bighead!”

Letting herself be pulled along, Paige could only smile. She had Azzi. Her best friend. Her ride or die. The love of her life.

On the way to the top of the Ferris wheel, Paige and Azzi talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Paige loved learning Azzi.

The way she loves to read. The way she grins a little when she’s excited. How in the quiet moments, the way she looks at Paige like she’s the best thing in the world.

When they stopped at the top, Azzi looked over at the sunset. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Paige was already looking at Azzi. Not the sunset the brunette was referring to.

“Yeah, it is.”

Azzi turned around, seeing Paige already looking her, and smiled. She gently cupped the side of Paige’s face, leaning in just enough so their noses were slightly brushing.

“Have I ever told you I love you? I feel like I haven’t.” Azzi said, her voice just above a whisper.

Paige gasped, lips parting slightly. Breathlessly. It’s not like she didn’t know Azzi loved her. It was in all the lingering moments. The late night one on one. Talking until the sun came up. And everything good between them.

“I love you too Az.”

Azzi leaned in, fully closing the gap between them and—

Paige’s eyes shot open as she woke up.

She blinked a few times then sat up slowly, trying not to wake Azzi, her heartbeat still racing from the dream.

It had felt too real. The fair, the unicorn, the Ferris wheel. The way Azzi said I love you like she meant it with every part of her.

And the *almost* kiss.

That part nearly broke her.

Paige blinked hard, wiping a hand across her face. She turned to her side and saw Azzi—peaceful, tucked into the comforter, one arm slung over Paige’s waist like she belonged there.

And that just made it worse.

Because she did belong there. At least in Paige’s head. In her dreams. In that secret place where everything was soft and honest and safe. Where Paige didn’t have to pretend this wasn’t the most important relationship she’d ever had.

But here? Now? In the real world?

Azzi was her best friend. Nothing more. Nothing ever.

Paige grabbed her phone off the nightstand, trying to breathe around the pressure in her chest..

Don’t be weird. Don’t make it weird, she told herself. You guys are just best friends.

She scrolled mindlessly, refreshing Instagram, switching to Twitter, trying to drown out her thoughts. But it was too quiet. Too present.

Behind her, Azzi stirred. Then groaned dramatically.

“Why are you up? It’s too early for you.” Azzi mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. She rolled over, flopping her entire body on top of Paige with zero hesitation, her weight familiar and grounding.

Paige stiffened under her. Then softened a bit, guilt pooling in her stomach.

Don’t make it weird, she told herself again.

Azzi lifted her head just enough to meet Paige’s eyes.

For one second, everything froze. The eye contact—barefaced, close, intimate—felt too much like her dream. Paige could feel the heat rise in her neck.

Azzi blinked, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a lazy grin and a face Paige didn’t recognize.

And then—

“YO!” Katie’s voice rang from downstairs. “Breakfast! Eggs are getting cold!”

Azzi jolted up. “Let’s gooo, I’m starving,” she said,hopping out of bed like she hadn’t just laid on top of Paige with her whole chest.

Paige stayed still. She listened to Azzi’s footsteps fade down the hallway, then let her head fall back against the pillow.

Her chest ached in that strange, quiet way. They way she couldn’t quite put a name on. The way it always did when she remembered that loving Azzi the way she really wanted to? Wasn’t something that was allowed.

Downstairs, the kitchen was already buzzing. Jose was finishing his first plate of pancakes. Tim and Jon were talking over each other about a TikTok they were trying to recreate. Katie was humming at the stove.

Azzi was already sitting, scooping eggs onto her plate and stealing a piece of bacon off Tim’s.

Paige walked in a minute later, slower, trying to calm herself. She offered a sleepy “morning,” then sat in her seat. The open seat next to Azzi.

The moment she sat down, Azzi lightly hit her knee under the table.

“What’s up with you?” She asked. “You’re like brooding.”

Paige forced a laugh. “Nothin’s up. I’m good.”

Azzi tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at Paige like she didn’t fully believe her, but she didn’t press. “Ok. Anywhoo—” she perked up, excited to change the topic, “Michael invited me to a party tonight and I think he might like me!”

Paige nearly choked on her bacon. “Michael?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said casually, still picking at her food. “He’s cool, I mean I have a few classes with him. But yeah, I think I might go, if I’m allowed.”

Paige’s throat dried. She focused on her plate, not really eating off of it anymore, tried not to let her face show anything. “Cool.”

Paige’s throat dried. She focused on her plate, tried not to let her face show anything. “Cool.”

“I mean, I don’t like him-like him,” Azzi added quickly, then shrugged. “But he’s kinda cute, and it’ll be fun.”

“Totally,” Paige said, voice too flat. “You should go.”

Azzi smiled, already moving on to some story about how Michael complimented her shoes in the hallway like it was the biggest news of the day.

And Paige just nodded along, trying to pretend her heart hadn’t just fallen out of her chest and got stomped on.

Because it didn’t matter how real the dream felt.

Azzi didn’t love her like that.

And Paige would never be the one Azzi woke up dreaming about.

[sillylilsquid]

𝕲𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

♥︎summary: When you stumble across the Instagram of a rising rapper named Thanos whose music and charisma captivate you, you never expect for a relationship to blossom. Taking a leap of faith you travel to visit him in Korea. The chemistry between you two is undeniable. Though one night and one little pill drives a wedge between you, causing you to return home feeling heartbroken and hopeless. Just when you start to move on Thanos reaches out, desperate to make admins. Against all odds you give the purple haired man one final chance. Where music and your deep rooted feelings for each other intertwine you together again.

♥︎trigger warnings: au, no squid game. afab reader, sexual themes, brief descriptions of verbal/physical abuse, drinking, drug use, oc thanos. minors dni!! 18+

♥︎a/n: 10.3k words. purple text is thanos, pink text is you. credit goes to @lexalith for my inspo from their fic 'friends' plz read it, it's so good :')

It was never your intention to fall for him. For Thanos. A korean rapper you met on Instagram who slid into your dm’s so casually. Your friend had sent you a link to his music, and after listening to it you searched for him on Instagram. His music wasn’t really your taste, per say, but his voice was what caught your attention. The way he rapped, the words spilling off his tongue so easily. His seemingly cocky attitude. It drew you in. After scrolling through all of his posts you decided to follow him. His feed was pictures of him in a recording studio, arms wrapped around women dressed in tiny clothes, his smoking. You could tell he lived a party boy lifestyle.

What you weren’t expecting was for him to follow you back. He wasn’t very famous, but he still had no reason to follow you back. So you always wondered why he did it. Until he started interacting with you. He’d like your posts and stories, occasionally he’d comment on them. You never thought much of it, thinking it was a way for him to attract more fans. Then one day as you sat on your couch studying, your phone vibrated on the table next to you. Absent-mindedly your hand grabbed for it and when your eyes tore away from your homework to see the notification you were in shock.

Instagram: direct message from legendthanos. Your finger hesitated before opening the app and then your messages. you haven’t posted in awhile senorita. miss seeing your pretty face :( 

You sat in utter disbelief. This had to be some sort of prank, a sick joke. This man had no clue who you were. You didn’t even live in Korea; in fact you didn’t even technically live in England, you were just there to study abroad. Thoughts raced through your head and you fought with yourself to even respond to him. But then you gave in–I mean what could go wrong? He doesn’t even know you, if it got weird you could just block him. You decided to keep it short and to the point. 

nocturnalnymph: you don’t even know me, but thanks

legendthanos: i could get to know you 

notcurnalnymph: nahhh i don’t think you’d want to

legendthanos: don’t play hard to get mama, lemme get to know you

notcurnalnymph: mama? really?

legendthanos: ;)

The messages went on like that for a few days. He’d ask how you were doing, or he’d message you saying he was bored and wanted to talk. He’d send pictures of whatever he was doing. And you. Well you kept your replies limited, and when you did reply they were nothing special. Part of you felt bad because you didn’t want to come off as rude, but you also didn’t want to lead him on considering you didn’t even live in the same country. Neither of you had a chance.

Thanos was persistent though. Even if you didn’t reply, he’d keep on messaging you. You had to give it to him, the messages did make your day every time you saw them. Eventually you started to reply more. You had even started to send him pictures too. Of your outfit, or your homework, or random things throughout your day. Then one day with no other words he sent you his phone number. The numbers stared at you, daring you to save them. You did.

The two of you began texting which was a lot easier than messaging on Instagram. Any time you’d see that the three little dots pop up to indicate he was typing you would grow excited. You had a mini heart attack every time he replied to you. A smile was always present on your face anytime you’d talk to him. Your friends began to grow concerned about why you were glued to your phone. You had never been one to be on your phone all the time. But with Thanos on the other end you couldn’t resist. You played it off, lying and saying it was someone you met at a bar. They couldn’t know it was Thanos. They would think you were insane! Hell, maybe you were.

Texts turned into phone calls which turned into facetime calls. The time difference was difficult, but the two of you figured it out. Thanos would say he didn’t care if he had to stay up all night, as long as he got to see you. The two of you would talk about anything and everything. There was never a lull in your conversations. He even told you his real name. You knew deep down he was probably using you, but the feeling of being liked outweighed that thought.

You laid in bed, blankets pulled up around you as you watched Thanos on the other side of the phone. He was getting ready for a show. You helped him pick out an outfit and now you sat watching him fix his hair. Occasionally he’d stop to hit his vape, always smirking at you as he blew out the smoke. You’d tease him, telling him how bad it was for him. “I wish I could go to your show.” you mumbled, pouting at him. Thanos chuckled, “Baby girl, I told you I’d pay for you to come anytime you want. I’m just waiting for you to say when.” The nickname made you blush. He always had some sort of nickname for you. He was the king of sweet talk. Calling you baby girl, or beautiful, or your favorite being ‘his girl.’ Damn it made you feel special.

Then one day you received a text from Thanos, you knew it was late in Korea. You sat in shock as you stared at the picture on your phone. 

I know you did NOT just send me a picture of your dick 🫣

oops wrong person

lol jk

all for you baby ;)

Su bong! 

Facetiming him grew less and less innocent when one day he answered right after a shower. His chest still dripping with water. You knew he was naked and you tried not to stare. How could you not!? His tattooed skin glistened. He teased you that night, going on and on about how you were staring. Practically drooling like a dog. And before you knew it you were watching him jerk off. You sat in your bed, eyes wide. You didn’t even want to blink in fear you would miss something. Your thighs pressed together to relieve the pressure you felt between them. It didn’t stop there. The two of you frequently found yourself sending dirty photos, and getting off together. It became routine. Talk about your days, flirt, jerk off. Hearing your name fall off his lips never failed to make you wet. 

A few more weeks passed and you finally agreed to meet him. It was spring break so you didn’t have to worry about school for two weeks. You didn’t tell him at first, and booked your ticket with your own money. Once he found out he wasn’t very happy. Complaining to you how he had wanted to pay for it. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his complaints. “If you keep it up I’ll cancel my trip.” you said, though it was an empty threat.

Once at the airport you texted him. About to get on the plane, see you in 12 short hours! 😚 He replied quickly, safe travels mama xoxo. A few seconds later he sent another: can’t wait to get my hands on you ;). The trip was long and stressful. You hated flying, especially by yourself. As you grabbed your suitcase you stopped by the bathroom to freshen up. You fixed your hair, put on some perfume and hoped that even though you weren’t dressed up that he would still think you were cute. It was a silly thought, you shouldn’t care what he thinks of you…but you did.

Thanos stood in the airport waiting for you. He had stepped outside multiple times to smoke in hopes to ease his nerves. He was a wreck. Never before had he been so nervous over a girl. He was Thanos, the rapper. The man who could get any woman he wanted, whenever he wanted. But something about you was different. Talking to you felt different than flirting with any other girl. He raked his hands through his purple hair for what had to be the hundredth time then headed back inside. 

You watched as the purple haired man entered the doors, and you stopped in your tracks. The two of you stared at each other before he rushed towards you. Thanos tightly snaked his hands around your waist, your arms going around his neck. “Fuck you smell so good,” he groaned, burrying his face in your hair. Your skin flushed with a warm blush. “What a great first thing to say to me.” you teased him. “Goddamn, you are so much sexier in person.” his words rolled off his tongue. His voice sent shivers down your spine. He had pulled back just enough to admire you, smirking. 

You followed him out to his car, allowing him to carry your suitcase. His height towered over you, making your normal confident self feel small and shy. His car smelt like weed mixed with the scent of his cologne. It was overwhelming, intoxicating in the best possible way. The drive to his place was short and you stared out the window the whole time. The only place you had traveled before was to London for school. Never had you expected to be in Korea, especially with a man you had been flirting with from Instagram. If your friends or god forbid your parents knew what you were doing you’d be in so much trouble.

“Seoul is really pretty.” you commented, following him up to his tiny apartment. Thanos laughed, “it’s alright, great parties though.” he unlocked the door and pushed it open for you. The apartment looked no different than what you had seen on facetime. It was messy–clothes and shoes strung about, but it didn’t bother you. You were just thankful he was letting you stay here and not making you pay for a hotel. You stood in his living room, watching him as he set your stuff in his room then came back out to you. Shyly your fingers fumbled with the seam of your sweater. Feeling self conscious under his gaze.

Thanos grabbed for your hand, pulling you a step closer to him. “Wanna go out tonight?” he offered, and you shrugged. You really didn’t care what the two of you did. “My friend, Nam Gyu, he owns Club Pentagon. Shit gets crazy there! Or are you not a club girl?” his hand caressed your cheek briefly. You didn’t want to lie to him, you rarely partied. Once in a while you would go out drinking with your friends, but it was rare. “I can be a club girl if that’s what you want.” you teased him, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Thanos tightened his grip on you. “Yeah, that’s my girl.” he mumbled, bringing you into a hug.

That evening you were thankful you decided to pack at least one nicer outfit. You knew he’d want to party, it was his signature. You threw on a tight skirt, and a random band shirt that you tied in the front exposing the skin of your stomach. You didn’t have any heels, so you settled for your platform doc martens–good enough, you thought. Your makeup was simple and you wore your hair down, knowing how much Thanos loved it like that.

Thanos sat vaping on his couch and playing on his phone when you walked in. His eyes slowly drifted up and down your body as if to mesmerize every curve. Worried that if he blinked you would disappear into thin air before his very eyes. He cleared his throat, letting out a few compliments as the two of you walked down to his car. Even though he had called you sexy and beautiful before…this time felt different. You picked at your nail polish when he drove, beginning to feel anxious. Sensing your unease he reached out and rested a hand on your knee. It caught you off guard, but it did soothe your nerves.

At the club Thanos never let you out of his sight. He’d always be touching you in some way. An arm around your shoulders, his hand in yours; not wanting you to go anywhere without him. The club was huge and packed tightly with people. The smell of sweat, weed, and alcohol made your head feel fuzzy. You took a few shots with Thanos and his friends, but tried not to drink too much. You were a lightweight, and there was no way you’d embarrass yourself in front of him on the first night. He danced with you and even in the sea of people it felt like it was just you and him. 

Nothing happened that night. Or the next two nights. You were a little disappointed he hadn’t even kissed you. You knew him to be so bold and cocky, and even though he did act like that around you he still hadn’t made a move. You weren’t going to. Not until you knew he felt the same. Texting and facetime were so different than in person. What if he simply didn’t find you as attractive in person?

The next couple days were the same. You two would spend the day together doing different things around the city and go party at night. In fact, you were beginning to really like going out with him. Maybe clubbing was your thing, you just needed a man like Thanos with you. Tonight you wore one of his shirts. Your favorite one. It was bright green and fell mid thigh on you. You paired it again with your boots, but wore the shirt as a dress. Thanos became more handsy that night. 

You two drank together at Club Pentagon and you grew bold enough to pull him out to the dance floor. Back pressed tightly against his chest you swayed your hips. “So fucking hot. Wearing my favorite fucking shirt, fuck.” he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. The alcohol in your system seemed to make you feel bold. “You really like it?” you teased, tilting your head back to look up at him. He stared into your eyes with his half lidded ones. His eyes were dark. “Fuck yeah–fuck.” he grumbled, closing his eyes momentarily. He felt him against your back, his cock straining against his jeans. 

