#workouts for busy schedules

[healthzenith]

10 Quick Workouts for Busy Professionals: Stay Fit Even on a Tight Schedule

The good news is that you don’t need hours in the gym to stay fit. Short, efficient workouts can deliver significant benefits, from building strength to burning calories. In fact, just 10 to 30 minutes of the right kind of exercise can make all the differ

In today’s fast-paced world, finding time to work out can feel like a challenge. This is especially true for busy professionals juggling packed schedules, meetings, and deadlines. Yet, maintaining physical health is crucial for long-term well-being, mental clarity, and sustained energy throughout the day. The good news is that you don’t need hours in the gym to stay fit. Short, efficient…

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next— there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

[bangavumi]

Time-Saving Gym Hacks: Get Fit Even on a Busy Schedule

Time-Saving Gym Hacks: Get Fit Even on a Busy Schedule Discover smart and efficient workout strategies to stay fit without compromising your busy daily routine. Introduction In today’s fast-paced world, finding time for fitness can be challenging. Between work commitments, family responsibilities, and social engagements, squeezing in a gym session often takes a backseat. However, staying fit…

[dynamichealthinsights]

Staying Active and Fit with a Busy Schedule: A Comprehensive Guide to Prioritizing Your Health

In the hustle and bustle of modern life, it’s easy to let exercise fall by the wayside. Work deadlines, family commitments, and social obligations can quickly fill up your calendar, leaving little room for physical activity. However, prioritizing your health and fitness is not a luxury but a necessity. Regular exercise offers a plethora of benefits that extend far beyond physical fitness,…

[salem-s]

SUNRISES, PENALTIES, AND LOSING SLEEP OVER YOU ── RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT

SYNOPSIS when Rafe can't sleep, he ends up at the soccer field to get some practice in. however, he can't seem to stop his sunrise practices when he discovers the pretty girl who reads on the bleachers is there every morning.

WARNINGS language, so much fluff??? consists of jock!rafe and nerd-ish!reader, college au, mainly rafe pov.

WORD COUNT 5.6k.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER everything is embarrassing by sky ferreira

Rafe contradicts himself this time -- he actually doesn't mind being up before the sun if that means some more practice...and some peace and quiet.

Surprisingly, he's quite the night owl, fighting the plague that puts him to sleep by distracting himself with literally anything he can get his hands on, even if that meant school work that's been pushed off for the last minute. He can go all night at a bar and he's the only one out of his friends to be able to actually pull all nighters on their designated movie night.  

While this has severely skewed his sleeping schedule, Rafe prefers to get things done while the rest of the world around him is asleep, you know, for some alone time.

Sure, Rafe's a pretty social guy: he enjoys time with friends and his teammates and classmates, and he definitely jumps at the chance to spend time with them whenever he can. It's a pretty rare occurrence where he isn't with someone or talking to someone, because he's a light converser and easy to fall in stride with. He's the stranger that people often fall in love with and never see again, perhaps it's the handsomely boyish smile or his ability to talk to a brick wall. 

And yet, there's moments like right now where some alone time is needed. 

Once again, Rafe's been up for nearly a day now, the sun just peaking over the horizon behind him, signaling the start of a lot of people's days (and the end of his, since it's Saturday and he'll need to recharge before going out tonight). The sleep simply...doesn't come to him.

Not easily, anyway.

After nights out with his friends (or when they go to bed), Rafe normally tinkers with things in his room, building trinkets from scratch or blueprinting random designs because he's bored, which he doesn't normally admit to people. His ability to draw was something his father always told him to push down deep, to ignore and focus on the money-driven careers of the world: business, science, all that crap.

Well, his father isn't here. And even if he was, Rafe wouldn't really care, anyway.

Sleep doesn't come very naturally to him during the night, which is highly unusual considering he has no insomnia or trouble sleeping. He just doesn't get tired. Usually the sunrise shining through his window signals him to try and sleep. 

He doesn't recall the last time he's really looked at a sunrise, this time being exceptional with colors portraying burning passion and dragon fruit, and the dirty-blond hums to himself, halting his movements to stop and enjoy it for a second.

The soccer ball planted on the ground by his foot is still as Rafe's balance. He holds himself together to take a deep breath in and observe the world around him.

Sure, he's never up this early but, goddamn, it really is pretty.

Hues of pink, orange, purple emerge in sight, getting lighter by the second and changing into something more tranquil. He's at ease. There's something more content and comforting about sunrises than sunsets, and while he cannot put his finger on the exact reason, he deems this a fact. 

Rafe mentally notes to do some sunrise workouts more often. 

At his university, he's on the club soccer team, which isn't the big leagues but it keeps him and shape and the competition isn't nearly as stressful, which he likes. Rafe enjoys the sport to have fun, and while he does care about winning and beating these other lame schools, at the end of the day it's just putting a ball through a net and spending time with his teammates, so he never holds a grudge if his team loses.

He's spent so many years fighting for love, fighting for affection, fighting for meaningless trophies to impress his father that in the end he just...realized it is what it is. Once Rafe learned the implication of life will happen anyway regardless of how certain things go, his outlook on competition changed.

Anger subsided into contention, rage simmered into acceptance, and fear contorted to nonchalance.

Rafe learned a long time ago that, no matter how athletic he may play or how many As he may earn, nothing will ever satisfy his father's insatiability for perfection.

That lifted a considerably heavy weight off his shoulders, once he started living to please himself rather than everybody else.

Of course, he still plays with heart and the frustration of the game naturally spurs during heated moments. But the implications of self pressure are no longer there, and Rafe has found incredible solace with his teammates.

They usually go out after games to celebrate, win or loss, anyway.

Rafe can't really argue with that.

The reason Rafe's alone now is because 1. all of his friends are sleeping and 2. he didn't get drunk enough to pass out.

He had a couple shots early in the night, but curse his heavy weight intake for making it hard to get drunk. So now he's here at the practice field at the ungodly hours of the morning - because he's bored and doesn't want to sleep just yet, and he doesn't have to worry about any classes, just about his plans tonight. 

Besides, his skills could always use some tidying up. 

Rafe goes back to his workout routine after his admiration for the sky, the sun rising behind him mindlessly while he dribbles the ball up and down the field to practice his precision, working on mind trick tricks in terms of scoring (Rafe is a center midfielder, no way could he play defense).

Sweat glistens his forehead as the coolness of the night gradually dissipates, and he doesn't know how long he's been on this field, maybe a few hours? Days? At this point, someone could've told him he's been here for a year and he'd probably take their word for it.

But Rafe, after shooting the ball and missing, notices someone sitting on the bleachers with a book.

You.

A very pretty girl, who now has the book in your lap and is instead watching him.

Rafe just shrugs and gives a welcoming wave with a smile that you definitely can't see, but instead of waving back, you instead close the book with such gentleness and sit up to speak.

"Isn't the ball supposed to go in the net?"

Rafe recoils.

What?

He bites back a laugh because at this ungodly hour, everything is funny no matter what. He decides to ignore the hot raspiness of your voice and pushes it to the back of his mind, because he'll want to think about that later.

Despite his internal turmoil, Rafe plants his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side. "I don't suppose you could do better?"

You chuckle sweetly, even Rafe can hear that from the distance and thinks it's faint music to his ears. "No, I can't. Have fun playing kickball, though."

Rafe simply stands there, blinking with a dumbfounded expression and a hint of a grin, taking a moment to soak in the faint image of you, a beautiful stranger, who goes back to reading your book. Shamelessly, he continues staring at you, as he can can make out how your silhouette is swallowed by a crimson hoodie looking comfortable enough to make Rafe yawn.

Fuck, now he's tired.

It doesn't take long for Rafe to pack up his things after doing some last work-downs and begin walking off the field (and of course the exit gate is right by the bleachers). The sun is now risen, just barely, and he can already feel the heat coming to bite him in the ass. He's never been a fan of the heat, especially at the start of the school year where it's basically sweltering summer.

Besides, he's been yawning for the past few minutes and his movements are more sluggish than they were before, so he takes this as a hint to finally get some rest.

You look up from your book and notice the alarmingly attractive soccer player leaving. Going against your normal tendency to hide and avoid talking to people you don't know, you can't help but feel inclined to smile when the stranger perks up and makes eye contact with you. The wild thumping of your heart only augments when you notice how pretty his eyes are, a bright blue despite the exhaustion behind them.

Rafe sends you a boyish smile and a nod, almost as if he's known you forever and bidding you a familiar farewell.

Once he gets closer, he notices your coffee sitting idly beside you, ice melting as the sun starts beating down on it. He also notices how pretty you really are, much prettier up close.

"Do you always read at the ass crack of dawn or what?" Rafe decides to pipe up, making his tone lighthearted so you don't think any different.

You huff out a laugh. "I've been here every morning since the semester started, and I'm just seeing you for the first time, why?"

Despite the certainty of your tone, Rafe doesn't ignore the sheepish look that immediately creeps on your face, trying to act cordial but he can tell by the way you're wringing your fingers together, you're somewhat skeptical of him. He decides to spare you and not to comment on the nerves, because he also feels heat in his face (he's gonna blame the workout, not the hot stranger talking to him). 

"Late night, couldn't sleep, and I was bored so I thought I'd shoot around until I got tired."

"Wait a minute," you say, your tone suddenly serious and your expression indulgent, "you haven't slept yet?"

Rafe shrugs nonchalantly, not taking into consideration that other people have normal sleeping schedules, finally meeting someone who does.

"Nah, this is normal for me. I'm surprised you're up...willingly...that's honestly terrifying and I'm scared of you," he jokes and spins the soccer ball on the tip of his ring finger. 

You widen your eyes and let out a low whistle, the look of shock coating your features. "Not sure if I should be fearing you instead. I can't tell if you're a god or just fucking stupid."

This makes Rafe bark out a laugh, one that he doesn't expect to come out, but the fact that this beautiful, fragile, and relaxed stranger just dropped the f-bomb nonchalantly is somehow fucking hilarious to Rafe...or perhaps it's the lack of sleep that makes his perception of things much more different and jagged.

Either way, he doesn't care, because the smile on your face is something Rafe's mind is never, ever going to forget. 

"Probably the latter, unfortunately," Rafe admits in that cheery self-deprecating tone that everyone takes normally. "Well, sunny, I'll leave you to it."

Then he pauses for a second, biting his tongue to refrain from saying something too forward.

"I'll hopefully see you around?"

Your blush intensifies (at the nickname or his confidence, you don't know), and neither speak on it. "Yeah, that'd be nice. See ya, kickball."

Before Rafe can defend his sport, you open your book back up and pick up where you left off, lounging back and crossing your legs to get more comfortable as Rafe splutters and huffs out a response that you seemingly ignore.

Your small smirk of victory makes Rafe want to either punch it off or kiss it off. Please don't ask him which one he prefers. 

Rafe's been at the soccer field almost every morning now for the past week. 

He figures that he'll sleep during the day on the weekends and in between his classes during the week, setting a multitude of alarms and not getting the amount of sleep he wishes to. His sister, Sarah, hassles him because she wants to meet this stranger who's been taking up all of Rafe's free time, finally happy that her brother is 'seeing someone' who isn't a complete jerk.

His best friend, Kelce, begs Rafe to introduce them or at least tell them a name, and have even tried to sneak out of his apartment with Rafe to spy on them (to which Rafe immediately shut down). But Rafe likes the idea of keeping you all to himself, just for a little bit.

Sure, his sleep schedule is even more messed up, but seeing the beautiful stranger every morning is such a goddamned bonus.

Oh, and it's no longer stranger. He learns your name the third time you see him.

Rafe learns that you're majoring in graphic design but that you have a serious love towards history and art, and immediately shy-ed away when he asked you to draw something, anything, on the spot.

And Rafe thinks it's so attractive that you're calm, collected, and easily embarrassed. You're shy, no matter how much you try to hide it. But you've been getting more and more comfortable with him every morning and he counts that as a huge step in his book. The books you read every morning are nonfiction pieces for your classes, and bring a sketch book a couple times a week as a substitute when you don't feel like indulging in history at the ass crack of dawn. 

He's been practicing soccer every morning now and his teammates comment on his change in precision and dribbling, and all Rafe can do is shrug and bitch about how he's the best on the team and can't help his natural talent (which his friends are used to hearing, and immediately humble him).

Well, little do they know you're the entire reason for that, and Rafe teeters between telling you that or keeping that to himself. 

The only downside to all of this is that Rafe's sleep schedule is...no longer. 

He stays up during the night, partying, sketching, whatever, and then makes his way to the field around five-am to practice and wait for you to get there (to make it look like he's already been practicing), and sometimes he doesn't even practice but instead waits on the bleachers for you if he has a game that day, not wanting to push it.

But then Rafe stays with you well into the morning, time that he usually spends sleeping is spent talking and chatting ears off.

Pathetically, he doesn't want to miss a day with you, yet he's really fucking tired.

Maybe you'll understand? Or you won't, and Rafe will have to go back into a panic to figure out if you're actually into him or not. 

Rafe genuinely thinks he's dumb, because you'll graze his hand against his or subtly compliment him, and he doesn't know how to respond, and will just carry on normally because he doesn't want to assume anything is going on.