You hadn’t planned on having sex with him so soon, but damn he made it so hard to resist him. Turning in his arms, your hand tangled in the back of his hair, pulling him roughly to your lips. Thanos kissed you back with just as much passion. His fingers drifted up under the shirt you wore, and trailed higher and higher. Part of you felt shy and worried others would see. But the other part of you just wanted to jump his bones. 

The two of your lips moved in sync as if they were meant for each other. Your fingers played with his hair and soon you pulled yourself off him to catch your breath. Heart pounding in your chest while you stared up at him. Lips swollen from kissing. Cheeks hot with a blush. Your eyes stole a quick glance down at his jeans. 

“You just gonna tease me? Or are you gonna finish what you started baby?” his voice was teasing, trying to get a rise out of you. Trying to fluster you. You held your chin high. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied innocently. Then you turned to walk back to the bar. Thanos stood in the middle of the dance floor, mouth agape as you walked away. “Fucking tease.” he muttered to himself, taking a drag from his vape. 

You weren’t alone for very long at the bar when Thanos caught up to you. He slid into the seat next to you and buried his face into your neck. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said just barely loud enough for you to hear over the music. “Wearing my fucking shirt, pressing your ass against me–I think you need to finish what you started.” your body stiffened just slightly. “Unless you’re too scared.” “Never.” you grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the nearest bathroom. 

He barely shoved the two of you into a small stall before you were tugging his jeans down. Thanos leaned back against the door, staring down at you. His chest rising and falling quickly. You had to admit you were nervous. It had been a long time since you had been with a guy. But you acted so cocky over the phone, you couldn’t let your facade slip now. His cock sprung out of his boxers and you sunk to your knees before him. He wasted no time in tangling his hand into your hair. Though he wasn’t rough he was firm, holding your head in place. He grasped his cock with his free hand, tapping it against your cheek. Then against your lips. Silently you opened your mouth. 

The sound that escaped his lips was animalistic. You took him in your mouth, grabbing onto his thighs to steady yourself. You let him move your head and thrust into your mouth. His cock hit the back of your throat. Tears welled in your eyes as you held back a gag. But you let him continue. You let him fuck your mouth however he pleased. Warmth spread through you, your thighs clenching together to relieve some of the pressure building up. Thanos continued to huff and groan above you, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. His head leaned back against the door but he kept his eyes on yours. You never closed your eyes. Wanting to watch him the whole time.

“That’s a g-good girl,” he moaned, his voice deep and lust filled. “My good girl, hmm.” you nodded ever so slightly. “Gonna make me cum with your pretty little mouth.” he said, making you squeeze his thighs. Thanos' hips moved more sloppy now, his pace faltering ever so slightly as he reached his orgasm. “Fuck, fuck,” he cursed. “Look at you taking it. Look beautiful with your mouth on my cock.” and with that, he came. Even though his hand stopped moving, you continued to move your head. Wanting to get every last drop of cum from him. Once you pulled away you wiped the drool off your chin and stood up.

Your legs felt wobbly so you reached out for him. He held you tightly, not letting you fall. “I knew you had a pretty mouth, but god fucking damn.” His words made the desire in your core grow. He had always talked to you like that online, but in person felt so much more intimate. Thanos pulled up his jeans, fixing himself before he unlocked the bathroom stall. When he stepped out you stood in place. Not feeling like you could move. 

“I didn’t forget about you, baby girl,” he grasped your wrist. “We’re going home.” you followed him as he weaved through the crowd of people. He stopped briefly to talk to Nam Gyu, who looked at you and laughed. You knew Thanos had to have told him why you two were leaving so suddenly. Your cheeks were on fire and you tugged at his hand, wanting very much to escape the uncomfortable situation.

He obliged, dragging you out towards his car. His pace was face and his strides were long. You struggled to keep up. He noticed and stopped in his tracks causing you to bump into him. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. “Put me down!” you exclaimed, a squeal escaped your lips as you held onto him. You tried to use one hand to pull the shirt down to keep your butt covered. Thanos’ hand moved yours away so he could spank you. 

He threw you into the passenger seat and the two of you were back in his apartment in record time. Thanos barely had the front door closed before he pushed you against it and trapped you with his own body. “Thanos.” you giggled, feeling ticklish as his lips traced your neck. The way he kissed and bit at your skin drove you crazy. 

“Can’t believe you sucked me off at the club,” he chuckled. The sensation sent chills down your body. “What a little slut. My slut.” you nodded frantically, fisting his tee shirt in your hands. Never before had a man called you that…and if it weren’t Thanos you probably would’ve felt different. But when he said it your head spun.

Again he lifted you over his shoulder as he marched towards his bedroom. He tossed you down on the bed like you weighed nothing. Your body bounced by the force of you hitting the mattress. You laid there; hair sprawled out against his black comforter, shirt pushed up to expose your panties. Panting. You felt like a dog in heat. You needed him. More than you had ever needed anything in your life.

Thanos took his time undressing you. He slipped your shoes off first and kissed up your body. Your shirt was next to go. It landed somewhere amongst the mess of his room. Left in just your bra and panties, you felt exposed. The cold air making your skin grow goosebumps. You tried to cover yourself up shyly but Thanos was quick to pull your hands away. “Stay here.” he rushed out of the room in search of his phone. Quickly returning to you with a smirk. Thanos stood in front of you and took a picture, then tossed his phone to the side. “Gotta have something to remember you by when you’re gone.” he teased.

“Thanos!” you reached up, as if you were trying to steal his phone away but he pushed you back against the mattress. He started at your feet again, resuming his kisses up your body. Every so often he would bite at your plush skin. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to calm yourself down. Your bra and panties were ripped off your body. “Hey! Those were expensive!” you exclaimed, pouting up at him. “Don’t worry mama, I’ll buy you more.” you rolled your eyes at the nickname. No matter how many times you’d beg him to stop calling you that, he never would. 

His tattooed hand pushed your thighs apart. A finger tracing up and down your entrance before landing on your clit. Thanos took him time. Teasing you, because he knew it drove you crazy. Once you were crying out and begging for him he pushed off his jeans. Even though you’d just seen him earlier, you were still in awe of how big his cock was.

Lining himself up with you he took his time pressing just the tip in. You felt yourself stretch around him, and you saw how visibly tense Thanos was trying to hold himself back. Then once he knew you were ready he slammed his hips into you. You screamed out his name, and he moaned yours. His hips moved frantically, the sound of his skin slapping against yours sounded crude in the silent room. There was no way the neighbors didn’t hear the scene.

It didn’t take very long for that familiar feeling to build in the bottom of your stomach. “Thanos..I-I’m gonna, gonna c-cum.” you managed to get out between moans. He praised you, waiting to feel you clench against his cock. The sensation almost sending him over the edge. He pulled out, pumping himself a few times in his hand before spilling his seed onto your stomach. You watched with half lidded eyes, soaking in the sight in front of you. His naked chest heaved, sweat dripped down his forehead. Once he was finished his eyes met yours. A smirk plastered on his face.

“I knew that pussy would be good.” Thanos said. You covered your face in your hands. “Stop! You know that stuff makes me shy!” you exclaimed. His laugh sounded like music in your ears. “Yeah baby girl, why do you think I do it so much? I love seeing my girl all flustered.” your heart skipped a beat when he called you his girl again. 

Thanos finally pulled himself off you and offered you a hand. He started a shower for you and left you alone to clean up. You washed off the sweat and cum on you, then washed the makeup off your face. For a few minutes you stood in the shower replaying the previous events. You had never been fucked like that before. You had never came as hard as you did when Thanos was inside you. It felt like a sin. The good kind. The kind that made you feel like sinning over and over again.

You laughed to yourself thinking about your friends' reactions if they found out. Everything you were doing was very much unlike you, but Thanos made you feel different. You weren’t sure if he was actually different from other guys, but you wanted to think he was.

After your shower you tugged on another one of his shirts and a fresh pair of underwear. You brushed the tangles out of your hair and returned to his bedroom. Thanos laid on his bed, in only a pair of boxers. He was vaping and humming along to music that played from his phone. His music, you recognized. Standing in the doorway you took a moment to admire him. His tattoos, his muscles. Everything about him seemed so perfect.

A week went by and you two spent a lot of your time together having sex. He would take you anywhere; he’d lift you up on the kitchen counter, in the shower, in his car. Your body was sore and screaming for a day off–but you wouldn’t allow it. You didn’t know the next time you would get to see him in person so you had to enjoy it while you could.

One night you went over to Nam Gyu’s house. It was only a small group of their closest friends. Everyone sat around drinking, smoking weed, and laughing. You sat a little outside of their group feeling somewhat left out. You had decided not to drink, and you didn’t like the way weed made you feel. But you let them do their thing. You were a guest, you weren’t going to interrupt their fun. Nam Gyu poked fun at you a few times, and you half expected Thanos to say something but he didn’t. Well he did…but instead of standing up for you, he joined in.

Laughing about you were a prude with drinking and party drugs, but you were loose when it came to your body. The comment surprised you. “Yeah this bitch can’t get enough of me!” he exclaimed, leaning back against the couch. A few people laughed, but you sat there completely silent. “Practically begs me every single day. Huh, slut?” That caught you off guard. He’d never called you bitch. He’d never called you a slut outside of the bedroom–and even when he did say it, his inflection showed he was only joking. This time it didn't feel like a joke.

“Don’t call me that,” you mustered up the courage to say. Your body language, however, gave away how embarrassed you felt. Thanos repeated your words in a mocking tone. It had to be because he was high, you thought to yourself. You watched Nam Gyu give him some type of pill earlier. Thanos had swallowed it eagerly. He wasn’t thinking straight. That’s all…right?

The evening went on and Thanos never let up on his words. It got to the point you weren’t embarrassed anymore, you were pissed off. “Thanos,” you said when you got a brief moment alone with him. He ignored you, taking a long drag from his joint. “Thanos.” you repeated, your tone growing annoyed. Again, no response. “Su bong.” His real name falling from your lips. His eyes snapped to yours. “Don’t fucking call me that, bitch.” His voice sounded angry, hateful.

“I-I want to leave,” your voice faltered ever so slightly. “Please can we go?” Thanos stood up, his posture tall and assertive. You coward beneath him, taking the smallest step backwards. Why was he acting like this? “Get to walking then.” he shrugged, staring down at you. Tempting you to argue with him. You took a second to collect your thoughts, not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone. 

You bit your lip briefly, wanting to assure your voice would be steady. “I can’t walk back to your apartment. I don’t even know how we got here!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in defeat. “Just take me back, then you can come finish whatever the hell you’re doing.” you bargained with him. “I’m not from here. I have no clue where anything is. Please.” you begged him now. Thanos grabbed your wrist, his grip tight. “Figure it out. Go whore around, maybe you’ll find a ride that way. Don’t wait up for me, I’m gonna find some other desperate whore to fuck tonight.” “Excuse me?” Maybe you hadn’t heard him right. “Dumb fucking bitch.” 

A tear fell out of your eye and started to race down your cheek. You hated yourself for crying. Yes, you were hurt by his words but you were more angry than sad. The Thanos, the Su bong, you knew would never talk to you like that. 

“I said don’t call me that.” your voice was more angry now, and you reached up to push him away from you. He barely stumbled backwards, but that seemed to just set him off. Thanos lunged forwards, pushing you back. Your back hit the wall and you felt the breath being knocked out of you. “Don’t you ever lay your hands on me.” he sounded so distant, like a whole different person. His pupils were huge. It was obvious how high he was.

“Don’t fucking push me!” you yelled at him, and without thinking you slapped him. Your hand stung as it made contact with his cheek. You froze. Not believing you did what you just did. No fucking way you slapped him. Thanos laughed in your face before he reached up and slapped you back. Behind you heard his friends mumbling amongst themselves. One of them called out his name, but he ignored them. “Get the fuck out of my face, you fucking bitch,” he growled. “Stupid fucking slut. Leave!” 

You jumped, the loudness of his voice startling you. You struggled to escape how he had you pressed against the wall. When you managed to duck away from him you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door, slamming it as hard as you could behind you. Tears streamed down your face at a steady pace now. What were you supposed to do? Where were you supposed to go?

It was dark outside, and freezing cold. Your small sweater did hardly anything to keep you warm. You tried to retrace your steps, tried to remember the scenery from the drive over. A few times you got turned around. You considered finding the nearest hotel and paying for the night, but you couldn’t. You hardly knew the language; you relied on Thanos for basically everything. You trusted him. But no longer.

If your friends knew about this, they would’ve said “I told you so.” You hated yourself for even coming to Korea. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to feel the way you did. Should’ve kept everything on Instagram. In fact you never should have responded to him in the first place.

You weren’t sure how long it took you but you finally found a way to his apartment. You were thankful there was a key hiding under his doormat. Letting yourself in, you retreated to the bedroom. As you silently sobbed you packed your suitcase. There wasn’t much you could do this late at night, but in the morning you were leaving.

You changed out of your clothes into a pair of your sweatpants and a hoodie. Your makeup stained your cheeks. Skin blotchy from crying so hard. Hesitantly you laid in his bed. The smell of him overwhelmed your senses. Though you found comfort in it. You closed your eyes and prayed that sleep would take over you quickly. Then your phone buzzed.

baby did you really leave?

answer the phone

ur being ridiculous 

are you fucking someone else rn?

im sry, plz call me.

bitch 

answer your fucking phone 

baaaabbbbyyyy

In between his many text messages he would call. You never answered. You left his texts on read. They would fluctuate from being kind and trying to apologize, to spitting hate at you again. This went on for a while, but you never gave in. “Fuck you, Su bong.” you spoke out loud to yourself in the empty apartment. Before you knew it you were taken over by sleep.

When you awoke in the morning your head was pounding from all the crying. Thanos wasn’t in bed next to you, honestly you were expecting to not be home at all. Then you found him asleep on the couch. He was curled up with his hood over his head, no blanket or anything. A few minutes passed and you just stood there watching him. Contemplating waking him up.

“Thanos,” you whispered, poking his arm. No response. He was still breathing, at least he hadn't overdosed or something. “Thanos.” you said a bit louder this time. Slowly he groaned, rubbing his eyes. Then he sat up and looked at you. “Baby girl–” his voice was hoarse. “Don’t call me that.” you said plainly. “Take me to the airport. I’m going back to London.” You had made your mind up, there was nothing he could do to change that.

“Listen,” but you cut him off again. “I’m not listening to you. Take me to the fucking airport.” your voice was stern, your arms crossed over your chest. Thanos grumbled to himself, pushing past you to grab his keys. The drive to the airport was uncomfortable. He had turned the radio off and neither of you spoke. The silence was thick between you. 

Once he parked his car you reached for the handle, trying to leave as quickly as you could. He called your name. You hesitated, waiting to see if he had anything else to say. When he didn’t speak you turned to look at him. It was the first time you had made eye contact with him that morning. He remained silent. You laughed, shaking your head as you got out of the car and grabbed your suitcase from the trunk. 

Thanos followed you, grabbing your hand before you could walk into the airport. You again looked at him silently. Your name fell from his lips, barely a whisper. “Please don’t go.” his voice showed no emotion but his eyes pleaded to you. You shook your head, your mind was made up. When he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere he dropped your hand. “Leave then, I don’t care.” his words stung. Deep down they cut through you like knives.

Then you disappeared. Booked yourself a flight and returned to London that evening. You didn’t tell your friends. You wanted to be left alone. You needed to be alone. 

Spring break ended and you struggled to return to school. The first week back was miserable. Your friends knew something was wrong but you refused to tell them. Just saying you were in a slump, you’d get over it. A week later you dropped out of the spring semester. 

Not once did you get any messages from Thanos. Multiple times you found yourself typing out messages to send him. You never did. Sometimes they were heartfelt, professing your feelings for him. Others were hateful, asking how he could treat you the way he did and feel okay about it. Your finger always hovered over the send button, but you never pressed it.