Because if there's nothing happening between you, then Rafe doesn't want to be embarrassed for thinking that way. Unfortunately, he needs verbal confirmation if you're into him, because these subtle ways of being touchy and flirty are very confusing to a dumb person.

A.K.A., him.

The realization that you're horrifically down bad for Rafe Cameron hits you at approximately 3:22am on a random Sunday, a week after you meet.

You'd gone to bed around eleven, trying to get some early shut eye before your history exam tomorrow. The prep had you cozied up in the library all day, forcing yourself to reiterate the material to no end until you were seeing your handwriting in your head when you shut your eyes.

That's usually your tale-telling sign to know when to wrap it up.

But the effort to get plenty of rest proves fruitless in its attempt due to the giant fucking spider you see a foot away from your face.

Panic rises in your chest.

After all, you often wake up naturally during the night at least once to turn over or stretch your legs and sometimes think you see something, like the hoodie on the back of your chair that looks like a person or the piece of string on your floor that emulates a snake. In the moment, you try to convince yourself that it's one of those pranks your brain likes to play on you.

When it moves, however, that's when you scream.

You fliiiiiing off the bed, landing harshly on the tile with a thud, probably dragging half of your bedspread with you as you fumble for the lamp switch on your dresser.

The light makes it worse, because it proves your suspicions as you stare at the biggest spider you've ever seen on the wall, inches from your pillow.

Of course, you panic.

Heart racing, you freeze in your spot as you can't seem to take your eyes off of it, scared that it'll disappear into your sheets or behind your bed if you move or look away for a fraction of a moment. It's a standoff, you realize, and it doesn't look like it's going anywhere.

And there's no way you're getting near it.

Your fingers shake as you reach for your phone on the dresser, not once taking your eyes off the creature. Once it's in your hand, you pause and suck in a breath.

What the fuck is your phone gonna do?

Think, you repeat in your head. Breathe. Call Laney.

Your thumb ghosts over your best friend's contact, but your heart sinks when you catch a glimpse of the time.

Christ, it's the middle of the night. No one is awake at this hour.

You groan, eyes flickering between your phone and the spider that stays still on your wall, probably thinking of its plan to kill you, or whatever arachnids normally plot.

Trembling in place, you run through your options.

A. You could attempt to throw something at it, but that would only work if you had a guaranteed throwing accuracy, which you do not have. This will probably result in you missing entirely, and the spider vanishing in your sheets to never be seen again. Nope.

B. You could attempt to call Laney or your RA for some roadside assistance, but you know that Laney of all people, who once shrieked and ran from a wasp (it was really a fly), would really be of no help. And your RA often slept through a lot of concerning events, as in multiple fire alarms, a cat fight right outside his door, and, once, a literal firecracker. Nope.

C. You could grab your lighter and attempt to light it on fire. Given the circumstances, you're also guessing that's a fat nope.

D. There's a-

Your endless spiraling comes to a halt when you get a text, a fucking text, none other than from Rafe Cameron. At three in the morning.

Rafe: hey! someone make a greg and rowley edit to fake plastic trees. got me fucked up lowkey. heres the link. lets debrief about it later.

A moment passes and you blink hastily at the message, wondering if your eyes are playing tricks on you or if he, truly, is awake right now casually looking at god knows what. You re-read it once, twice, double checking the time stamp he sent it, mere minutes ago, and your chest pains in embarrassment at what you're about to do.

Your gaze darts from the text to the spider and back to the text.

God, your options are thin.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you're pressing on his contact, hitting the call button.

It rings once. "Please don't tell me I woke you up from that stupid text."

"No, um." You bite your lip as you eye the spider. "Uh, are you busy right now?"

"Besides talking to you? Nothing, pretty. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

You hate how your cheeks burn at his nonchalance, but are thankful he can't see you right now, even though he might at some point in the nearby future.

"What's wrong?" Rafe's tone morphs from teasing into what sounds like concern.

"It's stupid," you whisper, swallowing your pride. "But, uh, there's a giant spider in my room, I'm not kidding the size of my palm. I'm just, like, kinda freaking out?"

There's shuffling on the other end, a grunt, then a thud.

"Ow," Rafe grumbles and it sounds far away, as if you aren't meant to have heard it. "What dorm are you in?"

Your heart flips. "Shaffer. But Rafe, you really don't-"

"Room number?"

"509. But-"

"Nah," he interrupts nonchalantly, as if he won't entertain the thought of not helping you. "I'll be there in five. Talk to me, what'd you do today?"

Rafe arrives in three minutes.

Creeping to the door without taking your eyes off the spider, you open it to reveal Rafe Cameron, clad in sweatpants and a ridiculous graphic t-shirt (that looks like it's inside out), hair disheveled and sticking in every direction, holding his phone to his ear where you're still connected on the call. His green sneakers are untied. His smile is bright.

You try not to stare. You really try. Especially since you're supposed to be keeping an eye on the problem to begin with, but it's hard to resist when he looks so disgustingly endearing.

Eager, even, to help you out.

"Good to know it hasn't eaten you yet," Rafe jests, hanging up the call and putting his phone in his pocket.

You swallow the lump in your throat and step aside to let him in. "You really didn't have to-"

He places a cool palm over your mouth, startling you into shutting up.

Blinking stupidly up at him, all your senses are inhibited when you realize how close he is, how you can smell his cologne and see how bright his blue eyes really are.

"None of that." Rafe grins at your wide eyes. "Now, where is it?"

It's almost annoying how fearless he is.

While you're huddled in the opposite corner of the room, hugging yourself through your thin pajamas, Rafe simply scans the scene in front of him: the array of sheets and blankets hazardously scattered on your floor, the spider on the wall, your hand-sized penguin plushie that Laney got you as a joke. He can't help but cheekily smile to himself, getting a glimpse of you through the items you have, the photos you have hanging up, delaying the arachnid trapping for a moment to be selfish.

You catch him staring at a photo on your wall under your miscellaneous posters, and clear your throat.

Rafe snaps his head back to you, as if forgetting why he's here. "Right, sorry, pretty."

You reel as you watch him. Looking around for items he can use for the entrapment, Rafe settles on a discarded empty coffee cup from your trash can, kneeling forward on your bed and holding the cup underneath the spider.

The thump of your heart only gets louder as you see him nudge it with his own bare hand into the cup.

Once the spider is in it, he simply puts his palm over the top, covering it with not so much a second thought.

Rafe stands normally, tilting his head with puzzlement when he turns around to face you, wide eyed and, frankly, a little horrified.

"What?"

"Wh- You-" You splutter. "You touched it."

All he does it shrug, as if it literally means nothing. "No biggie. You have any ops on this floor? I can set him down so he crawls into their room instead."

After you escort him (from a distance) to relocate the spider outside, Rafe only deems it polite to walk you back to your room. On the way back in, he catches a glimpse of himself in the window and winces at his appearance, so the whole walk back he's been subtly trying to flatten down his unruly hair. You stifle a laugh each time he brings his hand up to mess with it more, undoubtedly making it worse.

By the time you get back to your door, it's worse than before. But he's never looked better, in your opinion.

"Um, thank you," you say sheepishly, toying with the strings of your pajama pants. "I know it's late. Or early. Whatever you wanna call it."

Rafe's smile couldn't be bigger. "I was up anyway."

You frown. "I don't think that's very good for you. You know, not sleeping."

Your tone reeks of concern, frankly a little embarrassing to express such distress for his well-being despite knowing him for only a week now.

But he barely seems fazed by it, instead shrugging. "Maybe. But then I wouldn't have answered your call, hm?"

The amused gleam in Rafe's eyes make your head fuzzy.

"I guess," you mumble. "I'll get you a coffee for your...troubles."

Rafe laughs boyishly, leaning against your doorframe as if he has all the time in the world to talk to you. "No need, pretty. I'm a certified arachnid relocator. I'm putting this shit on my resume. You honestly did me a favor," he rambles. "Needed a new job to put on there, anyway."

You can't help but roll your eyes, not really understanding how he has the energy to quip with you right now.

"Right, put it under your specialty in kickball," you tease, fighting a smile when you see his brows raise. "Will you please try and get some rest?"

"Depends," he hums, tilting his head to the side in contemplation. "Will you be at the field tomorrow?"

Ignoring the way your heart leaps, you shake your head. "Can't. All the more reason to catch up on sleep, no?"

"Are you asking me to?"

"Begging, really."

Rafe then nods, but not without trying - and failing - to suppress a stupidly large grin. "Alright, fine. For you? Anything?"

When you finally convince him to go back to his room (only the building next door), you can't help but lie awake in your spider-free bedroom, staring at the dark ceiling as your mind replays the last thirty minutes over and over.

Yeah. You're already in deep.

Rafe's been meeting you for a few weeks now, ever since the spider incident, almost every morning to talk and hang out.

A couple days a week you'll get coffee before classes to keep Rafe stable, and he discovers that you two always have something to talk about, and if there's silence it's always comfortable and natural. You often watch the sunrise in silence when it first awakens, and then carry on your normal routines when the beauty is over. 

It's so stupidly endearing to him that you let him share your moment with him.

Safe to say he's horrendously down bad...despite his overwhelming fatigue.

This morning has been exceptional rough for Rafe, because around three in the morning while he had been bored tinkering with things in his room, he suddenly remembered a paper that needs to be written before his noon class.

Of course, it's the middle of the night. He knows you're definitely asleep and there's no way he'd wake you up for something like this.

Naturally, Rafe spirals into a messy panic, standing in the middle of his room for a few moments debating on writing the paper here in his dorm or just taking all his things to the bleachers and doing it there while waiting for you. He does have a couple hours to spare, but Rafe doesn't think when he grabs his backpack, laptop, and book and runs out of his dorm.

The darkness of the night has never bothered him, not while the moon shines above him and illuminates his path. It's one of the reasons he loves nightfall so much, is because of the beauty of the moon and the light that it reflects on the earth. He wishes he could see the craters more clearly so he can soak in all of her beauty, but tonight he's in too much of a rush and panic to really think about the deep ideas of the moon.

When Rafe gets to the bleachers, he immediately opens his laptop and starts writing, whipping his book out so that he can reference quotes and cite pages while he lazily goes off his shitty outline he wrote a few nights ago about the premise of his paper. The words he hastily types come out as lethargic unpleasantries, and he really, really tries to focus to make it good, but his head keeps lulling forward and his fingers shake from fatigue.

He doesn't even care. He's a STEM student anyway, so literature isn't really at the top of his list of things to care about.

But god forbid he misses a morning with you.

So he lounges back on the bleachers, ferociously typing away everything he can and scraps together every piece of knowledge he has about the book.

And that's exactly how you find Rafe a few hours later: head tipped back with his legs stretched out, laptop discarded beside him with a black screen, light snores emitting from his mouth and his hair disheveled in every sort of direction.

And you think you're gonna melt at the sight. 

Rafe is startled awake by a loud squawking by his ear, and yelps quietly while he shoos away the crow on the fence and tries to remember where he is and what he was doing. He sees the sun...the soccer field...holy shit, where are-?

You, sitting next to him with his laptop in your lap, waiting patiently for him to wake up. You try (and fail) to suppress a grin as you notice how disheveled he is right now, who's trying to piece together what he had been doing before he passed out.

"Good morning," you greet warmly. "Sleep well?"

"What time is it?" Rafe immediately asks, mind fuzzy from the short amount of sleep. "I have class at-"

"Noon," you interrupt calmly, trying to ignore how stupidly attractive his morning voice sounds, "I was planning on waking you up in an hour or so in order for you to have enough time to get there, but your professor emailed you and the rest of your class to tell you that class was cancelled for a family emergency. So I wasn't going to wake you at all, but that crow had other plans for you. Sorry."

Rafe sits up and rubs his eyes, cracking his back and stretching from the uncomfortable position, still foggy as he looks at your pretty and yawns. "I need to...I need to finish a paper. It's about-"

"Frankenstein?" you interrupt again, looking very prideful. "Don't worry, I've read the book before so I finished it for you. I also re-wrote everything you wrote because...well...it wasn't making sense. I mean, no offense or anything. I kinda submitted it already since it was still due at noon, so..."

Letting out a breath of relief, Rafe slouches and utterly destroys his posture as he regains his ability to think coherently.

His mind catches up to the situation. You found him asleep, finished his essay for him, and waited for him to wake up so you wouldn't disturb him?

Yup. Yeah, it's official, he's smitten with you.

"I don't know how to thank you," murmurs Rafe, unknowing of what to even say, scratching the back of his neck as he peers over at you.

You simply shrug, handing the laptop and book back to Rafe (of course while grazing your fingertips together, hopefully intentionally).

"Think of it as..." You rack your brain for words. "...Me returning the favor. You know, for the spider."

His mind is mush.

All he can think about is you not thinking twice to help him out, despite his idiocy and consistently scrappy appearance. Somehow, somehow, he hasn't driven you away yet. Just when he thinks he's fucked something up, you come back.

"That was- I wanted to do that for you."

Once again, you shrug. "And I wanted to do this for you."

Rafe blinks stupidly at you, unable to form a coherent thought. What ends up coming out of his mouth is, "You wrote a paper."