One night as you laid on your couch watching a movie your voice buzzed. Your heart seemed to stop momentarily, and something screamed at you to look. What if it was Thanos? No it couldn’t be. He hadn’t texted you yet, he wouldn’t text you now. You were wrong. In fact he wasn’t texting you, he was calling you. You watched it ring and ring and eventually his name disappeared.

will u answer my call?

please i need to talk to u

baby plz

🙁

You couldn’t believe yourself but you typed out a response. Then deleted it. Then typed out another, and another until you settled on a simple one. It showed no emotion.

don’t call me baby.

im sry

mama 

plz answer my calls

Again his name flashed on your screen as he called you. And again you ignored it.

seriously call me

ik ur seeing these

dont be like this

like what? upset? because if you seriously think for a second that i will forgive u then ur fucking crazy

i know

then stop messaging me.

then answer my fucking call

Maybe if you did he would stop reaching out. He would end things. Tell you to never reach out, or tell you how much he hated you. So, you answered it.

You were silent. Not saying hello. Not saying a single word. He didn’t either for a minute. Then he spoke, “Please just listen to me.” you hummed impatiently waiting to see what excuse he would give you. “I am sorry, really fucking sorry.” Well that shocked you. You weren’t expecting an apology. Even if it was a fake one, you hadn’t expected that.

“That shit I took, it fucked me up. And after you left I took more, and more. Nam Gyu had to take me to the hospital…” he trailed off. Your fists clenched your blanket tighter around you. “Are you wanting me to feel sorry for you?” you finally spat out. “Because I will never feel sorry for a piece of shit like you. That was your fucking choice not mine and–”

He cut you off by saying your name. “No, that's not why I called. I called to apologize…I don’t apologize to people, but baby I am so fucking sorry.” “Stop fucking calling me baby!” you exclaimed. He sighed, “Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry.” Thanos went on to further explain himself. Going on about how bad he felt for how he treated you, how disgusted he was with himself that he hit you.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you tried so hard to swallow them back. They spilled over anyway. You thought you were done crying over this man. Yet here you were, on the phone with him crying yet again. You felt weak. Stupid. 

“I will never forgive you for what you did.” he stayed silent and allowed you to say your peace. “You embarrassed me. Treated me like trash, and then you kicked me out. I had no clue where I was. I don’t even know how I found my way to your apartment. In the dark! In the freezing cold!” you screamed at him now. Your breath came out in pants and you forced yourself to collect your thoughts before continuing. “What do you want from me?”

“For you to come back.” Thanos admitted. “You’re fucking kidding me!” you exclaimed. “Listen, if you really don’t want to then fine. I’ll leave you alone. Just tell me to go and I’ll go. But I want you to come back. I’ll send you the money for your trip. I gotta make it up to you, and once you’re here if you change your mind I’ll pay for your trip back. Just please, give me a chance. If you want me to leave you alone then just tell me now, and I will.”

His words hit you like a train. Heavy in your ears. You had to be dreaming, but when you pinched yourself nothing happened. It was unfortunately not a dream. Silence remained as he waited for your response. Then the word slipped past your lips before you could catch yourself.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay?” he asked. “Okay, I’ll come.” you couldn’t believe what you just said. How could you agree to this? Surely he was just going to hurt you again. It was inevitable. The two of you spoke for a little while longer and made plans for your flight. As promised he sent you the money for your ticket, and you purchased it while still on the phone with him. You would fly out in two days.

I’m really looking forward to seeing you<3

Me too

Awh come on! I know you’re more excited than that

have a safe flight

xoxo

💜😘

Your flight again was just as stressful as last time, if not more knowing that when you landed you would have to face him. Have to face your feelings. Thanos stood waiting for you just like before. His purple hair stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd. Your feet felt heavy as you walked towards him. He flashed you a smile and you offered him a small wave. The two of you stood facing each other, awkwardly. Then he hugged you. You didn’t reciprocate it at first, but after a moment your arms wrapped around him. That made his grasp tighten ever so slightly. “I missed you.” he whispered in your hair. You didn’t answer.

The car ride was silent, but not as uncomfortable as the previous time. The radio played softly in the background and Thanos offered you his hand. You took it in your smaller one, tracing over his tattoos absentmindedly. It calmed you down, and what you didn’t know was that it calmed him down too. Even if he looked calm and collected on the outside, on the inside he was a wreck. The time spent without you was a struggle. He was high most of the time, not wanting to be alone and sober with his memories.

Once at his apartment you sat on the edge of his couch not wanting to get too comfortable. You held a glass of water between your hands. Thanos sat on the other side, putting plenty of space between you. Finally you spoke.

“I never fucked anyone else.” He admitted. You weren’t sure if you trusted him or not. “Not while we were talking, not while you were here, and not when you left.” If that was the truth, it shocked you. I mean you hadn’t had sex with anyone else either, but you never had random hookups.

You brought the glass to your lips and took a small sip of water. Your mouth felt dry. “I’ve seen you high before, Thanos. You have never acted like that.” your voice was small, your eyes stayed glued to the ground. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him drag a hand down his face. “I don’t know what I took that night, but it messed me up. I was so pissed at Nam Gyu, I’ve never had a high like that.” his voice wavered. That’s when you looked up at him. His eyes were glassy, like he wanted to cry but was trying as hard as he could to keep his composure. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You whispered, eyes meeting his dark ones. His eyebrows raised in shock. “I don’t forgive you for what you did, I won’t ever forgive you for that. But you’re my friend, I don’t want to see bad stuff happen to you. So I am glad you’re okay.” Without a second thought your hand reached for his. Fingers traced along his tattoos. He thanked you over and over again, explaining how truly sorry he was. You listened, and never argued.

As much as you hated to admit it to yourself you did forgive him. After all, he was just human. There had been plenty of mistakes you made in your life, continuing to blame him for his poor decisions felt wrong. Your parents raised you to approach every one you encountered with grace. Always try to see their side. Even if his drug use wasn’t an excuse for his actions, you knew he struggled and that was enough for you to forgive him.

Thanos had a show the next evening. It was at a small bar in town that would host artists new to the music scene. He talked non stop about it, and you knew he was excited. Though the way he rambled on about it proved to you that he was nervous. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

He spoiled you that morning. Took you out for coffee, took you shopping at the mall. He bought you clothes, and a necklace even though you protested. He insisted on spoiling you. The two of you ate dinner at his favorite spot. The food was amazing and you both shared good conversation. You told him that you dropped out of spring semester. He was surprised because he knew how much school meant to you. He also knew that meant you would lose your scholarships and housing for studying abroad. It was talk you tried to evade. Not wanting to address it, not wanting that extra stress on your shoulders. You so desperately wanted to enjoy your trip. However, you knew when you returned to London you wouldn’t have a place to stay. That scared you.

Thanos offered for you to stay with him in Korea. At first you quickly declined it. The last you wanted was for something to happen again and you be left by yourself. In a city you didn’t know, with no money, and no place to live. You could always find a job, but you knew it would take time to find one that had other English speakers. When you shot down his offer, he dropped the topic. Not wanting to push you.

The two of you arrived at the bar close to 8pm. The show was set to start at 8:30, and he didn’t go on until 9. He met with the man producing the show that evening, and you stood by his side. You offered to hang back and let him do his thing, but he wanted you with him. Everywhere he went, you went. Behind the stage there were a few makeshift dressing rooms. That’s where you sat now. On the grungy couch as you watched him getting ready. 

He quietly sang to himself as he changed his clothes and fixed his hair. Every so often he would take a long drag from his vape. You could tell he was feeling nervous. You weren’t sure if it was because you were there, or if he always had pre-show jitters. Either way, you didn’t bring it up. You sipped the drink he’d paid for at the bar and admired him.

Something about seeing him in his element doing what he loved made your heart swell. You found yourself smiling as you watched him. He went through his setlist and warmed up his voice. His earpiece hung around his neck. Now he was pacing the room. “Thanos?” you called out, setting your glass down. “You’ll do great.” you offered the compliment, to which he responded with a smile. It didn’t seem to calm his nerves. “Do you always get so nervous?” you asked, standing up to walk over to him. Your hand rested upon his shoulder, stopping his pacing. 

“I don’t normally do shows sober.” he admitted, shrugging. Again he hit his vape, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. You appreciated that. Without having any alcohol or drugs cursing through his veins he realized how nerve racking being on stage would be. “It’s going to be great! Plus, I’ll be there. You can just watch me.” you offered, wrapping your arm around his shoulders like he did so often to you.

Thanos chuckled, bending just enough that he could lay his head on your shoulder. “Right up front?” he asked, fingers playing the sleeve of your jacket, which was actually one of his. “Front and center.” you assured him. The two of you stayed like that until the producer peeked his head in, letting him know he was on in five minutes.

You walked with Thanos to the backstage area, and handed him his microphone. He took one last look at you, and without hesitating you leaned in and kissed him. It was short and sweet, just a gentle peck. But it drove him wild. It gave him the push he needed to not be nervous anymore. Quickly you left to find a spot up front and you were surprised to see how crowded it was. You weren’t expecting that many people to be there. It made you nervous.

Somehow you managed to squeeze your way to the front. Your body was pressed tightly against the metal barricade they had. As the lights went out everyone began to scream. Your hands squeezed the rail, heart pounding when you saw his figure walk out onto the stage. His music had begun to play, dragging out everyone’s anticipation. 

In a moment it went silent. Then the lights came on and smoke poured out and you heard Thanos’ voice. His stage presence took over him and he radiated confidence now. His voice was sultry in your ears. You had never seen him perform before, and it was mesmerizing. The way he jumped around the stage, and spat out every word without missing a beat. You felt a sense of pride watching him do what he loved. 

The crowd was energetic and upbeat for his whole performance. Thanos’ didn’t look out into the crowd much but when he did his eyes always landed on you. You cheered for him along with everyone else, showing your full support. In that moment you forgot what happened between you two. As if it never even happened.

His set lasted for twenty minutes and when the lights shut off and Thanos ran backstage the crowd roared louder than ever for him. It was hard to get out of the sea of people all packed together like sardines. Eventually you found your way out and backstage. Thanos was laughing with a few of the crew. He was sweaty, face red. You snuck up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle.

He jumped but when he looked down and saw your painted nails on his stomach he relaxed. His hands rested on yours and you stayed in that position as he finished his conversation. Your face pressed tightly against his back. Then you felt him turn in your arms. “Hey mama,” his voice sounded a little scratchy. 

You blushed at the nickname, making you roll your eyes. “That was amazing, you are so good!” you exclaimed, never loosening your grip on him even when he turned around. You stood there hugging him for dear life. Not wanting the moment to pass. As if when you let go things would change. He would disappear.

Thanos tossed one of his friends his microphone. He pried you off of him which caused you to pout in protest. He chuckled, grasping your wrist and tugging you towards the dressing room. Once inside he slammed the door behind the two of you. With your back against the door and his body flush to yours you seemed to snap back to reality. You wanted to pull away. You begged for your body to move. But it didn’t. You couldn’t make yourself move. 

He stared down at you without saying a word. Neither of you moved, or spoke. Then without warning Thanos smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was greedy and filled with passion. He bit at your bottom lip and reached up to tangle a hand in the back of your hair. You let him use it to move you how he wanted you. Never breaking the kiss. His tongue explored yours. Your hands gripped his forearms to keep yourself standing. Legs feeling like they were going to give out. 

You went to pull away to try and catch your breath but Thanos wouldn’t let you. He was desperate. Needy. Touch starved. You didn’t mind. The two of you continued to kiss until he finally broke his lips away from yours. They felt swollen from the attack. Again he stared down at you but didn’t speak. So you did. “I need you,” your voice barely a whisper. That was all it took for Thanos to pick you up at the waist. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around him and he walked you back to the counter. You shivered when your exposed skin hit the cold surface. Thanos wasted no time in pushing your skirt up, and pulling your panties to the side. He managed to unbutton his jeans and barely got his cock pulled out before he was pushing it deep inside you.

The noise you made was guttural. You were loud, and you didn’t care. Thanos moaned your name over and over again; sounding like music to your ears. His pace was fast but sloppy, like he couldn’t keep up with his own desire. His cock reached deeper into you than it ever had before. Your gummy walls clenching around it. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up. He reached a long, slender finger down to your clit. That sent you over the edge. Your head hung back, eyes screwed shut as you screamed. “F-fuck look at you baby,” he groaned. “Look so beautiful coming all over my cock. Fuck.” his words came out as grunts, and they made everything feel more intense.

Shortly after Thanos felt himself about to cum. The feeling of your legs shaking around him, and your pussy so wet made his head spin. He pulled out only to soon release onto your stomach. A part of you felt disappointed, wanting to know how it felt to feel full of his seed. But you didn’t complain. In fact you couldn’t even form words at this point.

Once Thanos collected himself he fixed his pants and cleaned off your stomach. He even fixed your panties, helped you off the counter and tugged down your skirt. Still neither of you spoke. You downed a bottle of water while Thanos worked on gathering his stuff. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want the night to end.

You both stayed to watch the last two acts perform. Thanos clung to you, his back pressed against you and his arms wrapped snugly around you the whole time. A few people came up and asked him for pictures or an autograph, that was the only time he would break away from you. You tried to stay out of the way not wanting him to feel pressured to give you attention. Seeing him interact with fans made you smile. He was so polite, it made you think maybe that version of Thanos was real. Maybe what happened was a one time thing.

“Baby girl I’m gonna shower,” Thanos called out once back at his apartment. When you heard the curtain close behind him you cleared your throat. “Can I join?” you asked, voice innocent and shy. Thanos smirked to himself but kept his words clean. You undressed and stepped into the running water with him. Nothing happened in the shower. He stole a few kisses from you, even offered to wash your hair. But he never tried to make a move. 

The two of you dried off, and got dressed in more comfortable clothes. You flopped down on his bed and watched as he went to head into the living room. He had been sleeping on the couch. That first night back you insisted on letting him take the bed, and you would take the couch–but he refused. “Wait!” You called out before he could disappear. “Stay with me tonight?” you asked him, patting the spot next to you. A wide smile appeared on his face and he quickly jumped into bed with you.

You laid there with your head on his chest, holding onto one of his hands while the other played with your hair. “Thanos,” you started to say. He hummed in response. You stole a glance at him to see his eyes were closed. You knew he was exhausted. “Never mind.” you replied. Thanos squeezed your hand, “no tell me, I’m awake.” he sounded groggy. “Please?” That one word caused you to cave. “Can I stay with you? In Korea, I mean…” you  trailed off, feeling sick at the thought of him turning you down. 

He tensed underneath you. Thinking you messed things up you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “I was hoping you’d say that.” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Instantly you were flooded with relief. “I was thinking I’d have to get on my hands and knees and beg you!” that made you laugh. 

For the next hour you two discussed your plans. He offered to help you get a job, and you assured him that once you had one you would help pay bills. He, of course, turned down your offer. Thanos told you about all the places he wanted to show you. Soon the two of you grew more sleepy and before either of you knew it you were taken over by sleep.

In the following weeks Thanos kept true to his word. He helped you settle into his apartment. You told your friends a light version of what happened, leaving out most details. They weren’t happy. They worried about you. As far as your parents went you told them you moved for a job opportunity and left it at that. You didn’t have many belongings in London. Mostly just clothes and a few personal items, but you didn’t care enough to travel back to get them. Thanos replaced everything for you. Your clothes, toiletries, makeup. He even went out and bought you a stuffed animal that was similar to the one you kept sitting on your bed. It was a small gesture but to you it meant the world.

There were nights when things got rough. Thanos would go out with his friends, and get drunk or high and come back in a bad mood. It was never as bad as that one night, but it still frustrated you. The two of you had a lot of deep, serious conversations. It took a lot of convincing but he finally agreed to only go out if you were able to come along. You would keep an eye on him, keep him safe. You let him have his fun from a distance, and never hovered. But you were there to step in when faced with the opportunity to try something other than weed.

Thanos couldn’t get enough of your body. He didn’t care if people saw, and he was never shy about showing how much he loved you. Neither of you said those words, but it was obvious the feeling was mutual between the two of you. His rapping career began to grow and he found himself performing at larger venues. You were so proud of him.

He had just finished a show and you waited for him backstage. His sweaty body was on yours in a second. “Stop! You need a shower!” you exclaimed, teasingly pushing him away. Thanos stood tall, keeping you tight against his body. As he trailed kisses down your neck you let your eyes flutter close. “Baby girl, you love me when I’m sweaty. I know it turns you on, huh?” and slowly you nodded. You rolled your eyes, waving off his friends as you pulled him into a dressing room. Thanos was quick to undo his pants and you sank to your knees in front of him.