"Yeah."

"For me."

"Well, I couldn't submit the garbage you came up with. No offense, or anything, but I think you confused Frankenstein with Frankenweenie."

"That's a common mistake."

You manage to crack a smile. "Is it?"

Rafe decides it's one of the prettiest things he's ever seen. "Mhm."

But, of course, he has to ruin the moment by yawning so horrendously audacious that he nearly groans in self inflicted embarrassment.

"Sorry," he winces when he comes down from it, rubbing the side of his face in exhaustion. "That's my body's involuntary response to when a pretty girl writes my papers for me."

You roll your eyes to push away your shyness, to ignore the heat flushing your cheeks.

"You really should get some rest."

Rafe yawns again. ""M not tired."

Despite the dark circles under his eyes, Rafe looks perfectly content on these bleachers, leaning back onto the row above and lounging brazenly. His head is lulled in your direction, looking up at you with those pretty blues and a half lipped smirk that seems to be permanently etched on his face whenever he's with you.

You wring the ends of your shirt, nervously biting your lip under his intense gaze.

And you're speaking before he can call you pretty again.

"Well, how about this. After you get some sleep, we can...we can get dinner? We can even do take out, or I can try and chef something up in the communal kitchen, or something..."

His mouth drops open.

You trail off, unsure of what to make of his flabbergasted expression. Is he...Is this not what you thought it was?

But Rafe is over the moon, unable to get that stupid shocked look off his face as he realizes holy shit he thinks you're asking him out? and he can't find the energy to move, he's frozen, relaying the thought over and over in his head that you, of all people, are into him.

Are you? Or is this some sort of friend-quality time thing that's going over Rafe's head because, contrary to popular belief, he's very smart when it comes to blueprints and designs and sometimes mathematics, but also very dumb when it comes to pretty girls.

Is this a direct invitation on a date or not? His tired brain doesn't know how to think strai-

"I'll take that as a no...?"

Rafe blinks his way out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice again, and he finally finds the words and mumbles out a curse word as he notices the confused guise on your pretty face.

He immediately widens his eyes.

"No, no, no-"

Your brows raise.

Rafe recoils. "Yes! Well, I mean yes, yes, I'll get dinner with you. Sorry, I just...Yes, I'd love to." 

You find it in yourself to laugh, and subtly let out a breath you've been holding for all that time Rafe had been yelling at himself in his head, debating the context of the invitation.

Blinking blearily, Rafe shakes his head, trying to figure out if he's still sleeping and he's dreaming, or if this is actually happening to him. But with the intensity of his rapid heartbeat and the way you look so vividly real and present, he deems that this is in fact not a dream, and this is happily real life.

"Good, because I don't know what I'd do if you said no," you joke, twiddling your thumbs out of nerves and letting out a low chuckle. "Probably never talk to you again."

Rafe waves you off with a proud look on his face, a wide grin, saying your name with such a saccharine tone that it makes your brain go fuzzy.

"Oh please, like I'd even think of blowing off my very own essay-writer. I may be stupid, but I am not an idiot."

This makes you laugh with that stupidly adorable smile that you can't seem to fight off that well, and Rafe takes in how beautiful you are, with your perfect grin and bright eyes that remind him of the the lightness in his chest when he finds something funny, or how your sweet voice smoothes over the ridges and hills of his heart and fills in the gaps affectionately.

(Which is painful for Rafe to endure because he loves it so much).

"You are pretty stupid," you admit quietly, timidly. "You're stupid for losing sleep over me."

Rafe closes his agape mouth at the fact that he's been caught. "Well it's worth it." Then softer, "You're worth it."

You roll your eyes and stand up, Rafe watching you do so. "You shouldn't have to accommodate your entire schedule for me. Honestly, you should go home now and sleep," you suggest earnestly, because all you want is for him to be at his best.

"Only if you'll come with."

Your heart skips a beat and you find yourself rolling your eyes once again, but this time feeling heat creep up on your neck no matter how hard you try to fight it.

It's always something about the way Rafe flirts with you so effortlessly, and how you can tell he means it. 

"Fine," you agree gently, saying it as if it was a bad thing (although your suppressed grin gives that away), "c'mon, you stupid idiot."

So, Rafe gets his things together and leaves the signature bleachers with you, this time finding the gall to slip his hand into yours, gingerly squeezing.

All this time, he wondered what it'd be like to hold your hand, and safe to say it's even better than his preconceived expectations.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work unless given permission.

notes some fluff for these hard times. hope you enjoyed!

[antiwhores]

Rough and Fragile -

Bakugou x reader

Content: rough sex (hair pulling, biting, spanking, etc), SMUT!

Bakugou has fantasies of how aggressive he’d fuck you. The only problem is that he doesn’t want to hurt you… but what if you wanted to be hurt?

——

Its really hard for Bakugou to hold back for the first few times he fucks you.

Well, “fucks you” is an incorrect way to put it. It’s slow sex. Society would call it “making love”. It’s difficult to understand. Fucking can mean making love, but it can also mean just… fucking? Making love can mean fucking but it also means it’s filled with love.

That doesn’t too much matter to him. The only thing that matters is that he doesn’t hurt you.

Bakugou is, as we all know, a strong man. You, being a regular and not physically trained individual, are delicate to him. He sees you as fragile. He doesn’t want to break the most important part of his life.

That means that he has to hold back his urges to pull your hair, slam into you rough, slap your ass, bite you, and overall leave marks on your skin. He knows that it’s fucked up that he wants to hurt you. That’s why he doesn’t. And if that’s what it takes to keep you, then he’s willing to keep himself in check for the rest of his life.

But fuck, it’s probably the hardest thing he’s ever done.

He grits his teeth as he carefully moves his hips to connect with your pussy. His strokes are calculated, careful not to scare you but not careful enough to make it seem like he’s holding back.

It’s been a particularly hard day for him. His day off alined with yours so he got to wake up next to you. It was hard to leave you to go indulge in his morning workout. He had gotten back anxious to touch you. Busy schedules made sex impossible.

Due to his terrible luck, you were gone when he got back. He now remembers that you had to go grab some groceries with your spare time. You could’ve at least took him with you!

The day was full of turns of events. He waited for you to come back but eventually got bored. He took a quick walk around the neighborhood and when he got back you were in the shower. Just before you got out, he got a call from his agency reminding him of his schedule tomorrow. He got off the phone fifteen minutes later and immediately rushed to the bedroom to see you. You were in the bed snoring. He sighed and went to take a shower too since he was caked in sweat from his work out. He got out thirty minutes later to an empty bed. Turns out you had gone to get some soil for the plants.

When you two finally saw each other, it didn’t take long before you were below him.

He catches himself gripping you too hard due to a squeeze of your walls. He had to slow down, taking deep breaths in hopes to calm himself.

Unfortunately, today had him pent up to where he was loosing control.

He didn’t even notice when his hand had gripped your hair and pulled. He buried his face into your neck and started to speed up. He grabbed your hips and let off little pops from his palms. The smell of you distracted him from his vows. He was climbing his high better than ever before.

He finally snapped out of it when he felt your hands scrape his back. He stilled, his heart dropping.

It was over. Now you’d be scared of him and never talk to him again. His awful fantasies will drive you to move on to a guy that doesn’t want to hurt you while fucking you hard.

He hesitated while trying to find the proper words to apologize. You spoke first.

“What’s wrong?”

He was stunned. You weren’t freaked out?

“I just…”

He grit his teeth at his voice. He sounded desperate, whiny.

“Why’d you stop? Did I do something?”

The anxious look on your face wasn’t directed towards him, but to yourself. You had thought that you hadn’t reacted good enough. Were you not supposed to moan as loud as you did? Were you even supposed to like it?

“What? No. I just-“

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird-“

“You weren’t weird! It’s my fault. I just lost control.”

Your face fixed into a puzzled expression.

“What?”

He sighed.

“I want to hurt you. I want to fuck you rough, handle you rough. I don’t know why. I just want to ruin your hair and make marks all over your body. I’ve been holding back because I don’t want to see you in more pain than pleasure. I promise to never do it again if you give me another chance. I’m sorry, y/n.”

He was prepared for you to push him off. He looked for the inevitable terrified expression. A wince left him when you removed your hands for his shoulders.

He wasn’t expecting you to cup his face in your palms. You gently kiss his nose, your fingers trailing to glide down his abdomen.

“What if I want to be hurt?”

He doesn’t much remember what happened after that. He figures that he pounced on you, fucking you as rough as he’d dreamed of.

Your moans were louder than ever before. You were restrained by your wrists with his right hand. The other one pulled brutally at your hair. His cock abused your hole, ensuring you’d have a hard time walking tomorrow.

Every thrust had him gritting his teeth whilst your eyes fluttered. He unrestrained your hands while his travelled down to your ass, giving it a good slap. You moaned in confirmation so he slapped you again, this time adding some sparks.

Your nails dragged against his skin, surely leaving red marks. He’s never felt better, you agreed completely. You begged for him as you felt your high approaching. He felt his too, getting rougher by the second.

You let out a drawn out whine as you came, fingers pulling at his hair. The tightness of your orgasm against his cock immediately hit him with his own. He was attacked so suddenly that he had to bite into your shoulder to cope with the intense pleasure. A groan came from deep inside his chest as he filled your hole with cum.

His shaking stopped just after yours. He let the tension go when you relaxed. He felt the taste of iron in his mouth from the bite. Licking his lips with a smirk, he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Too rough for ya?”

You looked up at him with stars in your eyes.

“I can take whatever you give me and you know it!”

You weren’t the fragile girl he thought you were.

[applecour]

૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა i’m gonna be late, pipsqueak!

or… caleb can’t say no to his wifey. // suggestive drabble, the uniform stays on!!!, pipsqueak usage idc, breeding kink!

people would be shocked to see the current state of the farspace fleet’s legendary colonel.

he has always been the type to stick to a strict schedule— sleep at 00, wake up at 6:10 am, do his morning necessities like cook breakfast and workout, then shower and get ready to head to work by 7:30. but lately, his timing has been a bit off and there’s only one person to blame… you!

“pipsqueak,” he whispers, kissing your forehead and slightly nudging your sleeping form, “breakfast is in the fridge, don’t sleep in too long, ‘kay?”

you nod, yawning and muttering “aren’t you forgetting something, colonel?” as you sit up and pucker your lips, waiting for him to indulge you. he knows this is a trap, all apart of your plan, but he can’t say it doesn’t work.

he leans down to softly kiss your plump lips when you wrap your arms around his neck and roughly pull him back onto the bed. you lick his lips messily and pull on the ends of his hair shamelessly until he reciprocates the intensity of your kiss— your lips meld against his and when you part, a string of saliva is the only thing still connecting you to him.

“such a needy little wife i have, hm?” he says, his gloved thumb grazing your bottom lip. “was last night not enough to satisfy my pip?”

“can’t help it, colonel,” you reply with very intentional puppy eyes, your hand trailing down his stomach lower and lower until you reach his belt buckle. “i already feel so empty at the thought of you leaving…”

he laughs, “you want me to fill you up? now? i’m a very busy man, you know. i can’t spend all the time in the world pleasing you…”

“but… then again, i can’t seem to say no my darling wife, can i?”

“in that case…” you begin, biting your lip and clenching your thighs, “you should be a considerate husband and give me your babies, colonel.”

his lip twitches at your words, setting his hat on your nightstand and taking another glance at his wristwatch, “ah well, being late once in a while isn’t that big of a deal, is it…?”

[malusokay]

when sad days hit 𓂃⋆.˚

sometimes, when life feels heavy, it’s hard to figure out what to do with yourself. here’s a little list of things that help me feel more grounded on days when everything seems off:

clear your schedule as much as you can. make time for yourself, to breathe, distract yourself, and focus on what brings you a little joy.

step outside for a bit. even if it’s just walking to the store to grab a snack. If going for a walk feels pointless, having a tiny mission (like buying chocolate or gum) can make it feel more doable.

call a friend. if calling feels like too much, text someone you trust. even a small connection can help break the mental loop.

stay warm. I swear, being cold makes everything worse.

try to pinpoint why you’re sad. if there’s no clear reason, that’s okay too, don’t overthink it. sometimes feelings just exist, and that’s okay.

move your body. you don’t have to hit the gym if that feels like too much. a YouTube workout, some yoga, or even just stretching can release some of the tension.

take a shower. clean hair = clean mind. I don’t know why, but when my hair feels dirty, I feel awful.

chill with the caffeine. too much coffee makes me more restless and anxious, so try to swap it for tea or water when you're already feeling down.

get off your phone. do something creative instead, make a collage, bake cookies, experiment with makeup. it’s a nice way to focus on something tactile and rewarding.

find cosy productivity. when I don’t feel like talking to people, I stay home and study or work on small projects. being cosy but productive is satisfying and keeps my mind busy.

keep track of your meals. I lose my appetite when I’m feeling down, so setting reminders to eat something makes a big difference.

sleep, sleep, sleep. honestly, sleep fixes more than you’d think. Give yourself permission to rest.

be gentle with yourself, and remember, it’s okay to take things one tiny step at a time. you’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough. <3

my insta -> @ malusokay

[lupinqs]

SANTA BABY ━━ wnba!paige bueckers x reader

𝜗𝜚 ━ summary: during your christmas trip to NYC, you have a surprise waiting for paige back at the hotel.