He smirked, loving to see you in that position. He made a makeshift ponytail for you out of his fist, and you swiftly took his length into your mouth. You had gotten used to how rough he could be, and now it was rare for you to gag. You stared up at him with your wide eyes loving how he got a rise out of it. As he fucked your mouth you moaned around him, using his thighs for leverage. It wasn’t long before Thanos spilled into your mouth, his cum dripping down your chin when you pulled away. 

“Mama, you are too good to me.” His voice was raw from the show. “Goddamn I fucking love you.” The words made you freeze. There was no way you heard him correctly. “What did you just say?” you exclaimed, staring up at him in shock. Thanos rubbed at the back of his neck. A blush burned onto his cheeks. You had never seen him blush before. There was no way Thanos was flustered. “I-well,” he began to ramble, trying to play it off. “No, tell me what you actually said, Thanos..” you crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up slightly. He stared down at your cleavage briefly then locked eyes with you. You raised your eyebrows as if telling him to continue. “Baby girl,” he groaned, “Nah, you know what? I said it, I fucking love you.” 

“That’s what I thought!” You attacked him into a hug, ruffling his hair. He held you hesitantly, waiting to see what you had to say. “I love you too, you big goof.” his lips attached to yours. A kiss that was none other you’ve shared together. It was gentle, loving, full of passion. Your hands tugged on his hair to deepen it. “Now if you really love me…” you whispered against his lips, then pulled away just enough to trace your thumb across them. “You’ll fuck me like a good boy.”

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 7

paige x azzi

a/n: I will not lie this is my favorite chapter I think so far... Will I say that about every new part? Probably. As always feedback is warmly welcome, like for real I love to read y'all reactions. Explicit sexual content, y'all liked it last time so here you go.

word count: 4.4k

"More Than Okay"

Saturday night in Los Angeles buzzed with its usual weekend energy—warm air, glowing sidewalks, and the electric hum of people heading somewhere exciting. But for Azzi, all of that blurred behind the fact that Paige had something planned. And Paige planned intentionally.

Paige wouldn’t tell her where they were going. Only gave her a time to be ready and said, “Dress like you just dropped 44 points on the Liberty and feel unstoppable about it.”

So Azzi did. Cropped silk button-down, black trousers that hugged her right, and just the right edge of confidence to match the kind of high she’d been riding since that game. But the truth? None of that compared to the way her heart beat every time she thought of Paige.

When she stepped out of her house and saw Paige waiting by the car, leaning against the driver’s side in a slate gray suit, no tie, crisp white shirt slightly unbuttoned—Azzi swore she blacked out for half a second.

“Okay,” Azzi said, walking down the steps, eyes raking over Paige’s outfit. “You’re trying to kill me tonight.”

Paige gave a slow once-over of her own, lips curving into that signature smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not before dinner.”

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked as Paige opened the car door for her.

“You’ll see,” Paige replied, smooth and coy. “Just trust me.”

Azzi slid in, heart pounding. “Dangerous words, Captain.”

“And yet,” Paige murmured, shutting the door gently behind her, “you keep trusting me.”

They drove through the city with the windows down and music low. Paige wouldn’t let the GPS give anything away, but the way she occasionally looked over at Azzi with that quiet smile? It said everything.

Eventually, they pulled up to a tucked-away rooftop restaurant in West Hollywood, candlelit tables and soft jazz floating through the air. The city skyline lit up in the distance, but none of it sparkled like the warmth in Paige’s eyes when she looked across the table at Azzi.

They ordered. Talked. Laughed. Celebrated the high of 44 points like it was a championship win. And just when the dessert came—chocolate soufflé, of course—Paige leaned forward, resting her arms on the table.

“There’s another reason I brought you here tonight.”

Azzi tilted her head, still smiling. “Because you can’t resist watching me eat chocolate?”

“That too,” Paige said with a soft laugh. Then she grew just a little quieter. “But mostly… because I wanted to ask you something.”

Azzi’s heart skipped. “Yeah?”

Paige’s eyes didn’t waver. “I want to make this official. I don’t care about time zones or travel or all the reasons it might be complicated. I just know that every day with you feels like something I want more of.”

Azzi blinked, caught between surprise and a full-heart meltdown. “Paige…”

“So.” Paige reached into her pocket and slid a small velvet box across the table.

Azzi’s eyes widened. “Is this—”

Paige chuckled. “It’s not a ring. Chill. Open it.”

Inside was a simple, elegant bracelet with a small silver charm in the shape of a golf ball and a basketball, intertwined.

“Custom made,” Paige said, cheeks just the faintest bit pink now. “To go with the question.”

Azzi’s eyes met hers, already misting.

“Be my girlfriend?”

Azzi’s smile was instant and unstoppable.

“Took you long enough,” she whispered, sliding the bracelet on. “Yes. A million times yes.”

—-

The road twisted upward, city lights fading behind them and replaced with winding trees and stars beginning to pierce the night sky. Azzi sat in the passenger seat, fingers lightly playing with the bracelet on her wrist, the silver charm catching glimmers of the streetlights as they climbed.

“You’re being quiet,” Paige said softly, glancing over.

Azzi smiled without looking up. “I’m trying to process how you just casually proposed a girlfriendship with a whole custom bracelet and candlelit dinner like it’s not the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Paige smirked. “I like the idea of raising the bar.”

They pulled into the empty lot of the Griffith Observatory, and Azzi sat up straighter. “Wait—this place is closed.”

Paige stepped out and jogged around to open her door. “It is. For everyone but us.”

Azzi blinked. “You… rented out the observatory?”

Paige shrugged with the casual confidence of someone who definitely knew what kind of effect she was having. “I told you. We’re celebrating properly.”

Azzi stepped out, breath catching as she took in the quiet. The observatory loomed above, timeless and grand, but the real magic was in the stillness. No tourists. No flashes. Just the moonlight, the stars, and the buzz of the city far below.

Paige took her hand, lacing their fingers together as she led her around the side of the building toward the iconic balcony that overlooked all of Los Angeles. The entire city stretched before them—twinkling, restless, alive.

Azzi stepped to the edge, speechless. Paige stepped in behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. The fit was perfect. Natural. Like this had been waiting for them all along.

Neither spoke for a moment.

Paige broke the silence, her voice low and calm in Azzi’s ear. “This view always made me feel like I was looking out at everything I was chasing. But tonight…”

Azzi turned her head slightly toward her, their cheeks nearly touching.

“…tonight I think I’ve already found what I want.”

Azzi’s chest rose and fell, words caught somewhere between her ribs and her heart. “Paige…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.

Because Paige turned her slightly, just enough for them to face one another. And in the hush of the moment, above the city that never slept, she kissed her. Slow. Sure. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions or make promises—it simply was. Real and quiet and full.

They stayed there like that—arms wrapped, the world below them, time slipping soft and easy around their shoulders.

Inside the observatory, the air was cool and still, humming faintly with the energy of all the stories the stars had ever told. The domed ceiling stretched high above them, and the massive telescope stood like a monument in the center of the room—sleek, polished, and humming faintly from being powered up just for them.

Azzi followed a few steps behind Paige, watching the way her eyes lit up as she approached the telescope. It was like watching someone walk into their childhood bedroom after years away—nostalgic, reverent, a little giddy.

“You’ve really got the keys to the galaxy tonight, huh?” Azzi teased, arms crossed playfully as she leaned against the railing.

Paige grinned, eyes already focused on the dials and adjustments. “Don’t tempt me, I’ll start giving you a full constellation tour.”

Azzi laughed. “Oh no, please do. I’m dying to see this side of you.”

Paige paused and glanced back, her expression softening. “This side?”

“The nerdy, starry-eyed, adorable side,” Azzi said, walking over to stand beside her. “You’re glowing. Literally and metaphorically.”

Paige ducked her head shyly but couldn’t hide the smile pulling at her lips. “I used to come here all the time when I first moved to LA. When golf felt too big. When the pressure started to swallow me up.”

She looked up toward the telescope, eyes shining with something deeper now.

“Something about the stars… the scale of it all. Galaxies, light-years, stuff that makes even the hardest losses feel small. It reminded me that no matter what I was going through, I was still just a speck. A speck with a dream, maybe. But still—small enough to survive the noise.”

Azzi’s breath caught. She didn’t know what she’d expected tonight to be, but it wasn’t this quiet beauty. This insight into the mind of a woman who held so much behind those steady eyes and poised demeanor.

Paige looked at her again, smiling just slightly. “I never really brought anyone here before. Didn’t think they’d get it.”

Azzi took her hand and squeezed it gently. “I get it. I really do.”

They took turns at the telescope—Paige showing her Jupiter’s moons, a distant cluster of stars she swore looked like a crooked heart, even Saturn’s rings, barely visible but magical all the same. And with every fact she rattled off, every excited gesture, every soft explanation whispered under the hum of the telescope’s gears—Azzi fell harder.

Here in this space, where the universe stretched endlessly above and around them, she wasn’t just falling for Paige the golfer. She was falling for Paige the stargazer, the soul who found comfort in the cosmos and strength in perspective.

And it made her feel like, somehow, they were meant to meet—two specks floating through space who just happened to find each other in all this infinite.

Azzi stepped back from the telescope, her face still bathed in awe and moonlight. She turned toward Paige with a half-laugh, half-sigh, her voice soft but teasing.

“Well,” she said, tilting her head, “now that you’ve literally shown me the stars and the moon… how on earth am I supposed to top this date?”

Paige smirked, stepping in close again, hands finding Azzi’s waist with a familiar ease. Her voice dropped into that low, honey-smooth tone that always made Azzi’s stomach flip.

“Oh, you don’t have to top it,” Paige said, eyes locked on hers. “You walk into a room and I feel like I’ve already won.”

Azzi blinked, her cheeks instantly warming. “That’s not fair,” she murmured, lips twitching.

Paige leaned in just close enough to brush her nose against Azzi’s. “Neither is you in that outfit. We all have our strengths.”

Azzi laughed quietly, letting her forehead rest against Paige’s, both of them suspended in that perfect pause. The stars above might’ve been vast and endless, but in that moment, Paige made Azzi feel like the entire universe had narrowed to just them.

—-

The drive back to Azzi’s was mostly quiet—that kind of quiet, thick with everything unspoken but felt in every glance, every graze of a hand on a thigh, every shared smile that lingered too long at a red light.

Paige’s hand rested on the gear shift, but her pinky found its way to Azzi’s knee, drawing soft circles that sent pulses of heat up her spine. Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The way she bit her lip and leaned just a little closer during the ride said enough.

By the time they stepped inside her place, the air had shifted completely. The lights stayed low. Shoes kicked off in the doorway. The door clicked shut behind them, and they didn’t speak—not yet.

Azzi led Paige to the couch, the plush throw still crumpled from their last movie night. They sat, barely inches apart, both of them unmoving for just a moment—until Azzi turned to her fully, her eyes burning soft and sure.

“You didn’t have to make tonight that special,” she whispered, her voice already laced with something deeper, something vulnerable. “But you did. And you do… every single time.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t tentative.

It was full of everything that had been brewing all night long—the awe, the gratitude, the aching want. It was hands in hair, bodies pulled closer in seconds. Paige responded like she’d been waiting for that exact moment, her fingers gripping Azzi’s waist, her mouth moving with hunger and heat.

Azzi whispered against her lips between kisses, breathless and real, “You amaze me. You drive me crazy. You keep doing things that make me fall harder.”

Paige kissed her again, deeper this time, their chests pressed together.

They moved in sync—Azzi pushing Paige gently back against the couch, their legs tangling, the air between them now molten.

The gratitude turned into heat.

The heat into hands exploring familiar curves with new intention.

And somewhere in the haze of kisses and whispered names, Paige cupped Azzi’s cheek and murmured, “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Azzi smiled against her lips. “Show me, then.”

And Paige did.

Their kisses deepened, breath mingling in that quiet rhythm only two people completely lost in each other could create. Azzi’s hand slid behind Paige’s neck, fingers threading into her hair as Paige trailed soft, hungry kisses along her jawline, down the sensitive spot beneath her ear that made Azzi’s breath hitch and her thighs tighten instinctively.

Without a word, Paige shifted, her arms slipping beneath Azzi’s thighs. In one smooth, practiced motion, she lifted her. Azzi gasped, caught off guard, arms locking around Paige’s shoulders as her legs wrapped around her waist, heat pressed to heat.

“Paige,” she murmured with a breathy grin, “you know you don’t always have to carry me.”

Paige’s voice was low, teasing. “I know. But I like having you in my arms.”

She walked them toward the bedroom, their mouths meeting again and again in desperate, lingering kisses. The room welcomed them like it knew what was coming—electric candles flickering low, moonlight spilling over rumpled sheets. Paige kissed Azzi deeply as she lowered her onto the bed, their bodies staying flush, her thigh pressing firmly between Azzi’s as they moved together in a slow, needful rhythm.

Hands roamed and slid beneath fabric, dragging it away inch by inch with reverence and restraint that made every second ache. Paige’s mouth followed—exploring, worshiping—the dip of Azzi’s collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the way her body arched into every touch like she’d been waiting for this, for her.

Azzi’s laugh turned into a gasp as Paige’s hand skimmed beneath her waistband, fingers brushing tender, slick heat. Her hips bucked, shameless and seeking, and Paige groaned against her skin, murmuring, “God, you’re already so ready for me.”

Clothes disappeared between kisses and quiet moans, strewn carelessly but beautifully across the floor. Paige moved lower, slower, letting her tongue and fingers draw sounds from Azzi she hadn’t even known she could make—soft whimpers, broken sighs, pleas that dissolved into praise. She took her time, savoring every reaction, every tremble, every whispered “please.”

Azzi’s body trembled with the aftershocks, breath hitching as Paige pressed one last kiss to her inner thigh. She laid there, flushed and panting, lips parted, hair a wild halo around her face. Paige moved back up her body slowly, like she had all the time in the world, settling against her, brushing damp strands from her brow.

“How’re you feeling?” Paige asked, her voice low and rough, but soft in the way it wrapped around Azzi like a blanket.

Azzi laughed, breathless. “Like I can’t feel my legs. You’re dangerous.”

Paige grinned, nudging her nose against Azzi’s. “You love it.”

Azzi’s fingers curled gently around Paige’s bicep. Her expression shifted—still soft, still turned-on—but something flickered underneath. A wanting that was different. Curious. Braver.

“I want to fuck you,” she said suddenly, voice quiet but steady.

Paige blinked, taken aback for only a second. Her brows lifted slightly, lips parting—but it wasn’t rejection in her eyes, just surprise, then warmth. “Az… I mean, we are—”

“No,” Azzi cut in gently, her cheeks darkening. She looked away for a second, then back. “I mean… I want to try to strap you.”

Paige’s breath caught. A slow warmth crept up her chest.

Azzi sat up a little, nervous now, fingers tightening in the sheets. “I’ve never done it. I’ve thought about it, yeah, but none of my exes ever made me feel… like I could. Like I was safe to even say it out loud, let alone try.”

Her voice cracked just slightly, and she added, almost sheepishly, “I’m kind of terrified I’ll mess it up.”

Paige’s expression softened completely. She leaned in, brushing a kiss to Azzi’s jaw, then her lips, slow and reassuring.

“Hey,” she murmured against her mouth. “You’re not going to mess anything up. And you’re not doing this alone. I’ll guide you, every step of the way.”

Azzi’s eyes searched hers—nervous still, but full of hope. Wanting. Paige smiled.

“You want to try?” Paige asked.

Azzi nodded, almost bashful, and whispered, “I really do.”

“Then let’s do it,” Paige said simply. “No pressure, no performance. Just us.”

Azzi slid off the bed, nude and glowing, and pulled open the drawer where she kept a few toys. She pulled out a harness and a dildo—sleek, not too intimidating—and handled them with a nervous grip.

“You okay putting it on?” Paige teased, voice light.

Azzi exhaled a laugh, turning the gear in her hands like she was holding a sacred artifact. “I mean… I’ve seen enough videos. I think I can manage.”

Watching Azzi buckle the straps over her thighs, focused and adorably flustered, stirred something deep in Paige. Not just arousal—though that throbbed steadily through her—but affection. Trust. Desire wrapped in something so much softer.

When Azzi finally looked up, strap secure, she hesitated. “What now?”

Paige laid back on the bed, legs open just enough to be inviting. She crooked a finger. “Come here and kiss me.”

Azzi crawled over her, and their mouths met—slower this time, full of anticipation and heat. Paige reached down between them and guided Azzi’s hand, helping her line up, skin brushing silicone, teasing them both.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Paige whispered, voice already husky. “Just feel me. Go slow. Let me tell you what I like.”

Azzi nodded, her voice almost reverent. “Okay.”

She eased forward, the tip brushing Paige’s entrance, and Paige sighed, hips tilting just so. Azzi’s eyes went wide—stunned by the intimacy, the weight of it all. Paige touched her face gently.

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

And Azzi began to move—slow, careful thrusts, watching Paige’s reactions, listening to every gasp and moan, adjusting with each breath.

“Az,” Paige murmured, voice thick with heat, “you don’t have to overthink it. You already feel so good right there.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her hand finding Paige’s thigh—thumb brushing along the soft inside, marveling at how open and inviting she was. “Just… tell me if I do something wrong.”

“There’s no wrong,” Paige whispered, “Just listen to me. Watch me. Feel me.”

Azzi slipped out and immediately got shy.

Paige reacted without skipping a beat, fingers wrapped lightly around the base of the toy, relining it up just right. Her hips lifted, and she let herself take in the tip with a slow, delicious grind, breath catching.

Azzi let out something between a groan and a gasp. “Holy shit…”

Paige grinned, eyes hooded. “Yeah, baby. Now give it to me slowly.”

Azzi followed her lead, pushing in an inch at a time. Her hips trembled slightly, unsure, but Paige’s moan was all the reassurance she needed.

“Mmm, that’s it,” Paige gasped, her fingers curling into the sheets. “Just like that… fuck, Azzi. You feel amazing.”

Encouraged, Azzi rolled her hips, sliding deeper into her, the harness pressing against her own clit with every motion. Her mouth dropped open at the friction, her body lighting up in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “I didn’t think it’d feel this good for me, too.”

Paige laughed, low and breathy. “Oh, it does. And watching you fuck me like this? That’s half the turn-on.”

Azzi’s hips found a rhythm—slow thrusts, steady pressure. Paige met each one with small, upward rolls of her own, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back, nails grazing gently.

“Little deeper,” Paige whispered, voice gone soft and wrecked. “Yeah… just like that.”

Azzi pushed in deeper, and Paige arched, a cry slipping from her lips. “Fuuuck, Az.”

“You like that?” Azzi asked, confidence finally catching up to the heat rushing through her.

Paige opened her eyes, dark and glassy. “You’re fucking me so good, baby.”

Their foreheads pressed together, sweat slicking their skin. Azzi’s movements picked up—still measured, but stronger now, more certain. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with their moans and gasps, the rhythmic creak of the bed.

Paige’s hands slid between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles that matched Azzi’s thrusts. Her whole body trembled, and she gasped, “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” Azzi breathed. “Come for me, Paige.”

And Paige did—loud, thighs clenching around Azzi’s hips, her voice breaking as pleasure crashed over her in waves. Azzi slowed but didn’t stop, holding her through it, hips rocking gently, reverently.

When Paige’s body finally stilled, she pulled Azzi down into a kiss—deep, messy, full of pride and love and heat still lingering on her lips.

Azzi broke away just long enough to murmur, “I did okay?”

Paige laughed against her mouth, wrapping her arms around her. “You wrecked me. That was more than okay.”

They collapsed into the sheets together, the toy forgotten somewhere between their legs, breath tangled and limbs intertwined.

Paige’s fingers lazily traced the curve of Azzi’s arm, and Azzi, still catching her breath, nuzzled into the crook of Paige’s neck.

Neither said a word for a long while.

They didn’t need to.

—-

The morning light streamed softly through the sheer curtains, casting a golden warmth across the bed where Paige stirred alone. She blinked once, twice, registering the gentle hum of life beyond the bedroom—faint sizzling, the rhythmic clatter of utensils.

She stretched, her muscles pleasantly sore, a lazy smile spreading across her lips as memories from the night before rushed in like a quiet tide. But it wasn’t until she reached out and felt the empty space beside her that she furrowed her brow, sitting up and glancing around.

“Where’d you go, curly?” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

Throwing on one of Azzi’s oversized hoodies from the edge of the bed, Paige padded down the hallway barefoot, the smell of something sweet—vanilla? cinnamon?—guiding her toward the kitchen.

And there she was.

Azzi, in all her post-sunrise glory, her curls a bit frizzy from sleep, wearing soft shorts and a tank top, fully locked into her chef mode. Batter splattered the counter, a spatula twirled effortlessly in her hand, and on the griddle sat several pancakes—perfectly golden, unmistakably shaped like hearts.

Paige leaned against the doorframe, her heart swelling.

As soon as Azzi heard her footsteps, she spun around, wide-eyed but smiling like she’d just been caught stealing Christmas.

Paige walked over slowly, arms sliding gently around Azzi’s waist from behind. She pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder before resting her chin there. “Why are you up so early, baby?”

Azzi blushed but didn’t stop flipping pancakes. “Because after everything you did for me last night, I wanted to do something small in return. Just… a little morning love for my girlfriend.”

The word still sounded brand new, delicious on her tongue. Girlfriend.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re really leaning into that title, huh?”

Azzi grinned over her shoulder. “Leaning? I already texted my mom, my group chat, and Ice. She threatened to throw us a party.”

Paige laughed, softly, lovingly, pressing her lips behind Azzi’s ear. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” Azzi said, turning in her arms, eyes softening as she looked into hers. “You are. And I just want to make sure you know—how happy I am. How real this feels.”

Paige leaned in, brushing her nose against Azzi’s. “I know. Trust me—I feel it too.”

They stood there for a beat, heart to heart, before Azzi smirked and added, “Now sit down before you distract me and these heart pancakes turn into abstract blobs.”

Paige laughed and kissed her again—sweet, slow, and grateful—before finally moving to sit at the counter, watching her girlfriend flip breakfast just for her.

—-

The rest of the morning unfolded like a scene from a slow, honey-dripped dream. They stayed in pajamas long past breakfast, lounging on the couch with legs tangled under a shared blanket. Sleepy kisses were exchanged between sips of coffee, and the air buzzed with the kind of comfort only found in new love that already feels like home.

Paige was curled into Azzi’s side, head resting on her shoulder as Azzi absentmindedly ran her fingers through Paige’s hair. The TV murmured in the background, some old movie neither of them were really watching. It was peace. Pure and simple.

By the time the clock blinked past noon, Paige shifted slightly, stretching just enough to glance up at Azzi with a sleepy smile.

“So,” she murmured, “what’s your schedule looking like this week? Games, travel?”

Azzi let out a breath, already mentally flipping through her calendar. “We’ve got a game in D.C. on Friday. It’s kind of like a hometown game for me—it’s the closest we get to Virgina. My whole family always comes out for it. Cousins, aunts, everyone.”

Paige perked up, brushing her fingers lightly over Azzi’s thigh. “Can I come?”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “Wait—for real?”

Paige sat up a little straighter, her expression soft but sure. “Yeah. I mean… if that’s okay with you. I’d really like to go.”

Azzi stared at her for a second, lips parted, eyes flickering with something between surprise and something deeper—tenderness, maybe even awe.

“You want to come to a game packed with my entire loud, nosy family?” she asked, a teasing smile breaking through.

Paige shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “I survived the Euro Cup and an opponent trying to rattle me by talking trash about you. I think I can handle a few rowdy cousins.”

Azzi laughed, the sound bright and warm. “Okay, but you’re asking for it. If you show up, you’re gonna be swarmed. My mom’s probably gonna cry. My aunt’s gonna interrogate you. And my little cousins are going to ask you a million questions about Tiger Woods.”

Paige leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth. “Sounds like my kind of chaos. Besides… I wouldn’t want to miss seeing you play where it matters most to you.”

Azzi’s heart squeezed in her chest. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Paige smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait until your aunt starts asking about our future kids’ names. Then we’ll see how brave I really am.”

Azzi giggled, but her eyes didn’t leave Paige’s. “I’d still want you there.”

And in that moment, they both knew—this wasn’t just something casual anymore. It was growing into something that mattered. Something that would last.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Eyes on you

A/N: Filth.. that's what this is. It started with a plot but after a while... it became smut

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader

Words: 8k

Warning(s): smut

Hockey wasn’t really my thing. I barely knew the rules. But when my two best friends begged me to come to a New Jersey Devils game — "because omg, Jack Hughes is so hot" — I didn’t have much of a choice.

I wore a plain black hoodie and jeans, feeling totally underdressed compared to my friends, who were decked out in jerseys and glittery face paint. They buzzed with excitement, pointing out players during warmups, while I leaned back in my seat, scrolling through my phone.

Until something — someone — caught my eye.

Down on the ice, a player in a red jersey with the number 13 skated lazily by the boards. His helmet was off, revealing messy brown hair and a boyish, insanely handsome face. He was talking to a teammate, laughing — but then he glanced up at the stands. Right at me.

I quickly looked away, heat rushing to my cheeks.

He’s probably just looking around, I told myself. Not at you.

But when I risked another glance, there he was again. Smirking. And then — a wink. Quick and casual, like it was nothing.

"Are you even paying attention?" one of my friends asked, nudging me.

"No," I said honestly, still staring.

Warmups ended, and the game started. I tried to focus on the puck, on the noise, the crowd, the action. But every time number 13 — Nico Hischier, I realized from the jumbotron — skated by our side of the rink, he glanced up at me. More than once. Sometimes he’d send a crooked smile. Other times, a quick wink. I even caught him adjusting his helmet with exaggerated slowness, like he was showing off.

My friends noticed eventually.

"Is Nico Hischier flirting with you?" one of them hissed, wide-eyed.

"I—I don’t know," I stammered, feeling like I was about to spontaneously combust.

The Devils ended up winning, and when the final buzzer sounded, the players flooded the ice to celebrate. Most waved at the crowd, tossing pucks and sticks to the fans. Nico skated right to the boards, directly beneath where I was sitting. He looked up, helmet tucked under his arm, and shot me a grin that could’ve melted ice.

Then, without hesitating, he pointed right at me — you — and tossed a puck up into the stands. It landed perfectly in my lap.

A note was taped to it.

"Meet me by the players' entrance? :) –Nico"

I blinked. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. My friends were screaming. I could barely breathe.

All I could think was, I don't even know how hockey works... but I think I just scored.

The entire walk to the players' entrance felt unreal. My heart was hammering against my ribs, my palms were sweating, and I couldn’t stop glancing down at the puck in my hands like it might disappear.

"This is insane," one of my friends said for probably the tenth time. "Go!" the other one nudged me forward, practically shoving me toward the small group of people waiting by the ropes.

Security guards stood nearby, only letting a few people through. Some had backstage passes, others looked like family. I hovered awkwardly at the side, unsure if I should even be here.

But then the door opened — and there he was.

Nico. Still in his gear, though his helmet and gloves were gone. His dark hair was damp, curling slightly at the edges, and there was a soft flush on his cheeks from the game. He scanned the small crowd once, and then his eyes landed on me. Instantly, a slow, devastating smile spread across his face.

Before I could even react, he jogged over.

"Hey," he said, his accent making the simple word sound ten times more attractive.

"Hi," I managed, my voice way too small.

He laughed softly, like he could see right through my nerves. "You got my puck?"

I held it up wordlessly, feeling like a complete idiot. He chuckled again, then reached out, his fingers brushing over mine as he took the puck for a second — just to turn it in his hand and show me the note still taped underneath.

"Good," he said, eyes sparkling. "I wasn’t sure you’d come."

"You... were actually looking at me?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just for me. "Yeah. I was hoping you’d notice."

Every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire.

For a moment, we just stood there, grinning at each other like idiots. Then he shifted the puck back into my hands, his fingers lingering a little longer this time.

"So..." he said, almost shyly, "Would you wanna maybe grab a coffee? Or... something less sweaty than this?" He gestured at his gear with a sheepish smile.

I laughed — real and breathless. "I'd like that."

His grin widened. "Good. Give me ten minutes? I’ll be right back."

And just like that, he was gone — jogging back inside, throwing a playful wink over his shoulder. I stood there clutching the puck to my chest, completely dazed, as my friends squealed behind me.

I had no idea what I'd just gotten myself into. But for once... I was really excited to find out.

I sat in the corner of a small café a few blocks from the arena, still clutching the puck Nico had given me like it was a good luck charm. My friends had peeled off — after way too much giggling and dramatic winking — leaving me alone to process the insane fact that Nico Hischier, actual NHL captain, had asked me out.

The bell above the door chimed, and my heart immediately kicked into overdrive.

He walked in, freshly showered and changed into a black hoodie and jeans, looking unfairly good. His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends, and even without the gear, he had that same confident, effortless energy that had me hooked from the second I saw him on the ice.

He spotted me instantly and grinned, walking over with that easy, athletic stride.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the seat across from me. His knee brushed mine under the table, and I forgot how to breathe for a second.

"Hi," I managed, smiling way too big.

Up close, he was even more ridiculous. His skin still had that post-shower glow, and I couldn't stop thinking about how he looked earlier — messy hair, sweaty, flushed from the game, laughing and winking at me like he knew exactly what he was doing.

I shifted in my seat, feeling my face heat up.

"You warm?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Maybe a little," I mumbled, hoping he couldn’t read my mind.

He laughed — low and smooth — and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs so they nudged mine again, deliberately this time.

"So," he said, tapping his fingers against the table, "You a big hockey fan, or...?"

"Not really," I admitted, smiling sheepishly. "My friends dragged me. They're obsessed with your teammates."

He smirked. "And you? Did you find someone to obsess over?"

I knew he was flirting. I knew it. And still, my stomach flipped like I was free-falling.

I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Maybe."

That earned me another one of those lazy, devastating smiles. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice in that way that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

"Good," he said. "Because I was hoping it would be me."

The tension between us tightened, the air practically buzzing. I couldn't stop thinking about it — the way he looked dripping in sweat, the way he moved on the ice, powerful and controlled, like he could do anything he wanted. Including completely wreck my entire sense of sanity with just a look.

He watched me, his gaze heavy, and I knew he could tell. He knew.

"So," I said, trying to be brave, my voice a little breathier than I meant, "Is this where you tell me you're as good off the ice as you are on it?"

The look he gave me in that moment — slow, heated, dangerous in the best possible way — sent a shiver straight down my spine.

"Why don't you find out?" he said, so casually it made my stomach twist.

I bit my lip, leaning back just enough to make him chase a little.

"Maybe I will," I teased.

He laughed under his breath, eyes glinting. "Careful," he said. "I play to win."

I stirred my coffee just to have something to do with my hands, because if I kept staring at him — at the muscles under that hoodie, at the way he looked like he could ruin me with just one kiss — I was going to do something very, very reckless.

The coffee cups sat forgotten between us, long empty. Neither of us made a move to leave — it was like we were both waiting for the other to say it first.

Finally, Nico leaned in, his voice low and smooth. "Come on. Let me walk you back." Not a question. A promise.

I nodded, heart hammering. Outside, the air was crisp, the night alive with city lights and the fading buzz of the game. He tucked his hands into his hoodie pockets as we walked, close enough that our arms brushed with every step, a casual kind of intimacy that made my skin hum.

We didn’t say much. We didn’t have to. Every glance, every small smile was electric.

My mind kept betraying me — flashing back to the rink, to the way he looked drenched in sweat, messy and flushed and a little cocky. I wondered how he’d look even more wrecked. What his hands would feel like on my hips. What it would feel like to tug that hoodie over his head and—

"You keep looking at me like that," Nico murmured, his voice curling around my nerves, "and I'm gonna do something about it."

I sucked in a breath, the world around us narrowing to just him. His accent, that lazy, confident swagger, the heat in his eyes like he was already imagining it too.

I stopped walking. He did too, turning to face me, barely a foot away. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, smell the faint trace of soap and something darker, something him underneath it.

"You should," I whispered before I could lose my nerve.

For a second, he just looked at me — like he was memorizing the moment, every inch of it. And then he closed the distance in two slow, deliberate steps.

His hand brushed my jaw, tilting my face up to him, his touch firm but careful, like he was giving me one last chance to pull away.

I didn’t. God, I didn’t even think about it.