𝜗𝜚 ━ word count: 4.9K

𝜗𝜚 ━ warnings: sexual content (munch p, scissoring)

𝜗𝜚 ━ links: my masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ━ author’s note: my christmas eve gift to y’all …. it was almost taken away tho because of that usc game ask the gc man i was crashing out

THE CITY is buzzing even at this hour, cold wind cutting through the streets as Paige makes her way back to the hotel. She tugs her coat tighter around herself, her hands jammed into her pockets to ward off the sting of the December chill. New York City is magical this time of year, but it’s also freezing, and she can’t wait to get back to the suite, where it’s warm—and more importantly, where you are.

This trip has been a mix of business and pleasure. She had a couple of sponsorship obligations to knock out and a media appearance scheduled for tomorrow, but mostly, it’s just an excuse to spend a few uninterrupted days with you. Both of your schedules have been so hectic lately—hers with the grind of off-season and the stress of Unrivaled about to start, and yours with work—and carving out this time feels like a luxury. It’s the last weekend before Christmas, and since you’re both gonna be spending the holiday with your families together, this is your time to celebrate just the two of you.

Paige hurries into the hotel, rubbing her hands together as she steps into the elevator. She flexes her fingers, still stiff from gripping a basketball for hours during her workout with Stewie and Sabrina. She promised you that she wouldn’t let it run late, and, as she glances at her phone to see the time, she’s satisfied that she fulfilled it.

Her sneakers hit the polished floor with soft thuds as she unlocks the door to the suite. The space is lavish, the kind of indulgence she spent because one, it’s the holidays, and two, she wanted this weekend to be perfect for the two of you. The warmth of the suite embraces her immediately, the city’s chill feeling miles away here. She shrugs off her coat, tossing it over the couch, and kicks off her sneakers.

“Baby, I’m back!” she calls, her voice echoing faintly in the spacious suite. When she came in, she assumed that you’d be in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and whatever Netflix show you’ve been binge-watching. But the living room is empty, the TV off.

Her brows furrow as she looks around, scanning for signs of you. “You in the bedroom?” she calls out, though there’s still no answer. Her pulse picks up, not in worry, but in curiosity. She hums, wondering where you’re hiding.

The hallway feels quiet as she moves down it, pushing open the door to the bedroom. The sight that greets her makes her stop dead in her tracks, feet planted in the doorway.

The lights are dim, the warm glow casting a soft, golden hue across the room. A bottle of wine sits on the nightstand, one glass already poured and in your hand. But it’s you that holds her attention, that makes her brain short-circuit entirely.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a smirk that could stop traffic. And you’re wearing—Paige feels her throat go dry—this tiny, ridiculously sexy Christmas lingerie set. The red satin clings to you in all the right places, barely covering what it’s meant to, and the white fur trim is so playful, so sinful, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. The ribbon on the front of your bra is tied in a neat little bow, teasingly undone just enough to look like you’d barely bothered. The matching panties sit high on your hips, connected to sheer thigh-high stockings by the tiniest garters she’s ever seen.

She doesn’t even realize she’s standing completely still until you grin at her, your voice playful and sweet as you say, “Hi, baby.”

Paige blinks, her brain struggling to catch up as she stares at you. Her heart is pounding, adrenaline giving way to something much more visceral. The way you’re looking at her, the way the light catches the curve of your body—it’s like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again. She lets out a low, shaky breath, her hand running through her hair as her eyes continue to rove over your figure. Her stomach constricts, her whole body coiled so tight she’s not sure if she wants to drop to her knees or throw herself at you. Maybe both.

“Fuck, ma,” she finally manages, her voice low and husky as she steps forward. Her hands flex instinctively, wanting to touch you, needing to touch you. “You tryna kill me?”

You giggle, the sound light and sweet, but the glint in your eyes is anything but innocent. “No,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you take a slow sip from your wine glass. Your smirk widens, and Paige swears her knees almost buckle.

She exhales sharply, inching closer to the bed. “You look…” Her voice trails off, her gaze roaming over you like she’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. “Jesus, baby, you look insane.”

You’re still grinning as she reaches the edge of the bed, her hands resting on the mattress as she leans down slightly, bringing her face level with yours. Her pulse races, her body buzzing with anticipation as her eyes lock with yours. “You did this for me?” she asks softly, though she already knows the answer.

“Who else?” you ask, grinning, your voice a teasing lilt that makes Paige’s chest tighten. You set your wine glass down on the nightstand, your eyes never leaving hers.

Paige is already leaning forward, her hands sliding to your thighs, the warmth of your skin and the delicate fabric of your lingerie making her head spin. “You’re gon’ be the death of me,” she murmurs, shaking her head a little as her lips brush against yours lightly, hands tightening on your legs. And God, if this is how she goes, she’ll thank you for it.

Her lips finally lock onto yours, slow at first, like she’s savoring the moment. The kiss is soft, tender, but there’s an edge to it—like she’s holding herself back, barely. Her hands tighten on your thighs, sliding higher, the heat of your skin burning through the thin satin, and she swears she feels you shiver beneath her touch.

You kiss her back, your arms looping around her neck to pull her closer, and that’s all the invitation Paige needs. She shifts, climbing onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress as she presses herself against you. The warmth of your body sends a rush of heat through her, and she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours as she loses herself in the taste of you.

“You’re fuckin’ unreal,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning. Her lips leave yours only to trail down your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

Her hands roam as her mouth works. One slides up to cup the back of your neck, her thumb brushing over your jaw to tilt your head just the way she likes. The other settles firmly on your hip, her grip strong enough to keep you exactly where she wants you, though her fingers twitch like she’s desperate to touch you everywhere at once.

The scent of you—the faint lotion you always wear, mixed with the wine you’ve been drinking—fills her senses, and Paige feels drunk on it, drunk on you. Her lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, and when she hears the soft, breathy sound you make in response, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through her.

“Damn,” she mutters, her teeth grazing your skin lightly before she soothes the spot with her tongue.

Your hands tug at the hem of her long-sleeve shirt, and she sits back just enough to let you pull it over her head. You toss it somewhere behind her, leaving her in her sports bra. Her abs flex slightly in the cool air, but the way your eyes roam over her makes her feel anything but cold. She watches you, her chest heaving, her pupils blown wide as you reach out to touch her, your hands sliding over her shoulders and down her torso, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

And then she’s diving back in, her kisses lower now, lips finding the delicate line of your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses there like she’s starving for you—which, she is. Her tongue darts out to taste your skin, her teeth scraping against you enough to leave you shivering. She feels your fingers tangle in her hair, undoing her ponytail as you pull her closer. Her breath quickens slightly, chest heaving with just how much she wants you.

Her fingers find the ribbon on your bra, tugging at it gently as her lips brush over the swell of your cleavage. “This,” she mutters, her voice muffled against your skin, “is fucking killin’ me.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over the satin. “You tied it so pretty for me, huh? Knowing I’d lose my damn mind?”

You laugh softly, breathily, fingers tangling further in her hair. “Maybe.”

“Slut,” Paige mutters, grinning as she tugs the bow loose with one sharp pull, letting the fabric fall open, your perky tits popping out of it. Her breath catches as she sees you fully now, blue eyes darkening with something heavy, something primal.

“Goddamn, mama,” she breathes, her hands sliding along your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs. She leans down again, her lips brushing against the curve of your breast. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy, so perfect, baby. It ain’t even fair.”

And then her mouth closes around your nipple, her tongue swirling over the sensitive skin as she sucks gently, and the sound you make in response sends a jolt straight through her. She groans softly, her free hand sliding up to cup your other breast. She alternates between kisses and soft bites, her lips tugging gently at your nipple before soothing the spot with her tongue. Her breath is hot against your skin, and she presses closer, hips grinding against yours just a little as her mouth moves.

“Such perfect tits,” she murmurs against your cleavage, her teeth grazing you again as she switches to your other breast.

She licks a slow, careful path across your skin, savoring every inch of you as she begins to lower once more. Her mouth leaves a wet trail down your stomach, her tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the faint salt on your skin. Her hands slide down from your chest, settling on your waist. She grips the skin hard, pinching slightly. Her lips brush over the curve of your belly, then down to the soft plane just above your hips, like she’s mapping every part of you with her tongue.

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to lift her head and admire the way the red lace hugs your skin. The fabric is delicate, so inviting, it’s like it was made to drive her insane. The sheer material leaves almost nothing to her imagination, and the sight of it—of you and your perfect pussy—sends a rush of wetness to her own core.

She just shakes her head a little, as if in disbelief, before lowering again, her lips grazing the edge of the lace as her fingers grip your hips tighter. She can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body tenses slightly beneath her, the way you say her name, and it makes her head spin.

Her tongue flicks out, tracing the edge of the fabric, teasing. She presses a kiss just below your navel, then another, breath warm. “You got any idea what you’re doin’ to me, baby?” she asks slowly.

You don’t even get the opportunity to answer before her teeth catch the edge of your panties lightly, tugging just enough to make you gasp. And then she lets it snap back into place with a soft, playful grin. She glances up at you, eyes dark and blazing, blonde hair falling into her face as she leans closer again. The way you look back at her—pupils wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed—spurs her on.

Her lips hover just above the lace, and she kisses you there, slow and careful, her mouth pressing over the thin barrier like she can’t stand not to be closer. “So pretty,” she murmurs against you, her fingers brushing over the lace now, testing the material as her tongue flicks out once more, tasting you even through the fabric.

Her big hands slide from your waist to your thighs, spreading them just enough to give her room to work. Her teeth catch the edge of the waistband, tugging gently, and she groans low in her throat as the fabric gives way slightly under her pull.

“Fuck,” Paige mutters, and it’s muffled as she grips the lace between her teeth. She pauses just long enough for you to whimper, “Paige,” before she tugs again, this time pulling the panties down your hips with deliberate slowness.

She moves inch by inch, her teeth grading the lace lower, and she’s completely transfixed. The garters make her work for it, the straps pulling taut against the tension, but she doesn’t mind—if anything, it drives her wilder. Her lips slide along your skin as she works, kissing the sensitive spots where the panties leave a faint imprint.

As she reaches your thighs, Paige shifts, letting the fabric slide past her lips and catching it with her fingers instead. She tugs it the rest of the way down with her teeth again, dragging it along the curve of your legs, her mouth brushing your inner thighs as she goes.

When the panties finally slip off completely, Paige lets them drop from her teeth to the floor, her breath shallow as she grips your thighs, holding them apart. Her eyes rake over every inch of you—the way your face has gone bright pink in a flush, the way your tits peek from the opened lingerie top, the way your cunt is absolutely glistening for her.

She licks her lips slowly, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk as her gaze flicks back up to your face. “Shit, mama,” she says lowly. “Look at you. Fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Paige doesn’t waste any more time. She slides down on her elbows, lowering herself between your legs, her mouth attaching to your clit with an intensity that makes you cry out. She sucks and licks with fervor, her tongue working you over with a skill that leaves both of your lungs aching, Paige’s face buried so deep in your folds she has to fight for air. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and desperation that has you writhing beneath her, hips bucking.

“Babe… mmm, shit,” you whimper, voice trembling as you reach down to grasp at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort to hold on. You can barely keep your eyes open, pleasure so intense it’s nearly blinding. “Please, fuck, don’t stop.”

Paige has no intentions of stopping. She moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you in place firmly as she devours you like a woman starved. Her tongue moves expertly, flicking and swirling across your clit before laying it flat, shaking her head from side to side messily, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, ma, you taste so good,” Paige groans, pulling away just long enough to let a glob of her spit land on your cunt. She leans back in, lapping it up, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Could eat you out all night, baby…”

Your back arches off the bed at Paige’s words, causing the lingerie top to slide down your shoulders a little more. Your hips buck involuntarily as you chase the pleasure Paige gives you, one of your hands coming up to knead your own tit, mouth dropping open at the way Paige’s tongue slides along your wetness effortlessly. You’re desperate, every nerve ending in your body tingling with need. “Paige, baby, ‘M so close,” you choke out.

Paige only intensifies her efforts, her tongue flicking against your clit faster, her mouth working you over with an urgency that has you teetering on the edge. She’s relentless, giving you exactly what you need, pushing you closer and closer until you’re trembling, your thighs quivering around her head.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Paige pulls back slightly, her mouth leaving your clit. You let out a desperate whine at the loss, body screaming for more, but Paige is already moving. She slides two fingers inside you without warning, thrusting them in deep, hard, and fast. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, hands flying to Paige’s shoulders as you cling to her, body trembling with the force of Paige’s thrusts.

“Mmm, mama,” the blonde breathes out lowly as she pumps her fingers into your cunt with a brutal pace, the slick sound of her digits moving in and out echoing in the otherwise quiet hotel room. “So fucking tight, so wet for me. Shit, baby.”

She glances up, gaze on you as your head falls back against the pillows, your eyes squeezing shut as you let out a strangled moan, hips moving to meet Paige’s thrusts. She feels a rush of wetness flood her own boxers and picks up the pace even more, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you, a white-hot fire that consumes you from the inside you. “Paige, oh my God… holy shit…”

Paige leans in close, biting lightly at your inner thigh as she whispers, “Think you can take three, baby?”

She watches as your eyes fly open at the question, brows furrowing as you nod frantically. “Yes. Yeah, do it,” you force out breathlessly. “Please, P.”

Paige smirks at your reaction, but doesn’t need to be told twice. She pulls her fingers out briefly, adding a third finger before thrusting back inside, her movements deliberate and rough, stretching you out. Your hips buck up to meet Paige hand, chasing the pleasure. Paige scissors her fingers inside you, making you choke a little on your own whimper, nails digging into her skin, gripping the strap of her sports bra.

“Such a—God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” Paige groans, eyes locked onto your face, watching every single expression of pleasure that crosses your features. “Wearing that lingerie, knowing I’d lose my goddamn mind. Shit.”

Your entire body is one fire, senses overwhelmed by the combination of the relentless pace of Paige’s thrusts and the dirtiness that coats her words. You can feel every inch of Paige’s fingers inside you, can feel the way they stretch you, the way they hit that perfect spongy spot deep inside that makes you see stars. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum. God, I’m—” You cut yourself off with a loud moan.

Paige leans forward, her mouth finding your clit again, tongue swirling slick circles over the sensitive nub as she continues to thrust her long fingers in and out, faster and harder, pushing you to the brink. “Shit, ma, do it,” she urges roughly, humming against you as she laps at your pussy. “Cum for me. Cum all fucking over me, mama.”

That’s all you need to hear. With a strangled cry, your entire body tenses, back arching off the bed as you come hard, walls clenching around Paige’s fingers, gushing against her face. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Paige keeps thrusting her fingers, lapping at your wetness lazily, riding out your orgasm with you. She prolongs the pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, panting mess beneath her. When your body finally goes limp, Paige slowly withdraws her fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your trembling thighs.

And then she starts crawling back up your body, her lips trailing over the lingering marks she’d left along her descent. Your eyes meet, a shared intensity overtaking the laziness you were just feeling, Paige’s lips finding you’re once more in a searing, desperate kiss. It’s messy and heated, tongues tangling, hands grasping and pulling at each other. You can taste yourself on Paige’s lips and it only makes you kiss her harder.

You let Paige flip your positions with her strength, your thighs now straddling Paige’s waist. She groans a little against your mouth as her hands find your bare ass, fingers digging into the skin and kneading it, your bodies pressing together.

“Ma,” Paige breathes out when you pull away slightly, sliding her sports bra up and over her head. Her hands reach down for her sweatpants and you help her yank them—and her boxers beneath—down in one swift motion. Paige’s hips lift off the bed, and the two of you finally rid of the barrier. You toss the clothing aside without a second thought.

Paige’s lips curl into a smirk as her eyes lock with yours again, pulling you closer with her hands on your ass, bodies flush against each other. “C’mon,” she murmurs thickly.

Your breath hitches at the feel of Paige’s hands on your hips, guiding you to align your cunts together. The sensation is sinful, and you can’t suppress the moan that escapes your lips as you feel the heat and slickness of Paige’s wetness against your own.

“That’s it, mama,” the blonde encourages, sending a shiver down your spine. “Ride me, grind on me. Lemme feel you.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You start moving your hips in slow, careful circles, your slick pussy sliding against Paige’s with every movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and your head falls back as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure, hands gripping Paige’s shoulders for support.

Paige’s eyes are glued to you, tracking every move, every expression. She’s mesmerized by the way your face contorts with pleasure, your mouth falling open slightly as your hips move with increasing urgency. Paige’s hands tighten on your hips, helping to guide your movements, pushing you down harder against her own aching cunt.

“Shit,” Paige groans, blue eyes flitting between your flushed face, the way your tits bounce slightly with every thrust of your hips, and where your pussy grinds against hers. “You look so fuckin’ hot riding me like this.”

You whimper at Paige’s words, pace quickening as the heat between you builds to an almost unbearable level. The friction of your clits rubbing together is enough to make you lose control, unable to hold back the desperate sounds that escape your lips.

“You like that, baby?” Paige rasps, voice dripping with lust as she watches you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You like grinding that pretty pussy against me, yeah?”

Your only response is a choked moan, body trembling as you lean forward, hands sliding up to grip the headboard for support. The new angle allows you to press down even harder against Paige, and it sends shockwaves through both of your bodies.

Paige’s eyes roll back in her head at the increased pressure, her own hips bucking up to meet the roll of yours. She’s completely entranced by the sight of you riding her, chest heaving as she helps you, gripping your ass and pulling you quicker against her.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groans roughly.

You whimper at her words, body moving faster, more desperate, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. You’re both so close, bodies trembling with the effort to keep going, to chase the high that you both desperately need.

“Paige,” you gasp, breathless and needy. “I’m almost there.”

Paige’s grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as she urges you on. “That’s it,” she encourages, your folds so slick against hers. “Cum for me again. Need it right fuckin’ now.”

You cry out, your entire body tensing as you reach your peak, hips grinding down hard against Paige as you finish with a shuddering moan. The pleasure washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless as you ride out your orgasm.

Paige isn’t far behind, the sight of you coming undone above her enough to push her over the edge. Her own orgasm hits her hard, her hips jerking up as she lets out a low, guttural moan, her fingers digging into your ass and hips as she rides it out.

You collapse onto her, your body melting into hers, every muscle in you soft and spent. Her skin is warm beneath yours, slick with the same thin sheen of sweat that glistens on your back. Paige’s chest rises and falls erratically under your cheek, her breath heavy and labored, matching your own. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pounds faintly against your ear, grounding you.

Her arms come around you almost instinctively, wrapping you in a hold that’s firm yet gentle, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other lazily circling between your shoulder blades. Her fingers drag lightly over your skin, soothing and possessive at once, as though she’s trying to memorize every inch of you. She shifts slightly beneath you, her body fitting against yours with an intimacy that feels effortless, as though this is where you’re meant to be.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft, uneven breaths you’re both still trying to catch. Paige’s head tilts back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets the tension drain from her body, your weight on top of her a comfort she never realized she needed so much.

And then, with a low, raspy chuckle that vibrates through her chest, Paige breaks the silence. “Damn.”

The single word, said with so much raw awe and disbelief, makes you laugh. The sound is quiet, breathy, but it shakes through you, your shoulders trembling lightly against her. Paige feels the warmth of your laugh against her neck, and a lazy smile spreads across her face, her lips curving up in a way that makes her look soft, completely undone.

Her hand moves from your back, trailing slowly upward, the tips of her fingers grazing your spine before they find your jaw. She cradles it gently, guiding your face upward so your eyes meet hers. There’s something so special in the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that exists in her world right now. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and then she’s leaning in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and lingering, deep and unhurried.

She hums softly into it, the sound vibrating against your mouth, and when she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is low and rough. “Did so perfect for me,” she murmurs, her eyes scanning your face as if committing it to memory.

Your lips curve into a small, sleepy smile, and you let your head rest against her shoulder once more. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

Paige’s arms tighten around you in response, her fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your shoulder. She doesn’t say it back immediately, but the way she holds you—the way her lips press a gentle kiss to your temple—says it louder than words ever could.

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the moment settling around you like a warm, comforting blanket. Paige’s breathing steadies, her chest rising and falling beneath you in a rhythm that feels calming, almost hypnotic. When she finally moves, it’s only to reach for the nightstand, her fingers curling around the bottle of wine that’s been sitting there, untouched until now.

She pours herself a glass first, then grabs yours, her hand steady as she offers it. “Here,” she says softly, her voice still husky.

You take the glass from her with a small smile, your fingers brushing hers, and Paige feels that familiar spark, that electric current that always seems to buzz between you. She watches you as you take a sip, the way your lips curl around the rim of the glass, the way your eyes meet hers over the edge of it.

After a few minutes, Paige sets her empty glass aside and leans over the edge of the bed, her hand brushing against the discarded lingerie top. She picks it up, holding it up in the dim light, letting it dangle from her fingers as she turns back to you with a lazy grin. “This,” she says, her tone playful but still thick with awe, “was crazy.”

You smile at her, wide and teasing, your head tilting slightly as you reply, “You loved it.”

Paige laughs softly, shaking her head as she leans down to kiss you again, her lips lingering against yours as she murmurs, “Course I did.” Her voice is warm, sincere, and when she pulls back, the grin on her face is so full of love it makes your chest tighten.

The two of you settle back into the bed, the wine forgotten on the nightstand as Paige tucks you against her side, her arm draped over your waist. The city hums softly in the background, but all Paige can hear is the quiet sound of your breathing, the steady rhythm of your heart against hers. And in this moment, with you curled against her, Paige thinks there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be.

[healthzenith]

Best Fitness Apps to Keep You Motivated: Achieve Your Fitness Goals with Technology

Staying motivated on a fitness journey can be challenging. With so many distractions and obligations, it’s easy to lose sight of your goals. However, fitness apps can offer a powerful solution by providing structure, guidance, and encouragement right at your fingertips. Whether you’re aiming to build muscle, improve your cardiovascular health, or simply stay active, the right app can help keep…

[jjjjisun]

Little Sister, Big Secret

Miyeon X Male OC | 10745 words

TW: Incest

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Author’s Note: Thanks for the patronage. Jae is the official reader name from now on. I know some of you are disappointed with this change, and I apologize. There are stories that I want to explore from a third person’s perspective, and using a real name instead of Y/N seems to be a better direction.

 This might be the last fic for my series of quick releases this past week. I will still be releasing incest fics, but it might take once or twice every two weeks. The first part of the ex-IZONE Minju fic will be released early in Ko-Fi this Thursday.

—

Jae rarely saw his sister Miyeon anymore. Between their going to school in separate cities and busy schedules when they were home in the summer, it was rare if they spent more than an hour in each other's company. He still always loved seeing her, though she and he both were changing as they followed their own paths. And, every time he saw her, it reminded him that she was a stunner. As they went through school, Jae knew she would be a beauty when she got prettier and prettier each year. However, it seemed that she never stopped; her breasts got bigger and bigger until they looked like they could fill Jae's hand and then some, or so he imagined. Her face was adorable, with a beautiful smile and that sexy way she bit her lip when she did something naughty. And her body...her workouts kept it so slender at the waist and yet her butt a spank-able little cushion. Topped off with her soft, brown hair flowing down to her shoulders, she was a picture of perfection.

It didn't matter, though, for all the torture he had to endure when she let her robe slip open as she lounged on the couch, revealing her bra and her taut stomach-- she was still his sister. He'd put up with the suggestive comment or two from guys at school and maybe stolen a peak at her cup size when she left a lacy number in the drier (it was 30C), but other than that, their interactions were mostly innocent. When they went to school, they drifted a bit further apart, but of course, whenever she came home, she seemed to have gotten hotter, more tan, better legs, etc.

It was a Friday afternoon, and Jae had gotten out of class early, so he decided to drive back home and drop in on his mom and dad for the weekend. He could use a break from the action at school. So, a few hours later he was pulling into his driveway. He arrived just as the mailman offered to bring the mail himself. He grabbed it and walked up to the front door, flipping through it as he climbed the steps to the front door. Something caught his eye, a manila envelope with a letterhead he recognized. Embarrassingly enough, after thinking about it for a few seconds, he placed it as a porn company he'd seen on one of those video streaming sites.

'What's this?' He thought to himself and paused at the front door.

Thinking quickly, he decided that whatever it was, his parents probably shouldn't be seeing it anyway, so he slipped it into his duffel and rang the doorbell. After exchanging hellos and sitting with his dad before he headed back to work, Jae headed upstairs to his room. The envelope in his bag had nagged at him while sitting with his dad and he intended to find out what it was about. He had only glanced at the envelope before stuffing it away, and looking at it now, he noticed that it was addressed to his sister. His heart spiked a bit at that. What the hell would a porn company want with Miyeon?

Ripping it open, he reached for a letter and a DVD. He'd have read the letter, but the DVD cover grabbed his attention for obvious reasons. It was a porno called "School's Out" with a beautiful young girl on the cover, but not just any beautiful girl, his sister. His jaw practically hit the floor. She was posing on the cover in a sexy schoolgirl outfit with the naughty look on her face that Jae had come to know so well. The caption beside her read that it was her first scene, and Jae was again speechless. The back had a few more pictures of her and other girls in the film, but nothing displaying what her part in the film was.

He walked over toward his bag to retrieve his laptop and sat down, waiting for it to power up before he took it in. His sister... in a porno... the very one he held in his hand? She looked so cute on the front cover, so innocent and yet so goddamn hot. How the hell had she become a pornstar? From what he knew, she was still in school and doing well.

'My God, porn?' He thought to himself.

In his haste he failed to even think that this was his sister he was about to see on his screen if he put that disc into his laptop. And not only that; she was going to be...presumably having sex with some random dude with a big dick. Christ, he hadn't even seen her naked in full before, and he was about to see a lot more than that. He hesitated as he stared at his desktop for a few seconds. Should he watch it...? Wow, it was like his dreams were coming true and he was simultaneously waking up.