Nico kissed me like he played hockey — intense, powerful, absolutely all-consuming. His mouth was hot against mine, demanding in a way that made my knees buckle slightly. I clutched at the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and he growled low in his throat, deep and rough and perfect.

His other hand slid to my waist, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp against his lips. He took advantage immediately, deepening the kiss, slow and dirty and breathtaking.

It was the kind of kiss that didn’t just set your skin on fire — it burned straight through your bones.

When we finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard. His thumb traced lazy circles over my hipbone, possessive and tender all at once.

"I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you," he muttered, voice rough with want.

I laughed, breathless. "You winked at me like five minutes after seeing me."

He grinned — that crooked, devastating smile — and pressed another quick, teasing kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Exactly."

I leaned into him, feeling dizzy, drunk on the way he felt, the way he wanted me so blatantly. I didn't know where this was going — didn't know if this was crazy, reckless, or the start of something real.

He kept his hand at my waist as we walked the last few blocks, his thumb brushing lazy, teasing circles against my side like he couldn’t not touch me. Every few steps, he’d glance down at me with this look — dark, smirking, like he was just barely holding back.

I was not doing much better.

Every time our bodies brushed, every time his hand tightened, every time I remembered the way his mouth felt on mine, a fresh wave of heat rolled through me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how solid he was under that hoodie, how he moved with this quiet, confident strength — and how easy it would be to lean into him again, to let him wreck me in the best way.

We stopped outside my building.

I turned to him, heart hammering so loud it drowned out everything else. The streetlights painted golden highlights over his hair, his skin, and when he looked at me — eyes heavy-lidded, mouth slightly parted like he was thinking about kissing me again — I nearly forgot how to stand.

"I should..." I said, trailing off, but not moving toward the door.

"You should," he agreed, stepping closer.

Neither of us moved.

The space between us crackled, stretched so thin it could snap.

His hand slid from my waist up to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him with one smooth, unhurried motion. My hands landed against his chest instinctively — and holy hell, he felt even better than I imagined. Solid. Warm. His heartbeat thudding under my palms.

"You coming up?" I heard myself ask, voice way too breathy, way too hopeful.

He gave me a look that made my stomach twist — dark, hungry, a silent I was hoping you'd ask.

"Only if you want me to," he said, his mouth ghosting along the shell of my ear.

I shivered.

"I want to," I whispered.

That was all it took.

Nico’s hand slid down to my hip, fingers curling tight, and he kissed me again — harder this time, less careful, like he was done pretending we were just flirting.

I barely remembered fumbling with my keys, dragging him through the door, up the stairs. All I knew was the way his hands roamed like he was already memorizing me — the way he pushed me gently against the wall of the hallway, kissing me slow and deep until I was gasping into his mouth, clinging to the front of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping me standing.

When we finally stumbled into my apartment, he barely gave me a second to kick the door shut before he was on me again.

His hoodie bunched under my fingers as I pulled him closer, desperate to feel him, to get under his skin the way he was already under mine. He nipped at my bottom lip, soothed the sting with a kiss that left me dizzy, drugged on him.

"God," he muttered against my mouth, "you're gonna drive me crazy."

"You started it," I shot back, dragging my nails lightly along the nape of his neck.

He growled low in his throat — actually growled — and in one swift motion, he lifted me by the hips, setting me down on the kitchen counter like I weighed nothing. I let out a breathless laugh, threading my fingers through his hair as he bracketed my body with his own.

"I’m not planning on stopping," he said, voice rough, dangerous, thrilling. Neither was I.

The second Nico set me down on the counter, he was on me again — kissing me like he couldn't stand the space between us.

It wasn’t neat or careful anymore. It was messy. Hungry. Real.

His hands roamed without hesitation, sliding up under my shirt, calloused fingertips dragging along my bare skin and leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched. I gasped into his mouth, arching into him instinctively, needing more, more, like breathing wasn’t enough anymore unless it was through him.

"You're dangerous," I whispered against his lips, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

He grinned — wild and breathless — and tugged the hoodie over his head, tossing it to the floor without breaking the kiss. And god — seeing him like that, in just a fitted black t-shirt stretched across his chest and arms — it knocked the air clean out of my lungs.

I ran my hands over his torso, feeling the solid muscle under my palms. The way his stomach tensed when I touched him made something primal spark deep in my gut.

He dipped his head to my neck, dragging his mouth along my skin — slow, almost lazy — before sucking just under my jaw hard enough to make me whimper. It was possessive, a little rough, and it lit every nerve ending on fire.

"You smell so good," he muttered against my throat, voice dark and low and wrecked.

I tilted my head back, giving him more access without even thinking, threading my fingers into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan — low and filthy and completely, utterly undone.

His hands slid under my thighs, dragging me closer to the edge of the counter. Our hips collided, and when I felt how hard he was already — when he let out a ragged breath against my skin — my whole body flushed, hot and desperate.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he said roughly, hands tightening on me like he could anchor himself that way.

"Show me," I whispered.

It was all he needed.

He kissed me again, fiercer this time, stealing the air from my lungs. His hands slid up under my shirt again — this time dragging it slowly, deliberately over my head and tossing it aside — leaving me bare to him in nothing but my jeans and bra.

He pulled back just enough to look at me — really look at me — and the way his eyes darkened made my pulse thunder in my ears.

"Beautiful," he said simply, like it wasn’t even a question.

He kissed down my neck, across my collarbone, taking his time, making sure I felt every brush of his mouth, every scrape of his teeth. One hand splayed across my back, holding me steady, while the other skimmed along the waistband of my jeans — teasing, playing — making my breath hitch with every second he dragged it out.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt in retaliation, earning a low chuckle against my skin.

"Impatient?" he teased, voice low and gravelly.

"You're one to talk," I shot back, tugging harder.

He pulled back just enough to strip his shirt off in one smooth motion, revealing a body that looked like it had been carved by the gods — broad shoulders, cut abs, every line of him screaming strength and control and something just a little dangerous. And all of it was mine. Tonight, at least.

Nico leaned in, his forehead resting against mine, his thumb tracing lazy, reverent circles along the exposed skin of my waist.

"We can slow down," he murmured, his voice a little rough, a little strained. "If you want."

I looked at him — really looked at him — and something in my chest twisted painfully sweet. Because underneath all the heat, all the hunger, he was still giving me a way out. Still asking for permission. Still choosing to be soft when he could so easily be reckless.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him back down to me.

"I don't want slow," I whispered against his mouth. "I want you."

He groaned like I'd broken something inside him — and when he kissed me again, it was with the full weight of that desperation, that hunger he'd been holding back. Neither of us had any intention of stopping.

The second the words left my mouth — "I want you" — something shifted between us.

It was like a dam breaking. All the heat, all the tension that had been simmering exploded into something raw and unstoppable.

Nico kissed me hard, hands roaming everywhere at once, desperate and greedy like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers dug into my thighs, pulling me closer until I could feel every hard line of him pressing against me, making my whole body throb with need.

My hands slid over his bare chest, his muscles flexing under my palms. God, he was solid everywhere, built from years of pushing himself to the limit — and now he was here, unravelling at my touch.

"You're killing me," he muttered against my skin as he kissed his way down my neck, his voice rough and broken.

"Good," I gasped, tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

He growled low in his throat — and fuck, the sound went straight to the pit of my stomach — before grabbing my hand and guiding it lower, letting me feel exactly what I was doing to him.

I bit my lip hard enough to hurt.

Nico pulled back just enough to yank my jeans down my legs, tossing them aside with a dark, determined look that made my heart nearly stop. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from my fingers — and he looked at me like he wanted to ruin me.

"Look at you," he rasped, letting his gaze drag over every inch of exposed skin. "So fucking perfect."

I reached for him again, and he caught my wrists, pinning them lightly to the counter behind me. Not rough. Not harsh. Just enough to make me squirm, to make me ache with how badly I needed him.

"You gonna let me take my time?" he murmured, leaning in, his mouth hovering over mine.

I nodded breathlessly — or maybe whimpered — not even sure anymore.

"Good girl," he whispered, and Jesus, the way the words rolled off his tongue made my whole body tense with anticipation.

He trailed kisses down my throat, over the tops of my breasts, leaving a slow, hot path until I was gasping, arching into him. His hands finally released my wrists, sliding down my sides, thumbs tracing maddening circles against my hips.

And when he finally peeled away the last scraps of clothing between us, Nico didn't rush. He took his time, hands and mouth worshipping every inch of me, making sure I felt just how badly he wanted me.

By the time he finally pushed inside me, I was already trembling — mindless with need, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me anchored to the world.

He moved slow at first, deep and deliberate, making sure I felt every stretch, every pulse of him against me.

"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned into my neck, his breath hot and ragged.

I could barely breathe, barely think. All I could do was feel — the drag of his hands over my skin, the overwhelming heat of his body against mine, the way he filled me perfectly, like he was made for this, made for me.

Nico kissed me fiercely, like he needed to claim every inch of me, like he needed me to know that tonight, I was his — and he was absolutely mine.

We lost ourselves in each other, the rhythm building higher and higher, rougher, needier, until I was right on the edge, clinging to him helplessly.

"Come for me," he rasped against my lips, voice pure sin. And when I did — when the pleasure crashed over me so hard it made me cry out his name — he followed with a low, broken groan, holding me so tight against him like he never wanted to let me go.

We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, hearts pounding out of control. And when he finally pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, he smiled — soft, real, and completely wrecked in the most beautiful way.

"You're trouble," he said, brushing his nose against mine.

I laughed, dizzy and drunk on him. "You started it."

He kissed me again — slow, sweet, addictive — and for the first time all night, I wasn’t thinking about anything else.

After, we just stayed there for a while — tangled up, breathing hard, clinging to each other like the world outside didn’t exist.

Nico shifted first, brushing my hair back from my face with the lightest touch, like he was scared he might break me now. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along my skin, calming the frantic beat of my heart.

"You okay?" he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion but still full of that low, tender heat.

I nodded, too blissed out to form actual words. Instead, I leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, feeling the stubble scrape against my lips, feeling him hum low in his chest in response.

He scooped me up effortlessly — like it was nothing, like he needed to keep me close — and carried me to the bed without even asking. Dropped me onto the mattress with a little bounce and a grin that made my whole body warm again.

I laughed, pulling him down with me.

He settled over me, heavy and real, his body a comforting weight. He tucked his face into the crook of my neck, breathing me in like he never wanted to forget this.

"Don’t wanna leave," he mumbled against my skin, voice thick and slurred with sleep.

"You don't have to," I whispered, threading my fingers through his messy hair.

He sighed — this deep, content sound — and tightened his arm around my waist, dragging me closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space between us.

For a while, we just laid there in the dark. His heartbeat steady against my side. His hand tracing slow, idle shapes over my hip. His breath fanning warm over my collarbone.

It should've felt overwhelming — all this sudden closeness, all this heat that hadn’t burned out yet — but it didn’t. It felt right.

Nico shifted again, lifting his head just enough to look down at me. His hair was tousled, falling over his forehead, and his eyes were soft, almost sleepy — but still burning with something fierce underneath it all.

"Can I see you again?" he asked, his thumb brushing my cheekbone.

I smiled, feeling my heart flip over in my chest. "You better."

He laughed — this low, rumbling sound that made me want to kiss him all over again — and leaned in, pressing the sweetest kiss to the corner of my mouth.

"You’re dangerous," he whispered against my skin. "More dangerous than you know."

I smiled against his lips. "Good," I murmured. "You deserve a little danger."

He kissed me again — slow and deep, like he was memorizing the way I tasted, the way I breathed, the way I felt against him.

And somewhere in the haze of kisses and soft laughter and whispered promises, we drifted off — tangled up in each other, hearts beating the same rhythm.

The last thing I felt before sleep claimed me was the slow, careful way Nico pulled the blanket up around us — like he could shield me from everything bad in the world — and the warm, lazy press of his mouth against my shoulder as he breathed against my skin:

"I’m not letting you go."

The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth.

Solid heat pressed against my back, a heavy arm draped over my waist, fingers curled lazily against my stomach like he hadn’t moved all night. I blinked against the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, feeling a smile tug at my lips before I even opened my eyes.

Nico.

Still here. Still tangled up with me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I shifted slightly, and he stirred — nuzzling his face deeper into the curve of my neck, muttering something low and half-asleep in Swiss German that I didn’t understand but made my chest ache anyway.

God, he was lethal like this. Barely awake, hair a complete mess, voice rough and deep and wrecked.

I turned just enough to see him — sheets kicked low on his hips, bare chest rising and falling with every slow breath — and nearly forgot how to breathe altogether.

Before I could even think about moving, his hand tightened around me.

"Where you goin'?" he rasped, voice thick with sleep, a little accusatory.

"I wasn’t," I said softly, tracing a light line down his arm. "Just... looking."

At him.

At this.

At the stupid, unfair fact that he looked even hotter like this — relaxed and rumpled and somehow even more dangerous than he was on the ice.

He cracked one eye open and gave me a slow, lazy smirk that made my whole body flush all over again.

"You like what you see?" he teased, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Maybe," I said, pretending to shrug. "You’re okay, I guess."

He laughed — that low, rumbling sound that went straight to my thighs — and in one smooth motion, rolled me onto my back, hovering over me.

"You’re a terrible liar," he murmured, leaning down to kiss me — slow and deep — like he was already thinking about round two. And honestly? So was I.

His hand slid up my thigh under the sheets, lazy but deliberate, making my breath catch in my throat.

"Thought we were getting breakfast," I said, though my voice was already shaky.

"We are," he said, dragging his mouth along my jaw, down my neck. "Eventually."

"Nico—"

"You," he said, pressing a kiss just above the swell of my breast, "are my breakfast."

I let out a breathless laugh — and then gasped when he bit down lightly, just enough to make me arch into him.

Any thought of pancakes or coffee or literally anything else disappeared instantly.

He kissed his way lower, slower, taking his time like he had all the hours in the world — and honestly, if he kept touching me like that, I wasn’t about to argue.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against my skin.

"You’re trouble," he muttered, voice dark and full of heat.

"You love it," I whispered, pulling him up to kiss me again.

And he did. I could feel it in the way his hands worshipped my body, in the way he kissed me like he was starving for me, in the way he held me like he never wanted to let me go.

And as the morning sun poured over us, painting everything gold and soft and new — I realized something.

I was absolutely, completely in trouble.

And for once in my life I didn’t mind at all.

It was supposed to be simple. Just dinner — casual, normal, easy.

But nothing about being with Nico was ever easy.

He picked me up looking like he just stepped out of a goddamn magazine. Black jacket, fitted white tee, jeans that clung to him in all the right places — and that smile. That smile that made my knees go a little weak the second he laid eyes on me.

"You’re lucky I showed up," I teased, slipping into the passenger seat.

He reached over immediately, hand landing on my thigh like it belonged there. And when he squeezed — casual but very intentional — I barely swallowed a sound.

"You weren't getting away that easy," he said, voice low.

The drive to the restaurant was a blur — mostly because his hand never left my thigh. Sometimes sliding a little higher, sometimes just resting there, always warm, always possessive. Every casual brush sent a jolt straight through me, until by the time we parked, I was already dangerously close to crawling into his lap.

And he knew it.

He grinned as he killed the engine, leaning in so close I could feel his breath against my ear.

"Patience," he whispered, voice like gravel and honey.

"You're evil," I whispered back, heart hammering in my chest.

"You're the one who wore that dress," he said, eyes flicking down my body like he wanted to eat me alive right there in the damn parking lot.

Dinner was a joke.

Neither of us could concentrate.

Nico sat across from me at the tiny corner table, but he might as well have been on top of me. His foot brushed against mine constantly under the table — not by accident. His knee pressed against mine. His fingers found any excuse to graze my hand, my wrist, my thigh.

Every time I looked up, I caught him watching me — dark-eyed and starving, like he was counting down the minutes until he could get me alone.

"You're not even trying to hide it," I said at one point, laughing into my wine glass.

"Why would I?" he said shamelessly, leaning closer, his voice dropping. "Everyone here should know you're mine."

My face heated instantly, but the way he said it — low and rough and so sure — sent a full-body shiver down my spine.

Somehow, somehow, we made it through dinner.