'Maybe just a minute, to see if it's really true,' He rationalized as he slipped it into the drive and pulled up the menu.

The first scene wasn't her, or the second. It was as he suspected, the same type of story line he'd seen played out in plenty of scenes before. When his sister came on to the screen, it was a third shock in only a few minutes. She was wearing her sexy little school girl outfit with her breasts pushed up and short miniskirt cutting off close below her bubbly behind. She had a pierced belly button (man, did he love that on girls) and a touch of makeup. He watched in disbelief as she went through the motions with some guy, setting up the story of a sexy student trying to talk her way out of trouble. He had to admit, she was an adorable actress, and he found himself projecting himself into the role of the man being seduced by his student.

That was until she reached for the guy's belt buckle. He realized she really was going to sleep with the guy, and Jae covered his eyes with his hand. He couldn't watch this, could he? He peeked between his fingers and saw the guy reaching for his sister's breast. As he grasped it for a second, Jae found himself becoming angry with the actor for touching his sister that way. In a few more seconds, she had worked the guy's pants open and was holding his semi-erect penis. He wasn't all that much larger than Jae, he thought to himself happily.

And then the man worked Miyeon's breast out of its cotton sling, and he saw her nipple for the first time. It was utterly suckable, a big nub with a relatively tiny areola that his mouth watered at the sight of. She then started stroking his penis up and down in her tiny hand and kissing him in a way that he wished deeply to feel himself. Feeling his own cock begin to harden, a pang of guilt struck him for desiring his sister so.

He battled inwardly as the video played out, and his sister started to disrobe, and he decided to just click through. It wasn't as if he intended to see it, but the first click of the mouse brought him to a frame of his sister on her knees with a cock deep in her mouth. Even for the second he lingered he could see the side profile of his little sister and her rocking body. Bent at the knee as she was, he loved how the pads of her feet stretched to stabilize her, and her curves led from her toned legs to her taut, arched back. Oh no, he thought as she swallowed the cock a few times, and he averted his eyes. He haphazardly clicked forward into the video, and this time she wasn't on her knees but laid out on the bed with her pussy, which looked taut as hell, swallowing the man's shaft into her tiny frame. Piercing her over and over, the guy shoved himself into Miyeon, and Jae felt himself becoming angry, or was it jealous... either way, a few more times of watching his sister's quim stretch to accept the invading member, and he slammed his screen down, unable to watch it any further.

Her soft pants of pleasure rang in his ears, and it was as if he could see her wiggling beneath him as he shoved into her. His cock was completely stiff. He was reeling from what he just saw. Firstly, because he had just watched his little sister, the one who he'd walked with to school when they were little, wrestle in the backyard, do some different kind of wrestling altogether. Secondly, he could not believe how unbelievably attractive she was and how badly he wanted to be in the unnamed man's place. He felt all at once shocked about his relationship with the young girl he was just watching be fucked, and strange that he'd felt lust for her. After all, that's what she was there for, wasn't it? To be an icon for his desires, to arouse him enough to pleasure himself while watching her. Oh Lord, how would he face her now, knowing what he knew?

A sound woke him from his daze, and he got up to see who was making it. Looking over the railing as he left his room, he saw her standing in the doorway and shutting it behind her. It looked like he'd be facing her even sooner than he expected.

"Oppa!" she screamed as she dropped her things.

Bounding up the stairs, Miyeon's breasts bounced in her shirt, a deep v-neck sweater showing off plenty of them. The shirt was cut short of her belly button, and he could see the piercing that gleamed on her beautiful stomach. Below that, she had a set of distressed-looking low-rider jeans that could have been painted on for how tightly they held her beautiful legs. She practically jumped into his arms, and he prayed that she didn't feel his already stiffening erection.

With her body pressed up against his and her breasts, her soft, full breasts, mashed between them, Jae resigned himself to the fact that he'd never look at Miyeon the same again. Instead, he just wrapped her in his arms, returning the hug. Feeling her body against his, the warmth of it and the swell of her breasts resurrected the war between his brain and dick. She pushed off of him and looked at Jae deep in the eyes, a questioning look on her face. It was the same adorable face he remembered, and it caused him to snap out of his stupor and realize he'd not said a word to her yet.

"It's so good to see you, baby, sis. I didn't know you were coming home!" Jae managed.

One of his hands came to rest on the exposed portion of her back, warm and smooth. He thought about how it would feel to grab onto her there and about seeing that guy holding onto her waist as he plunged that big thing of his into Jae's little sister.

"Well, Jenna told me you were coming home, and I decided that I had some free time this weekend, so I'd join you. Are you happy to see me?"

Jenna was Miyeon's best friend in high school and now attended the same college as Jae. She was a year younger than him and almost as sexy as Jae's little sister was; he'd seen her walking home from class and mentioned he was going home for the weekend. Man, news travels fast, he thought to himself.

"Of course I'm happy to see you. This house can always use a little more action, right? especially a knockout like you, little sis. I swear you keep getting prettier every time I see you!" Jae said excitedly.

"Oh, stop it," Miyeon blushed, and then there was that look again -- her cheeks puffing up the way they did and that little nibble of her lip. The frame of Miyeon first being penetrated came into his memory and he shook it off. "When did you become such a charmer, huh? And while we're handing out compliments, you've been hitting the gym a little yourself haven't you?"

With a little free time here and there, now that he had gotten past the difficult years in school, he had tried to stay in shape. He was now a pretty lean 6'0" and 185 lbs.

"Well, I gotta look good for the ladies right? And speaking of Jenna, maybe I oughta look her up when I go back to school!" Jae said leadingly.

"You wouldn't dare! She's my best friend!" Miyeon screamed.

"I don't know Miyeon. She was lookin' mighty fine in that sundress today." Jae teased.

"Better than me?" Miyeon asked him. She stepped back, kicked her hips out to the side, and posed for comparison.

"Hmm... let me think... turn for me." Jae continued to joke with her, but she did spin around, showing him her great little booty and the rest of her backside. "It's a close one, I think I oughta sleep with her to find out."

"No way, mister, don't even think about it. And that wouldn't be fair. You'd have to sleep with me then, and I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to do that." Miyeon shot back at him.

Jae had to hesitate a second at that, had she just said that. He could hardly hold back the thoughts of bending her over the railing right there and taking her like the little pornstar she was.

'Get a hold of yourself,' Jae scolded himself. See her mock upset look? He said, "Oh, alright already, plus I don't think they have guys like me down at that school of yours. Little girls like you only go for the hipster-type guys with jeans tighter than yours and a personality disorder."

"Ha, got a pretty high opinion of yourself there, huh, sport." Miyeon joked. "I think it's me you couldn't handle. They don't make 'em like me in that winter wasteland you attend," Miyeon thrust her chest out while saying that, and Jae practically shot in his pants. She looked so god damned sexy, and she must have known it. "I bet the only girls you take home at that school have a bigger dick than you."

"I doubt that," Miyeon's eyes seemed to glint and shoot downward at that comment, but Jae continued, "But just ask your friend Jenna in a week or two and she'll tell you."

Miyeon gave up, "Ugh, you are relentless! Whatever, I'm gonna take a shower, will you please bring up my bags Mr. Manly Man?"

Jae watched her walk away, her beautiful hips swaying as she sauntered down the hall. What was happening! He had suddenly started talking sex with his little sister, and he had to reel himself back in. But he didn't want to; truth of the matter was, he was imagining himself in that shower with her, fucking her brains out. Holding on to those gorgeous titties of hers, he could just pound away at her from behind.

'She's your sister for god's sake.' Jae knew he'd really turned the corner with the way he looked at his little sister. 'But the way she played into my jokes...' He argued in his head, 'She'd never go for it... or would she.' He took a few minutes downstairs to process what was going on. Even if she wanted him to, could he really do it? He poured himself a glass of water and drained it before grabbing her bags and heading upstairs.

Approaching her room, he saw the door half open, and beyond it, his little sister was undressing. She peeled her sweater off and tossed it on the bed as he climbed the last stair. A few more steps toward her door and he could see her reaching for the button on her jeans and trying to wiggle out of their snug fit. Her breasts swayed back and forth and nearly spilling out of the confines of her bra, a simple white push-up. The curves of her smooth skin, sun-kissed by the California rays at her school, accentuated a flawless body. As soon as she had the jeans down to her feet, hopping once or twice adorably, she reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and Jae made a coughing sound to announce his presence.

"Eh, hhem," he interrupted.

Miyeon, still with the jeans caught around one foot, reached for her breasts as the bra straps fell from her shoulders. She covered herself as best she could, and Jae looked away to give her her privacy.

"Sorry sis, I was just bringing your things," He snuck a peak once or twice over his right shoulder.

"Ha-ha, I guess I gave you a bit of any eyeful huh?" She was rustling around behind him and then said, "okay, you can look now."

As he turned, he realized she wasn't all that better covered, she had a tiny towel covering the essentials, but the tops of her breasts and the very bottom of her butt were clearly peeking out on either side. He could do nothing to stop his cock from hardening in his shorts, and he could have sworn he saw Miyeon's eyes catch it once or twice.

"What's the matter Oppa, am I making you nervous?" She teased.

"No, you're just not wearing very much and your my sister," he responded

"Hmm..." was all she said, glancing clearly down toward her brother's crotch, if only for a second.

Jae left her alone for the time being; whether or not something would happen between them, Jae knew he needed to cool down and take things slowly. If he had only waited a few more seconds earlier he would have probably seen Miyeon strip fully nude and he wasn't sure he was ready to see that in person (even if he had seen her being stuffed full of cock in the video just before she arrived home herself)

Miyeon showered and he heard her ambling down the stairs to the living room while he was sitting and watching TV. He shouldn't have even been shocked when he saw that she was wearing only a tiny orange top that could have been a bathing suit and yoga pants, and yet his jaw nearly dropped seeing all that exposed skin.

"Jeez sis, you comfortable?"

"When did you become such a prude, huh? It's my own damn house and I just had a long drive, I would have gone naked but I couldn't risk mom or dad coming home early," Miyeon responded with some sass.

"Because it would be fine for you to be prancing around in the nude in front of me..." Jae questioned

"Like I said..." Miyeon said almost inaudibly, but not quite, "...prude."

Jae heard it and wasn't pleased to be accused again. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

"Oh nothing." Miyeon lied. She wasn't about to reveal that she was thinking about becoming a full-time adult film star, especially not to her brother.

So they just watched TV together like that, Miyeon lounging across the couch with her gorgeous tummy stretched just so and her breasts hugged in the strip of cloth across them. The yoga pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination; she was, put simply, an absolute knockout. She was way too pretty for porn, he thought to himself, wishing again he hadn't seen her being used by an unnamed actor. Although he was defenseless to her beauty, (he knew for a fact that every other man was anyway) Jae simply couldn't shove off the protective feelings he had toward Miyeon. He'd been looking out for her since they were little.

"Let's do something, I'm bored," Miyeon whined.

"Like what?"

There was a pause, and Jae watched her as she looked deep in thought. Then, as if a light bulb had gone off in her head, she sat up straight, causing her breasts to shake in the orange top and her abs to flex gorgeously.

"Oh shit... I just forgot," Miyeon trailed off, clearly deep in thought again.

"Earth to Miyeon!" Jae called out to her.

"I have to do something, I can't believe I forgot." Miyeon

"Umm... okay."

Miyeon hopped off the couch and took the stairs two at a time up to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her before Jae could even enjoy the sight of her spandex-covered ass. He stayed where he was on the couch nonetheless, half enjoying the episode of one of those shows brain-dead he watched sometimes and half processing all of the information he'd taken in over the last hour or so.

Visions of Miyeon came in and out of his mind, some of them from the clip he'd just seen of her a short while ago. He dozed off a few times and was making peace with all of the chaos Miyeon had caused within him since he'd returned home when she quickly opened the door at the top of the stairs and walked out.

"So......." Miyeon said, walking to the stairs and looking down at him,

"So......." Jae questioned her.

"I have this thing I have to do, and I usually have my roommate at school help me with it, but she's not here now, and I forgot it was due tonight,"

"We're not exactly in the same program, Miyeon. I'm not sure I can help you with your homework," Jae replied.

"Yea... It's not that kind of thing."

"Ugh, okay. What is it?" Jae responded to her as he got up off the couch. "Well, that's the thing. I know I shouldn't be asking you, you being my brother and all, but I need your help." Miyeon had a guilty look, and Jae was still clueless.

"Well, what the hell is it already?" Jae asked, growing impatient.

"Just... can you come here, and I'll show you." This time, the look on her face was more naughty than anything else, and Jae liked it.

It was his turn to race up the stairs this time, but with Miyeon standing at the top, he tried to keep his cool. When he reached the top, he nearly ran into his sister and found himself standing a few inches from her. The scent of her body wash was faint yet exciting, and there was a moment of silence between them before Miyeon spoke.

"So... I didn't think I was going to need to tell you so soon...but..." she dragged this out.

"Oh God, just spit it out already."

"I NEED YOU TO TAKE PICTURES OF ME NAKED." She barely managed to form separate words.

It took a minute for Jae even to pick the words apart. "Uhh... WHAT?" This was a stretch, even after some of the thoughts he'd been having.

She was racing again, "I know it sounds weird, but I guess I kinda may have done some porn, and now I need to do a photo audition for a company that could give me a huge offer if I look good in it and I can't take the photos myself because I forgot my remote for the camera so I need you to do it and I know it will be weird, but I need you to so will you just please do it." She said it all in one breath.

"Whoa......." Jae didn't know how to respond just then.

Miyeon just looked up at him with eyes wide. They were pleading with him to agree.

"I don't know, Miyeon, this is out there." Sure, he'd wished to get inside her when he saw her on his computer screen, but didn't every guy imagine having sex with their favorite pornstars? If they were really in front of them, though, would a guy go through with it, maybe cheat on a girlfriend, risk getting her pregnant?

Fuck it, he didn't have a girlfriend. Thinking of getting Miyeon pregnant made him want to do more, and she hadn't even asked him to have sex with her, just see her naked.

"I guess if you need my help,"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She jumped into his arms, and he immediately felt his hands on that warm, taut abdomen he had drooled over before. 'God, she is so hot!' he screamed inwardly, and he rejoiced at the fact that he was about to see her naked.

"So I know this will be a bit weird for you, but if you just do as I say, we'll have the pictures we need in no time. I'll owe you so much." Her smile exuded sex now.

"Yeah, you bet you will," Jae said.

Miyeon took him by the hand and led him inside. She led him over to her dresser, where a pretty expensive-looking DSLR Camera and a few different lenses sat. On the bed was an outfit that he absolutely couldn't wait to see his little sister in, and when she picked it up and told him to wait as she put it on in the bathroom, he breathed heavily.

She walked out in an unbelievably sexy schoolgirl outfit. It had a blouse that was not much bigger than the plaid bra beneath and a miniskirt that couldn't even cover her pert little butt. She looked down at the floor and then up at Jae through the strands of brown hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

She looked so beautiful, and Jae suddenly decided to snap a picture. He brought the camera up and quickly took a picture. He perfectly captured the innocence she was exuding and kept taking pictures as she scolded him:

"Stop! I'm not ready yet."

"Hey, I said I'd take pictures, but I'll take them whenever I want, " he said with a smile.

"FINE! Like I said, you're relentless."

She slowly walked toward the bed and made sure to give him plenty of time to take pictures. She put a knee up on the bed and looked back at him; the pose was flawless.

"Are you sure this is okay with you? I know I was calling you prude earlier, so I don't want you to feel like you have to prove something, " she said, really meaning it.

"No Miyeon, it's really okay, you need help, and you're my little sis, so I'll do it. Besides, you're not so hard on the eyes anyway." He complimented

She was positively beaming after his comment and she bit on the tip of her pinky finger in embarrassment. She continued her path onto the bed and showed him a bit of her ass as she bent over on her hands and knees with her back arched impressively. Her little butt stood proud in the air, he snapped a pic every few seconds, moving this way and that to get good angles. She might have needed his help, but he would certainly enjoy this if he had any say in it.

Then Miyeon laid down flat and played around with her legs. 'Click, click, click,' went the camera as he got shots of her long aiguille socks snaking their way up her toned legs. They were so smooth and so alluring. She rolled over, once again arching her back as her brother took more pictures.

"You're beautiful, little one, keep doing that," Miyeon smiled as her brother breathed the compliment quietly not sure whether he'd meant her to hear it or not. She quickly untied the blouse to reveal the plaid bra beneath. It was a tight-fitting piece that caused her breasts to spill out over the tops. Jae couldn't imagine something more perfect or more seductive. He took multiple pictures as she kneeled upright on the bed to remove the blouse, her tits pushed out as she snaked her arms out through the sleeves.

Laying back down and stretching out on the bed, she posed a few times before reaching for the ties where her plaid miniskirt connected on the left and quickly tugging at the laces with her hand. The miniskirt loosened, and she slid it off her waist. She smiled a great, big, gleaming smile at the camera and flung the skirt her brother's way. Jae couldn't be certain, but he thought he may have gotten a great shot of the skirt midair with his little sister perched behind it on the bed, now in only her bra and a matching pair of panties.

Jae could feel his body heating up, though the temperature in the room hadn't changed a degree. It wasn't all that was going up either, and Miyeon took notice of the bulge in her brother's pants that was snaking its way toward his waistband. She felt so aroused that her big brother found her good enough looking to get an erection. It encouraged her further. She started posing more sensuously and in more provocative poses: tossing this way and that, sexy looks flashed across her beautiful face and she imagined that her eyes were begging him to ravage her.

Jae couldn't believe his restraint as he took picture after picture. But finally, it was the moment of truth, and as Miyeon reached around her backside with nimble fingers, disconnecting the clasp of her bra, Jae knew he was in for the treat of a lifetime. Once again, she let the bra fall only a bit before covering it with her hands, and he kept clicking and clicking. More of her breasts were showing now, and he wanted more than anything to see the remaining hidden objects of his fantasy.

Miyeon teased him, though, for as soon as she let the bra fall, her hands were there to cover her nipples, which were hard as ever, she noted. She stood and walked toward him, getting dangerously close, and when only a few feet away, she covered both her breasts with one hand and reached down to shove off her tiny panties. Down and over her cute socks they went and Miyeon's free hand covered her pussy. He could tell she was shaven, and seeing his sister's exposed body made his heart begin to race.

Jae was rock hard by then, so when Miyeon came very close to him and then backed away slowly after whispering, "see something you like," and then glancing downward toward his enlarged manhood, Jae was positively swooning. He remembered to take pictures, however, and was finally coming back to earth when his sister dropped her hands and ran them over her body.

She had been so breathtaking in the vide,o but it did no justice to what she looked like in real life. It was like she'd been sculpted from marble. Her breasts hung in part teardrops, a full handful or more. Her pussy was so tiny, he wondered how in the world she fit anything into it. She'd certainly have a hard time taking him. 'Whoa there, fella,' he thought to himself, 'don't move too fast, you're only here to take pictures.'

The pictures continued for a few minutes like this, with Miyeon prancing around the room and taking up different positions: on the bed, on the chair, lying down, kneeling, etc. His favorites were as she stood against the wall; he could just imagine pinning her to the wall and lifting her off her feet with his thrusts. She was so exiting that he couldn't imagine what company would turn her down. She really was way too pretty for porn, he thought to himself.

Then Miyeon paused and stopped moving about on the bed.

"You've been so helpful. I wonder if I could ask... no... that's too much, and I've already asked so much. Never mind." She seemed conflicted but sincere about letting him off the hook.

"What is it Miyeon, I told you I'd help no matter what, and I meant it," Jae assured his sister.

"Okay, but don't freak out. Just say no if you think you can't handle it." The way she phrased that was a little bit of a dig, but he nodded his head in agreement.

"So, the shoot has a second part they say is optional but encouraged," she had a much guiltier look on her face this time. "It involves a guy, and they said they'd really like to see how I perform a little on camera.

"Oh no, are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Jae was a little worried, was she suggesting that he... have sex with her? He felt light-headed.

"You'd just have to let me take it out and hold it a little bit while you snap pictures, you can pretend it's Jenna or someone else." His little sister looked down at the floor again.

"You're going to what, jerk me off or something." Jae couldn't tell whether he was scare or excited, or both.

"Just for a little bit, I promise I'll be quick about it, I just need to borrow your..." she paused, "you know, your thing for a minute or two."

"This is a little more than taking pictures, Miyeon. And what if Mom or Dad comes home?" Jae questioned her; it was a legitimate concern.

"I talked to Mom after I got off the plane. She said she was going to be late tonight, and Dad never gets home before 8 p.m. anyway. PLEAAASSSEEE Oppa, please!

"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day of innocent little Miyeon begging to hold my dick." Jae laughed as he said it, bringing a smile to his little sister's face. "Yea yeah, go ahead."

"Oh my God I can't thank you enough, once again she hugged him, except this time without anything but his t-shirt between them he could feel his sister's nipples poking into him and much more of the heat of her body as she pressed it against him.

Reaching down between them as she hugged him, she felt over his jeans the long strip along which his hard cock had adjusted to fit in his pants.

"Wow, it can't be that big, can it?" His sister looked up at him.

Jae only shrugged at her, and she dropped to her knees to remove his pants. He pointed the camera down at her and took a few pictures with it zoomed out as much as possible. Her fingers skillfully unbuttoned his jeans and released the zipper. In a few seconds she had him stepping out of his pants and standing before her in only his boxers.

She involuntarily stroked a few times, before pulling the boxers down as well. Out popped Jae's sizable erection.

"Wow Oppa, I never knew." His little sister looked up at him with wide eyes and he snapped a shot of her, it was gorgeous.

She pulled him over to the bed and got on all fours, encouraging him to sit down so she could get a better angle. He held the camera away while she took his shirt off of him and the two of them were naked on the bed together. His sister started stroking his cock, and he was tempted to say something about how she was going further then she'd said she would but the feeling of her tiny hand wrapped around his enormous member was just too good. Plus, she had said she was going to need to touch him, so he couldn't back out on her now. 'Click, click, click," he kept photographing the whole thing.

He held the camera away and attempted to get a more distant shot when he felt something he did not expect. Pushing the hair back around her ear, Miyeon lowered her mouth to the tip of her brother's penis. She popped the whole tip in her mouth before Jae could say anything.

"Miyeon," he said quietly so as not to embarrass her,

"Miyeon!" he repeated, this time with more urgency.

She looked up at him to acknowledge his call as she licked around his sensitive tip, and Jae managed to take a few more pictures. Her eyes searched him for what he was calling to her for, and he started to say.

"Miyeon, I thought you said we weren't going to.....ahhhh"

He couldn't finish the statement for the life of him, for as he tried to, his little sister had begun plunging her head onto his cock and taking it deep into her throat. Further and further she took it until she could take no more, and she pulled it out slowly, not taking her eyes off his for one second. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen a woman do, and it was his sister, for crying out loud.

Miyeon continued to suck him like that for a few minutes, and Jae was in heaven feeling her warm mouth and tongue wrap around him, washing away any feelings he may have had to stop what they were doing. She worked him with her mouth and hand, and he snapped photo after photo of his hot little pornstar sucking him for all he was worth. Slippery with her saliva, Miyeon slid her hand up and down in tandem with her warm mouth, flitting her tongue about and kissing Jae's tip as she reached it.

She slowed to a stop and then gingerly lay back on the bed. Her breasts laid proudly atop her chest, and her narrow waist looked like something he could take into his hands and grasp on to. He was standing a few feet away, and Miyeon reached out with her sock-covered soles, expertly grasping onto his erect cock and pulling it toward her.

"I said I'd only touch it, but if I want the job, the more intense the shots I send, the better the chance..." She made the sweetest puppy dog face she could muster,

" You've helped so much. But..."

"Miyeon, I hope you're not thinking what I think you are..." Jae knew he wanted it, but he also knew it was wrong. Once again, he was conflicted, and the rod that his little sister held in her hands snugly was turning him against himself.

It was as if Miyeon hadn't even heard him protesting, "I owe you so bad, I promise I'll make it up to you. I don't have anybody else!"

"Miyeon, you can't ask me," his voice pleaded as he trailed off. I won't be able to say no."

"Can you put it in, just a little, and take a few pictures?" Her voice rang sweetly in his head. How could he possibly say no? "I promise that's all. Just an inch, and then you can stop."

But Jae knew he wouldn't be able to stop, and he couldn't even respond but walk closer to her and adore her body with his eyes and the camera. He pointed it down at her, his little sister's body lain out for him just like she was in the video he saw. He felt her legs pull from behind as she wrapped them around him and the ridged cotton high-socks rubbed against his skin. It was intoxicating, but not so much as the feeling he experienced as the tip of his cock made contact with his little sister's pussy.

It was soaking wet, and the first push of his sister's heels caused the underside of his shaft to rub all the way up his Miyeon's wet quim. As it made contact with her clit she let out a sweet little moan, reaching for her brother subconsciously. Her fingertips scanned his muscular chest and she pulled him to her lips just after he caught a picture of the incestuous contact his cock was making with her slit.

"Thank you Oppa, you don't know how much this means to me." She kissed him passionately and trailed with more soft kisses to his lips. He could sense deeper meaning in her words regardless of the empty promises coming out of her mouth. He accepted them willingly and kissed her back, camera in one hand and the nape of her neck in the other. His member mashed against her mound harder, and Miyeon moaned into her brother's mouth.

"Anything for you, little one, just tell me what to do." He really loved her and wanted to help her in any way he could, and thoughts of the inappropriateness of their tryst began to eke out from his racing thoughts. He'd stop if she wanted to in a heartbeat; all she had to do was say the word.

"Okay...mmmh..." she cooed as he retreated, and his underside rubbed its way back along her slick outer lips, "just put the tip right there...uhh huh... right on the outside."

She reached down between them and guided it a bit more, and Jae got a fantastic shot of her holding his shaft and placing it in the perfect spot. 'Click, uhhhhh, Click the camera's frames were interrupted by the soft pants of his little sister preparing for him to press into her, only an inch as she'd promised.

"Just a little baby?" He asked her.

"Yeah, just....mmmm... just the tip of it," she said breathily.