But the second we were outside, Nico had me pinned against the car, mouth crashing onto mine like he hadn't tasted me in weeks.

The kiss was brutal — hot and claiming and so, so good. His hands slid down to my hips, yanking me closer, grinding his body into mine like he didn’t even care we were in a public parking lot.

"You’re killing me," he muttered against my lips, breathing hard.

"Good," I whispered, smiling against his mouth.

He kissed me again — deeper, slower this time — like he was trying to brand himself into me.

And when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving, he whispered it so quietly I almost missed it:

"I’m already yours."

The second Nico got the door open, he was on me.

He slammed it shut with one hand, the other already dragging me back against him, his mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. No hesitation. No patience. Just raw, messy, desperate need.

I barely had time to gasp before he backed me into the wall, pinning me there with his whole body, grinding into me like he wanted to fuse us together.

"Fucking finally," he growled against my mouth, hands everywhere at once — sliding up my thighs, under my dress, tugging the straps down with reckless urgency.

"You’re so fucking hot," he muttered, kissing down my throat, biting gently at my collarbone. "Been thinking about you all night. All fucking day."

I moaned, head tipping back to give him more access as he yanked the dress down to my waist, baring me to him completely. He groaned when he saw I hadn’t worn a bra — deep, guttural, almost pained — and before I could blink, his mouth was everywhere.

Sucking, licking, biting — like he couldn't decide what he wanted more. His hands squeezed my ass, lifting me easily, and I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, gasping when I felt how hard he was through his jeans.

He carried me like that, lips never leaving my skin, all the way to the bedroom — threw me down onto the bed and stood there for a second, just looking at me.

His chest was heaving. His eyes were dark.

"Strip," he said, voice hoarse and rough in a way that made my stomach drop.

I peeled the dress off the rest of the way, baring everything to him, feeling the heat of his gaze like a physical touch.

Nico swore under his breath, yanked his shirt over his head, and stripped out of his jeans so fast it was almost comical — almost — except for the fact that fuck, he was stupidly, unfairly gorgeous.

Toned. Golden. Every muscle tense and ready and so fucking hungry for me.

He knelt on the bed between my legs, running his hands up my thighs so slowly it made me whimper.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, before dipping his head — and then his mouth was there, hot and devastating and relentless.

I cried out, hands flying to his hair, tugging helplessly as he licked and sucked and drove me absolutely insane. He worked me with maddening precision, not letting up until my legs were trembling and I was gasping his name over and over again like a prayer.

When I finally shattered, Nico didn’t give me a second to recover.

He crawled up my body, mouth crashing onto mine again, and I tasted myself on his lips. It was filthy. It was perfect.

"You’re mine," he said again, rough and breathless, as he lined himself up against me.

And when he finally pushed inside — slow, deliberate, deep — I couldn’t hold back the loud, broken moan that ripped from my throat.

He moved slow at first — hips grinding deep, making sure I felt every inch, every deliberate drag of him stretching me open.

"You feel so good," he growled into my ear. "So fucking tight. So perfect."

I was already spiraling again, clinging to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, trying to pull him even closer.

"Faster," I gasped. "Nico—please—" That broke him.

He snapped his hips harder, rougher, fucking into me with a brutal rhythm that had the headboard slamming against the wall and filthy, desperate sounds filling the room.

My body was on fire — every nerve ending lit up, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of him — his hands, his mouth, his filthy praise spilling into my ear like gasoline on the flames.

"Taking me so good," he rasped. "So fucking perfect for me. Mine—mine—"

It wasn’t long before I was falling again, harder than before, my whole body convulsing around him.

Nico groaned deep in his chest — the most broken, beautiful sound — and with a few more desperate thrusts, he followed, spilling into me with a rough, gasping curse.

He collapsed on top of me, chest heaving, forehead pressed into the curve of my neck.

For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing, our racing hearts.

Then, finally, he lifted his head — messy hair, flushed cheeks, swollen lips — and looked down at me like I was something sacred.

"You’re not leaving," he said, voice still wrecked.

It wasn’t a question. It was a promise.

I smiled, threading my fingers into his sweaty hair, tugging him down into a slow, lazy kiss.

"Wasn’t planning on it," I whispered against his mouth.

And from the way he kissed me after that — slow, deep, endless — I knew we were just getting started.

I barely had the strength to move — but apparently, Nico had other plans.

Still breathless, still pressed against me like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space, he kissed a slow, lazy path along my jaw and murmured against my skin:

"Come shower with me."

I hummed, pretending to think about it. "I don't know," I teased, voice wrecked. "I might need a stretcher."

He laughed — low and rough and stupidly hot — and before I could protest, he scooped me up bridal-style like I weighed nothing.

"You can rest after," he said, voice dark with promise. "Not done with you yet."

Oh, fuck.

I clung to him, heart pounding again, feeling the heat in his body like a second skin.

The bathroom filled with steam almost immediately — the water hot, the air thick — but Nico didn't even set me down right away.

He pressed me back against the cold tile, his body a furnace against mine, kissing me slow and filthy like we had all the time in the world.

His hands slid over my slick skin — everywhere — fingers tracing every curve, relearning me like he couldn't believe I was real.

"You’re so fucking pretty," he murmured against my mouth, hands squeezing my ass, grinding his hips into me shamelessly.

"Thought you said you wanted to shower," I teased breathlessly, raking my nails down his back just to hear him growl.

"Changing plans," he muttered, and then he dropped to his knees — in the shower, water pouring over him — and buried his face between my thighs like a man starved.

I cried out, grabbing onto his messy hair, anchoring myself as his tongue worked me over — relentless, filthy, worshipping.

The water ran down my body, mixing with the slick slide of his mouth, his fingers digging into my hips to hold me still.

I was already oversensitive, already wrecked from before, but he didn’t seem to care. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

When I came — hard, shaking, sobbing his name into the echoing steam — he didn’t let up. Not even a little.

He licked me through it, slow and devastating, until I was slumping against the wall, barely able to stand. Finally, he rose to his feet, mouth glistening, eyes dark and blown wide with hunger.

"You’re gonna kill me," I whispered, laughing weakly.

He just grinned, that dangerous, heart-melting smile, and lifted me again — caging me against the wall, his cock sliding against my thigh, hot and so fucking ready.

"Not until I’ve had my fill," he growled, voice rough, wrecked.

And then he was inside me again — fast, deep, brutal — slamming into me with wet, filthy sounds that echoed off the tile walls, his fingers digging bruises into my hips.

The water washed over us, but it didn’t cool the heat even a little. It only made it messier… hotter… more out of control.

He fucked me like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough, panting my name like a prayer, like a curse.

"Mine," he gritted against my mouth, pounding into me so hard the shelves shook. "You’re fucking mine."

"Yours," I gasped, clinging to him, giving him everything.

And when we came — together, wild and shattering and almost too much — it was everything.

When the world finally stopped spinning, Nico kissed my forehead — soft, reverent — still buried deep inside me. Still holding me like he would never let go. Still whispering my name like it was the only thing he ever wanted to say. And honestly? He didn’t even have to. Because my body already knew, I was his.

Completely. Hopelessly. Forever.

[enwoso]

joys of parenthood | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request:)

grumpy masterlist

leah had the whole day planned. she had for weeks.

since alessia asked for her to watch you for the day — alessia doing a shoot with ella and it just being a whole lot easy for you to spend the day with leah than it was to keep you entertained while you not getting in trouble on a photo shoot.

as well as it wasn't often leah got one-on-one time with you, and so she was looking forward to your little adventure. just you and her. a proper mama and you day.

it was a picture perfect plan, for a perfect day. a trip to the zoo, stop for ice cream, maybe a little playground time to waste anymore energy and some time to play a little game of football on the grass before heading home for a cozy night and dinner. the perfect day.

—

it started off well. you both had made it to the zoo, and you were thrilled, skipping beside leah as you pointed out all the animals in awe. you'd even been on your best behavior when leah bought you an ice cream.

it is easy, leah had thought smugly — to naively. watching you happily lick at the ice cream cone as you babbled about all the different animals you had seen.

but all too quickly it then all fell apart.

the elephant enclosure was the scene of the crime. you had decided you needed to feed them. not wanted—needed. but when leah gently explained to you that they couldn't because the zoo had strict rules, your little face crumpled.

and then, chaos.

one second, you were sadly pouting. the next, you were screaming. full-on, earth-shattering wails. tears streaming down your tiny face. people staring.

leah had been through some high-pressure situations in her life and she would like to pride herself on being able to stay calm during these moments like a euro final, captaining her team, press conferences that felt like walking into a battlefield.

but nothing, nothing, could've prepared her for a five-year-old throwing herself onto the pavement and sobbing like the world was ending because she couldn't feed an elephant.

"angel, baby, i know you're upset, but we can't—"

"NOOOO!"

"alright, alright." leah ran a hand down her face, feeling the eyes of every parent around her. some were sympathetic, others were definitely judging.

okay. think, leah, think.

she crouched beside you, lowering her voice. "i know you're upset and feeling a little sad, but this isn't how we—"

"I WANNA FEED THE ELEPHANTS!"

leah exhaled. defeat. absolute defeat. where was alessia when you needed her.

after several long minutes, during which she exhausted every tactic she could think of, leah admitted defeat. the zoo trip was officially over.

she scooped up you as you were still sniffling, carrying you back to the car, their day suddenly cut very, very short.

—

by the time they got home, leah was done.

gone was the well-planned day of fun. instead, she settled you down for a quieter evening—movies, a simple dinner because at this point, leah couldn't handle another battle, and eventually, bedtime.

which, of course, was its own challenge. "mama," you called out sleepily after leah had already tucked you in. "can you tell me a story?"

leah sighed but smiled, brushing a few curls from your face. "only if you promise to actually go to sleep after."

you grinned. "okay." it took three stories, two extra sips of water, and leah humming a lullaby she barely knew before you finally, finally fell asleep as leah kissed the top of your head mumbling an 'i love you and mummy loves you' before leaving the room making sure your night light was left on.

reaching the bottom of the stairs, leah feet dragged there way into the living room as she slumped onto the couch, closing her eyes.

and that's exactly where alessia and ella found her when they walked in later that night.

—

"how was your day?" alessia asked, dropping onto the couch beside leah , kicking her feet up. ella plopped down on the other side, looking equally curious.

leah opened one eye. "where do i start?"

ella laughed. "that bad?"

leah pushed a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "she had a meltdown. full-on, world-ending, screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs meltdown. in public, at the zoo."

alessia's lips twitched. "oh yeah?"

"yeah," leah deadpanned. "because i wouldn't let her feed the elephant even though technically there was no way you could of anyway"

at that, alessia snorted and ella outright cackled. leah narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend. "you could've warned me."

alessia smirked. "oh, babe. welcome to toddlerhood." she patted leah's knee, grinning. "you've got it all to look forward too, the tantrums in the middle of the supermarket cause you won't let her look at the toy section, the not touching her food even though she's just asked for that exact meal. consider this your pre-warning for the teenage years."

leah groaned, letting her head fall back against the couch. "i am not ready for that."

alessia just laughed, leaning over to press a quick kiss to leah's cheek. "well, you survived today. that's a start."

leah exhaled dramatically. "barely."

ella shook her head, grinning. "i'm just glad i got to witness this moment. leah williamson, fearless leader, defeated by a five-year-old."

leah shot her a look. "you try handling tiny in full meltdown mode, then we'll talk."

alessia grinned. "so... you'll watch her again next time?"

leah groaned, but she was smiling. "yeah, yeah. but next time, you're handling the tantrum."

alessia smirked. "deal." and despite everything, leah had to admit, tantrums and all, she wouldn't trade her little mama and you days for anything.

[shmeddieshmunson]

Roughhousing

Summary: Eddie Munson is a roughhouser without an off switch, and it eventually gets him into a sticky situation with his best friend when a wrestling match goes... Unexpectedly.

Cute and fluffy bestfriend! Eddie. This idea has been rotting my brain for years at this point, and I wanted to expand it from the silly blurb it previously existed as. I'd happily write more for this that could easily get smutty if people want it, but otherwise it'll stay a dreamy silly little one shot.

Eddie x Reader. 2nd person POV, no y/n or gendering of reader. Swearing. Smoking. non-explicit NSFW.

Word count: ~2.5k

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Eddie Munson roughhouses all the time, with anyone who will roughhouse back, at every opportunity.

“Race you to the street sign!” and he’s nothing but an echo of thundering steps as he bolts.

He’s shoved every one of his friends into a bush, several times over. Leapt into a few himself.

He’ll arm wrestle at the slightest provocation, or to solve any problem. 

“NOT IN THE KITCHEN!!” is frequently heard being hollered by Wayne in the Munson household.

Wrestling, tag, jumping up to touch ceilings, jamming himself in dumb places, climbing things, throwing shit– just shoving and smacking and being physically playful all the time. He’s covered in weird knicks and bruises constantly, because he interacts with the world and his friends so tactilely. 

Especially you, because you always play his games. You sling whatever shit he’s on right back at him, and he loves it. Two peas in a pod, duking it out happily.

Tonight wasn’t particularly different from any other night over the last year or so. He had come over to yours after his shift, where Steve and Robin were already hanging out. He’d walked in halfway through some terrible movie, reeking of the joint he smoked in his van moments prior. 

“Anyone wanna smoke?” He smiled with his whole face, not bothering with formal hellos as he pulled out another already rolled joint. General babblings of agreement had him lighting it quickly and passing it to Robin. With a new smokey warmth to the room as it circulated, he finally settled a little bit more, still not bothering to try and get hooked into the movie he’d missed so much of. 

So he talked through the rest of it.  

Throwing popcorn at the screen when the characters wouldn't turn around to see what you all could, treating it like his own personal Mystery Science Theater 3000. Although you feigned annoyance at first, shushing him and rolling your eyes, you were cracking up and riffing on the movie with him within minutes. Mocking and mimicking the lackluster line deliveries, pointing out the boom mic in shots. Reenacting the awful action sequences. All four of you giggling non-stop, but the two of you deeper in the shenanigans, as usual.

He started to smack your hand every time you reached into the popcorn bowl– like a game of Whack-A-Mole. 

You were cackling as a piece of popcorn threatened to come out of your nose, yet reached back into the bowl, assaulted with another flurry of slaps and grabbing. You smacked his hand back, hard, and he whipped his head at you with a fire in his eyes– like the opening gun shot of a race had been fired. He grabbed your wrist, and you grabbed his right back, and you were nearly instantly in a whirlwind of escalation. Steve nudged you off the couch subtly as you grappled, knowing where this was going. He didn’t feel like refereeing your daily wrestling match in his stoney state, the couch was way too comfy to be the mat tonight. 

“Hands off my fucking popcoooorn!!” he wailed, as he hooked his leg around yours and tumbled you both fully to the ground.

“It’s my– fucking– popcorn!” you grunted out as you leveled him next to you and locked his arm against your body. “You’re literally in my house!” you spat the sentence in the moment of reprieve you had from pinning him.

He wiggled and writhed, squirming right out from under you. “Slippery fucker…” you growled. The two of you rolled around like a tornado on the ground, knocking into the table, Steve and Robin occasionally yelling things you weren’t paying attention to. Though, you thought you caught a, “get his ass!” from Robin as you rolled over top again. 

Oh, you had gotten him this time. You had gotten him so good. 

You locked your other leg over him, successfully trapping him in the Full Nelson you were going for. You yelled in victory, squeezing him and laughing, your face nestling between his face and shoulder at this angle, a mocking “WOOO!” in the style of Ric Flair ringing in his ear. The entire back of his body pressed against your front. And he stopped squirming. Like… full body tense, not moving a muscle, stopped squirming. You weren’t even sure he was breathing anymore. You instantly let go of the pressure you had him with, all the silliness of the moment gone. It’s fun when you’re playing, but you feel like something went wrong.

“Whoa… dude, you okay?” you ask, working to untangle yourself from him. He comes back to in a funny moment, and starts fumbling and tripping and trying to untangle himself too. His frantic movements are making it so much worse though, and Steve and Robin start to question and gather too, uselessly trying to help unfurl the pretzel you two are in. You’re baffled as he’s kicking and thrashing, trying to scoot away while still half leg locked, anxious sounds falling out of his mouth now. 

Is he blushing? No, you’re sure you’re red in the face too from the match. 

But then you see it. 

He sees you see it.

Eddie’s got a boner.

The avalanche of words that comes tumbling out of him is barely coherent to begin with, and you couldn’t possibly fathom listening to a single word of it right now anyways. Robin is rambling back at him, their voices competing, and you’re sure she’s probably trying to help. 

You’re also pretty sure she has no idea what’s going on at all, because she might shut the fuck up if she had noticed. Or maybe she did notice and isn’t shutting the fuck up to try to divert some attention? Either way, you’re failing miserably to stop staring like you’re internally screaming at yourself to do. But your eyes are drawn like a moth to a porch light. You look back and forth between the tent he has pitched in his pants, and his completely feral and fearful face a couple of times. You open your mouth and close it again, not being able to push a single word out of your throat. He’s finally physically separated from you, gets out from under Robin’s momentarily immobilizing beratement of worry, and flees out of the room faster than you’ve seen him cross any frivolous finish line. 

You're literally slack jawed, still completely speechless. But you can feel your heart pounding, and the hotness of your now certainly blushing face. You’re not sure you’re breathing. Or you’re breathing way too heavily. You can’t tell. 

All you know is that it is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you in your life. 

You make the mistake of looking over at Steve and Robin, who are all eyebrows and wide eyes. 

“What happened?” “What did you do?” their voices collide in your head. “Is he hurt?” “Are you okay?” They’re rapid firing questions, and you start to try to answer them with the nothing that you know.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I DON’T KNOW!!” your voice starts out soft, but is battling their volume quickly. “I really don’t know I just– we were just– and then I– and he just STOPPED and–” it’s your turn to ramble. Your hands are flailing, and you swat at Robin who’s standing over you. She grabs your hand and yanks you up, and neither of you are listening at all while the heated and chaotic discussion continues. 

You can’t get the image of his jeans, so tight and bulging in the crotch, out of your head. 

You blink at Robin, realizing neither one of you had spoken for a few seconds. You look at Steve, whose eyebrows are disappearing under the flop of his bangs. And you swear there’s a knowing twinkle in his eye now. He’s been conspicuously quiet for a minute. He glances towards the dark abyss of the unlit hallway Eddie had scuttled into, then back at you, finishing his silent diatribe with a bitchy head bob. After a moment of processing, you stride towards the hallway. Steve rolls his eyes and pulls Robin back down onto the couch with him. At least he’s a good whisperer, nothing but an occasional hushed murmur from him. A louder “What?!” gets loudly and disbelievingly whispered by Robin, but Steve shushes her and keeps gossiping in her ear. 

You step into the rectangle of light on the floor of the hallway, half obscured by the darkness now. “Eddie..?” you call uncertainly.

“Please fuck right off,” he pleads from down the hallway to your left. You immediately take a few more strides in that direction, and as your eyes begin to adjust, you can just barely make out his fluffy headed silhouette slumped against the wall. “Fuck, seriously… Please leave me alone,” he says again, but you can hear how half hearted it is. At least you hope that’s what you’re hearing as you close the distance. You lean against the wall across from him.

“Dude… I… Are you okay?” you awkwardly ask. But it’s earnest. The sigh he lets out would sound dramatic in so many other contexts. But it’s earnest, too.

“No! Fucking, I mean… yes? Shit, I…” you can hear the embarrassment oozing off his tongue while he struggles to find words. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my fucking life,” he finally mutters. If the hall lights were on you know he still wouldn’t look you in the eye right now, and you can hear him nervously shifting around. You can picture the way he might be anxiously playing with his hair.

“Hey man, it’s really okay. Shit happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s just… me… ” you offer, and you mean it, but it kinda stings to say it. 

It’s just you… You, his permanent buddy system. You, the heel to his babyface in your wrestling matches. You, his flirting sparring ring. You, his never anything too serious. You, his touchy feely best friend. And you maybe start to get an inkling of why that stung to say out loud… 

You, who is starting to realize that you may already be helplessly head over heels. You, who’s feeling like a real dumbass right now.

He huffs out a laugh. “Just you…” he says with a sadness wrapped in a little zing of sarcasm, and you think maybe he can read your mind while you stare at his shape in the dark. You can see the glimmer of his eyes now that yours have fully adjusted to the lack of light. The TV turned back on in the other room is a dull background noise compared to the pounding of your heart that feels like it’s rattling your whole skeleton. 

The next moments of silence weigh on you both heavily while your minds race separately. It’s like horses running a race next to each other– fit with blinders that keep them in their own lane, galloping hooves showing no signs of slowing. 

“I just–” you start, but you hear his voice at the same time and you both stop. Another moment of silence ticks by.

“Christ on a stick…” he mutters, and pushes off the wall to stand. He inhales and exhales deeply, and you’re literally waiting with bated breath. “We both know what happened,” he finally says, clearly working to have his voice come out somewhat steady. “And I’d be perfectly happy to never talk about it again.” His voice cracks a little on the word happy, but he musters the rest of the sentence. 

“I… wouldn’t be…” you say in a low voice, and you’re not sure if you actually said that out loud or not.

Something almost like a ‘huh?’ comes out of him, and he splutters through a few more sounds. He waits for an elaboration, which you deem totally fair. Where the fuck are you going with this?

“It’s just…” you hesitate, but you’re already this deep into it. “That’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Welp. That’s out there now, I guess. 

Your ears are ringing, but you’re picturing his straining pants again and think you might be suffocating in the silence. 

A breathy sound comes from his side of the hall. Then another. A rhythmic low toned sound cuts through the ringing, and you realize he’s chuckling. He’s chuckling at you right now. You just admitted this horrifying thought to him, and he’s laughing at you?

A few moments of mortification later, you’re starting to crack and chuckle too.

“What?!” you demand, but his laughter only gets more boisterous. The sound of it relieves you more than you were prepared for. Your shoulders relax a little, and you two are giggling almost like usual together.

“You tell me that me popping a boner while we wrestle is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you, and you expect me not to laugh a little?” he teases you. 

“How are you turning this back on me?! You’re the one who popped a boner while being Full Nelson-ed, and I'm the one who’s being laughed at?!” You two slip back into your banter and bickering so easily, it’s one of the most natural things in the world. You hear what might be a laugh in the other room, and then a smack and more shushing, but neither of you pay it much mind. 

“It’s a little sad, honestly,” Eddie snickers.

“Sad?! What’s sad?”

“That something hotter than that has never happened to you.”

You gasp and scoff in offense that is half real and half exaggerated. “Like you’ve had it any better, loser” you quip.

“Oh, me and lefty have it better every night, thinking about you,” he coos. He seems almost entirely back to himself– the words are clearly a joke, but still a little more frantic and on edge than his usual theatrics. 

“A loser and a liar,” you laugh a little shrilly. Your heartbeat has not settled at all. Where the fuck is the line of joking and seriousness right now? You realize you’ve never wondered that– you, his never anything too serious. It’s only ever been a joke.

And he doesn’t respond– he just takes the one step closer that is still between you, grabs your face, and kisses you. That feels pretty certainly like not a joke. 

You absolutely scramble at the sudden unexplored contact exploding between you two. But for the first time since you stopped wrestling… Not a single fiber of your being hesitates. It feels like the missing puzzle piece. You wonder how you’ve spent so many nights with this boy not kissing him. His soft lips mashing into yours feels like the moment an orchestra tunes and reaches harmony. Clashing, sloppy, harmony.

He pulls away briefly, “not a loser…” he mumbles into your mouth and kisses you again, “and not a liar…” he kisses you one more time, and then presses his forehead to yours. You share heavy breaths for a few minutes. Giggling, and breathing hard, and smooching, and fumbling over each other.

“Maybe still a loser… But I like you that way.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it, and he smiles back, laughing some more.

Eddie Munson is a roughhouser… but he’s a surprisingly soft kisser. 

You laugh again as you think to yourself how doomed that is to last as you kiss him again.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Childhood friends to lovers w modern Jace and he’s just really protective over you. When they go out to a party, he’s just begging you to not start anything with any guys, and he’s lowkey mad at you for wearing something revealing. You end up really drunk to the point where Jace has to take you home and you’re just rlly touchy and bold, confessing things you would never say if you sober. And he’s just being flirty back and teasing you abt the stuff you’re saying about him. Idek where this is going but like eventual smut. 😩 Ty, your works are so good.

I love college modern!Jace. To my eyes, he is always part of the hockey team and friends with Cregan. This is how I see modern!Jace

Sorry, I didn't do smut because consent when drunk is not valid consent (you know what I mean?) but everything else is checked!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Jace sat on your bed as you finished getting ready in your bathroom. He played with the ears of your purple giraffe plushie, smiling when he saw the friendship bracelet still tied to its neck. 

‘’Do you know if Jason is gonna be there tonight?’’ 

‘’Lannister?’’ 

You hummed and Jace grimaced. 

‘’He’s a fucking asshole and only want you for sex. Don’t talk to him. Okay?’’ 

You rolled your eyes in the mirror, tired of Jace disapproving of every guy you talked to. He wasn't trying to make all guys seem bad; he just knew them and their intentions better than you. He was looking out for you.

And you trusted his judgment. 

‘’Yes, dad,’’ you replied sarcastically as you came out of the bathroom. 

Jace’s head lifted when you came into view, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the top you were wearing. To his eyes, this was a bra — with a longer bodice. While you looked really good in it, guys at the party will think the same and oggle you in ways that would make Jace want to punch them.

‘’Eh, is there a second shirt that goes over this one?’’ 

You frowned at his question. ‘’No. Why? What’s wrong with my shirt?’’ 

Jace took a few seconds to think of a way of saying that your shirt was showing a lot without sounding like he was calling you slutty. ‘’Aren’t you gonna get cold? It’s nearly November.’’

You shrugged, grabbing your phone and dorm keys. ‘’I’m fine. You always give me your jacket when I get cold.’’ 

‘’Right. But maybe you should take a jacket with you? In case I’m not available to give you mine.’’ 

‘’Not available?’’ Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘’Jacaerys Velaryon, are you planning on leaving with a girl tonight?’’ you teased, poking at his chest. You’ve seen him kissing girls at parties, but he never left with any of them. 

He ignored your question, clearly not wanting to discuss his romantic life. ‘’Let’s go. Cregan is already on his third beer. I need to get my revenge on air hockey before he gets too drunk.’’ 

You laughed, slipping your phone into your small purse. ‘’Can I play too?’’ 

‘’We’ll see,’’ Jace said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of your dorm. 

It’s not that he didn’t want you to play. You’ve played with the boys before. It’s just that your shirt was not ideal for playing air hockey. If you leaned on the table, everything would be exposed and he didn’t like the idea of his friends looking at your tits. 

The music was loud at the frat house, plunging everyone into the ambiance. You were sipping your second drink and dancing with your friends after watching Cregan annihilate Jace at air hockey. Jace seemed distracted, his eyes scanning the room instead of focusing on the game. Maybe he was searching for a girl?

Shaking off the thought, you headed to the kitchen and made yourself another drink. You should be happy if he found someone he liked, but the truth was, you were secretly jealous. He had been your best friend since kindergarten, you should have dibs on him.

You put the caps back on the bottles and reached for your glass, but someone snatched it away.

‘’Hey! Give it back!’’ 

‘’No more drinks for you,’’ Jace said from behind you, pouring the contents of your glass into the sink.

‘’It’s my first drink. Okay, maybe my second…or third.’’ A giggle escaped your lips. You were a lightweight when it came to drinking, a fact you always seemed to forget. ‘’I think I’m a little tipsy.’’

Jace raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ‘’Tipsy?’’ He shook his head and suggested you head home and watch Grey’s Anatomy.  

You pouted, not wanting to leave the party just yet, but the thought of watching Grey's Anatomy with Jace sounded nice. He was always so invested in the episodes and characters, but it was a secret. If his teammates knew, they would never let him live it down.

His arm was around you, leading you out of the frat house and into the cool night air. As you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for Jace’s presence. You didn’t know many guys who would offer to take their drunk friend home without any bad intentions.  

‘’You’re a good person, Jace,’’ you said, his jacket over your shoulders. ‘’Always looking out for me.’’

He chuckled, pulling you closer when a group of drunk guys walked by. ‘’What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?’’

You didn’t respond. 

Once you were at your dorm, you set up your laptop and settled into your small bed. It was a tight fit, but you and Jace made it work. 

The episode started where you left off. 

‘’Who do you think is better? McDreamy or McSteamy?’’ you asked as Derek appeared on the screen. 

‘’I don’t know,’’ Jace responded, lying comfortably against your pillows. ‘’Mark is eye-candy, but I think early seasons McDreamy was peak.’’ 

You nodded, laying your head against Jace’s shoulder. ‘’Same. I have a soft spot for brunets. And curly hair.’’

‘’Derek doesn’t have curly hair…’’ 

‘’But you do and it’s cute.’’ 

‘’You think my hair is cute?’’ Jace repeated, teasing you.

‘’It’s so curly and bouncy. And soft too.’’ You twirled one of Jace’s curly hair around your finger, your fingers lingering as position caused your chest to press slightly against his. ‘’And you smell very good. Except when you play hockey. You’re stinky.’’

Jace laughed, the sound vibrating through your body. ‘’Good to know. I’ll make sure I shower before seeing you.’’ 

You smiled, your fingers still playing with his hair. ‘’You’re so pretty.’’ 

Your last compliment took him by surprise, his cheeks flushing. Had you not been intoxicated on alcohol, tonight would have taken a different turn, but Jace was respectful. He would never make a move without your sober consent.

‘’Eh, thanks. Let's...let's continue watching Greys.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9

All and more taglist:  @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  @Anouk @nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3

[the-real-timeloop-tourney]

Best Character Stuck in a Timeloop

Propaganda for Flowey:

We don't see his resets directly but we know he's done this potentially hundreds if not thousands of times, doing every possible thing he can and pretty much losing sight of who he was at the start. His loops are fully self inflicted and he could've stopped any time he wanted (and frisk DID eventually fall down and take the timeline from him!), but he still remembers their resets, too. Second, worse timeloop go ------------------------------------ Not only does Flowey have timeloop trauma, that trauma makes him serve as a narrative foil to The Player Themselves. I know UT is overhyped but this is still the coolest thing ever to me.

Propaganda for Homura:

you are 14 years old. after your first friends at your new school revealed they are Real Life Magical Girls, they die horribly against this super powerful monster witch. you make a wish to meet your best friend again so you can save her this time. every time you try to reach a golden ending where everyone lives goes horribly wrong so you resign yourself to letting your best friend's (and once your) friends die every time so you can save your best friend. you become colder, more efficient as the loops go on. you go through the same few months around a hundred times to try to save your best friend from her fate. this time you'll save her. she sacrifices herself for the every single magical girl and becomes a god and now you're the only one who remembers her. great! hooray! anyways a win for homura is a win for magical girls (and yuri). why relive a day or so when you can relive months am i right? ------------------------------------ "Poor girl relives the same 2 months 100 times just to prevent her doomed-by-the-narrative girlfriend from dying and becoming God ------------------------------------ - Was literally in the timeloop for 12 years - Did it all for yuri - Became like. the devil (also for yuri) - magical girl who's weapon is just normal ass guns and bombs and shit " ------------------------------------ When you go into a time loop to save your girlfriend from dying but she just keeps dying horribly in every universe so you slowly start to get sick of looping and start using more direct routes to try to save her to the point where she doesn’t even know you anymore as you’re just trying to save her but it gets to the point where you’ve looped so many times trying to save her that her soul has become so powerful that she can become god only then does she remember you. And she does to free you and all the other magical girls in history from their pain but because she did this she rewrote the rules of the universe and therefore became a non physical entity and you had to watch her rebuild the universe. No one else even remembers she existed except for her little brother who sees her more as an imaginary friend than anything else and the only thing you have to remember her by is the pink ribbon that she wore in her hair. Btw you and your friends still aren’t free from being magical girls but at least you can’t become horrible monsters who are but a shell of your former self when everything becomes to much so now the only risk is dying in combat horribly instead. ------------------------------------ There was a psp game once and I'm pretty sure the whole thing was just recurring nightmares of the timeloop. Like. This isn't canon. But it lines up to me. She went to catholic school once, also, like, she deserves a win. Not because of Christianity or whatever but in spite of it.