He pressed in a bit, not even half of the tip of his cock entered into his sexy little pornstar before he realized he was fucking her. It was beyond his wildest dreams, and by the time he'd sunk only an inch of his pulsing rod into her, she was breathing and gasping heavily.

"Fuckkk......it's too big.....just hold it there..... mmmnghhh," she sounded so sweet, so erotic, "Oh god, take a picture before I cum."

They both giggled, but Miyeon wasn't kidding, his tip alone had her fired up and hornier than she'd ever been. The fact that it was her brother made it so much more naughty and so much more exciting!

'Click, click,' Jae snapped shots of her whole body with his cock only just entering his little sister, they were beautiful photos, he was sure, and the look on Miyeon's face was so genuine, so full of lust and enjoyment that she sold it flawlessly. Someone would be looking at these photos to judge his little sister's potential as a pornstar having no idea that it was the little brunette's brother with his cock lodged inside of her.

Jae felt her socks on his back again. They urged him forward, and he had nowhere to go but in. 'Click,' another half-inch disappeared into Miyeon's tiny frame.

"Miyeon, ohhh, that's more than an inch...." They both knew damn well that it was, but neither Jae or Miyeon planned to do anything about it.

She moaned exquisitely, and another inch deeper he went. Miyeon's toes spread in her schoolgirl knee-highs as his head forged its way into her, and her tunnel spread to accommodate it, and Jae couldn't help but let out a groan himself. 'Click' the camera caught his shaft halfway into his young sister, and the warmth and tightness of it was excruciatingly perfect.

"Oh God, Miyeon, you feel so good. Should I stop, I'm already halfway in!" He was trying desperately to keep taking pictures as he pierced her with his rock-solid staff.

"Just a little further, then you should.....oh god....fuckkkk....I feel like you're going to split me in half..... so big......so fucking good." Her dirty talk was so sexy, he couldn't believe his ears. Almost all the way in his sister now, Jae snapped a picture with one hand and reached out to grab her breast in the other. It filled his hand like it was meant to be and he could feel the upright nipple poking into his palm like a marble. He massaged her breast and took another picture like that as Miyeon reached down to guide in the last inch of his enormous dick.

"Then I should...ohh... what, Miyeon? Stop?" He would if she wanted to, but she felt so good he sincerely hoped he never had to leave.

"Uhh huh..... yeah, we should st.....ohhhh, it just feels so good." She was arching her back as she had in the photos before, and this time, Jae pointed the camera to get her doing it while skewered on his pole. He bottomed out inside of her and felt his balls press against her firm cheeks.

"I'm gonna pull out now, mmm, okay baby?" Jae could hardly say it; he felt so good because of his sister's unbelievably tight tunnel wrapping him up in warmth and wetness. She nodded in agreement as Jae withdrew from his baby sister's slick warmth. The friction created as his head rubbed along her insides made Miyeon's eyes roll back, and Jae grabbed firmly at her waist to ground himself from the pleasure. As Miyeon's lips gave way to his bulbous head and he withdrew that final inch, Jae looked down for some response from his sister.

"Maybe just one.....one more time.....ohhh god... oh fuckkk.... Just to make sure we got good photos....mmmh." She was now closing her eyes as Jae's hand wrapped around her side as he'd imagined grabbing it. It was pliable in his hands yet warm and firm. He took a picture of his fingers making an impression on her hip as he removed his cock from his sister's womb and then began plunging it in again. Miyeon reached out for him and held her hand over his as her other held his sensitive balls and caressed them with her fingers. She worshipped him with her hands and her moans as he sank his entire cock into Miyeon faster this time. Inch by inch ,he plummeted into her, and her insides could barely take him for all the tightness her pussy was displaying.

"Ohhhhh....shitttt...... again..." she gasped.

He pulled out and shoved back in, barely taking any pictures now. It was doubtful the camera was getting anything good. He simply couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of his cock buried in his little sister's quim.

"I think we got it all Miyeon.... Fuck that's tight.... what do you want now?" He savored the feeling of what could be his last time burying his cock inside his little sister.

"One... moruhhhhhh." She didn't finish what she was saying over her moans of ecstasy.

"What was that Miyeon? Fuck...so good...what do you want?"

"Ohhhhhhh.... Just shut up and.... Fuck..... fuck me already!"

Jae took a second to process what he'd just heard before Miyeon snatched the camera from his hand and quickly cast it onto the pillows beside them. Taking his hands in hers she guided them to her ample breasts and massaged them into herself, leaving them there and opting to put hers around his waist and encourage him inside of her. Jae obliged his sister, fucking her as she'd asked and picking up the speed at which he buried every inch of himself into her. He could see her squirm and flex beneath him, hoping he was not causing her pain as he extracted so much pleasure from her sex.

He took her waist with both hands and withdrew his cock from her perfect little pussy. It was hard to believe it fit inside her, the opening barely looked big enough for two fingers. But as he placed his tip back at her soft, wet hole, and pressed inside, it gave way to her slick channel and his cock found its home once again.

His hands mashed into her waist as he used it for leverage to begin fucking his sister harder little by little. She grabbed his wrists to hold on too and he began to withdraw and sink into her faster, her body pressing into the bed under the force of his thrusts.

"Oh my godd.... You are so fucking.....mghhhh.... huge... I love you.... And your cock!

"I love you too baby, I could do this forever." He really could, and his breaths became laden with effort and pleasure. He drove into her and upon withdrawal said: "My baby sister..." plunging once again... "I'm fucking my.... " Miyeon smiled as he withdrew and slammed her, finishing: "my hot....little....sister."

Jae watched his cock disappear into Miyeon, and he could nearly see her abdomen yielding to his invading shaft, expanding and contracting with the path of his rock-hard staff. She was so little compared to him, yet she fucked him right back and her breasts bounced joyfully as he fucked her with reckless abandon.

Reaching down now, he brought his lips to hers kissed her sensuously and lovingly, their tongues tangling and his hands exploring her body as he pressed his abdomen to hers and caressed as much of her body as he could get his hands on.

"Mmghhhh.... Baby... fuck me harder..." Miyeon shouted to him

Jae scooped his sister up in his arms and sat down on the bed, reversing their positions so they were both seated, and Miyeon could begin to fuck him herself. She kneeled on the bed and lifted herself up, and then down, again and again while bucking and howling her pleasure on top of her brother with his cock buried inside of her. Jae began meeting her thrusts with his own pelvis and a soft slapping sound accompanied their hips colliding and his cock becoming fully lodged in their incestuous romp time after time.

He lifted her up in that same position and began to bounce her on his cock a few times. She giggled in the middle of a moan and it came out sounding so adorably sexy that they both shared a smile and a laugh as Jae continued to fuck his sister, standing straight with her supported by his strong arms. He walked over to the wall, pinning her against it, still lifted off the ground and accepting full, powerful thrusts inside of her.

The coolness of the wall, together with the heat of their exchange, had Miyeon ready and oh-so willing to come. Beads of sweat formed liked freckles atop her rosy cheeks, and Jae buried himself in her neck, kissing and suckling at her smooth, sweet skin with his lips and eliciting further moans from the adorable pornstar he was fucking against the wall. A tiny drip of sweat formed on Miyeon's nose and she blew it away with pursed lips and a pre-orgasm gasp of air. Jae adjusted his approach angle just a bit, but it struck Miyeon in a spot that widened her eyes in shock and excruciating pleasure.

"Oh.....My.....God, FUCCKKK.....keep going right.......mnnnnhhh.... there!" She screamed as he worked the angle and stimulated her g-spot with his large rod plunge after plunge. Shocked that he had not yet climaxed into the tiny pornstar he had pinned against the wall, he was far from complaining as he pushed her closer to her own release. Another stroke and he could feel his sister gasping for air; he pulled back from kissing her neck and looked her in the eyes. The brilliant green irises of her pleading eyes begged him to push her over the edge, so, maintaining the way he was spearing her against the wall, Jae did just that.

"Uhhhhhhh.... Oppaaaa......Unnnnnggghhh," She begged him.

Thrust, gasp, thrust, Miyeon was so immersed in pleasure she thought she'd lose consciousness. One more burying of her brother's cock sent her into one of the most intense orgasms of her life. Her pussy flooded with the wetness of her climax and eased her brother's domination of her sweet tunnel. She stayed there, pinned and helpless to stop her cumming until she stopped, which took a while. When she her cunt finally stopped quaking around Jae's invading member, she could see that her brother was exhausted. She loved him so much for the orgasm he'd given her and wanted to pay him back tenfold. She kissed him hard, biting softly at his lower lip and said,

"Let me down stud, let me do a little of the work, huh?"

Jae smiled and let his beautiful sister slowly down to her outstretched toes, still firmly planted and completely hard inside of her. The motion of her sliding down the wall urged his shaft deeper into her, the residual effects of her orgasm and Jae's ever-approaching one causing them both to grasp at each other when they felt it.

Miyeon took hold of his hardness with one hand, and, standing back on her tip-toes, slid her brother's cock out of her pussy in one long and reluctant draw. The cool air made Jae want nothing more than to slam his sister against the wall once more, and Miyeon felt terrifyingly empty without her brother's huge cock filling her up, but she quickly pushed Jae back to the bed and jumped on top of him before either of them could complain but for a second's longing glance.

She squeezed his shaft between her pink lips and his own abdomen and wiggled there atop him. The contact made him anxious to be back inside her, but with his sister in control now, there was nothing he could do now but hope that she'd soon place him back home inside her. Miyeon grinned naughtily as she slid her hips seductively over his shaft and her strong, toned thighs straddled him, making as much contact between their two bodies as possible.

"Don't tease me anymore Miyeon. I can't take it," Jae complained,

"Ohhh, what's the matter big bro, I thought you said we couldn't do this."

Jae only gave her a displeased look; they were far passed considering the morality of the situation and he wanted only to be planted firmly back where he could savor the heat and snugness that Miyeon's pussy offered. "Say please... mmmhh," she was still rubbing her clit up and down the underside of her brother's shaft and stopping millimeters from the spot where he could slip inside before denying Jae the satisfaction.

"Ugggh," he gave in, now it was his turn to beg, "Please Miyeon..."

She leaned down on top of him, her luscious tits hanging down and then pressing firmly to his chest as she kissed him and reached down between them. She kissed him and took hold of his cock as she lifted up her hips to allow him entrance. Lingering just a moment, Miyeon opened her eyes long enough to meet Jae's and then sank down onto his cock as he'd asked.

They both gasped in sweet, sweet relief. It was just as good as the first time, and as his little sister picked up her hips to slide him almost entirely out of her, he took her hips in his firm hands and followed the path they took back down to meet his pelvis. He pawed at and worshipped her like the beautiful pornstar she was (or intended to be) and enjoyed the feeling of her tight pussy walls hugging his member.

"Oh God," Miyeon was cooing once again, glad to have her brother filling her up again, "I love your cock, uhhhhhh." Her voice was so sultry he could hardly take it. "You like fucking your....ohhhhh Oppa....your little sister......mmmmnhhh? Your little pornstar?"

"God yes," Jae greeted her with his affirmation and the upward thrust of his hips.

He was so deep in her now; every inch of his cock was being stimulated by the grasp of her tight quim. Jae was squeezing her hips, her ass, caressing her soft skin and delving into it with his fingers. Again and again he met her hips and she dropped down onto him. Her breasts bounced awesomely as she fucked him, and Jae watched as his little sister's body flexed and writhed above him.

At one point she ceased bouncing atop him instead opting to stay locked hip to hip with him, rotating her hips and adding a new kind of stimulation to their incestuous fucking. Moaning louder, Miyeon rubbed her clit against him hard, and Jae's cock pulsed and slid about inside of her pussy so amazingly that both brother and sister were headed to release fast. Pressing her to him with his hands and working her left and right, round and round, Jae held his sister and helped her to fuck him just the way she wanted.

"Cum for me Miyeon, God I love fucking you!"

"You first baby, ooohhhhhh," Miyeon was starting to lift her hips off her brother again and return to fucking him in earnest. "Cum inside me Oppa, fuck me and cum inside me."

Miyeon lunged forward and pressed her lips against her brother, rolling to the side as she did so with her brother's hard shaft still lodged inside of her. They lay there, facing each other when the little pornstar wrapped a leg over her brother's hips and pulled his pelvis closer to her, urging him to resume his conquest of her body. Jae got her message and began to slide his cock in and out of his sister once more, spurred on by the return thrusts of his sister.

Seconds from release now, Jae pressed a hand between them to admire with his hands her beautiful breasts, palming and caressing in rhythm their fucking. They exchanged exasperated kisses and together struggled to focus on anything but their incestuous coupling and the pleasure it was giving them. Jae could feel his young sister entering the throws of another orgasm, and Miyeon, through her haze could sense her brother there as well. She ran her hands through his hair just so, the way she had since they were young. Kissing him and pulling away to look in his eyes, Miyeon whispered:

"Cum in me baby, uhhhhhhh please.... Cum inside your naughty little sister's pussy."

Gazing eye to eye they thrust their hips against each other, laying side by side kissing, fucking and needing each other. Jae shook his head yes to assure his little sister he was going to give her what she wanted, to coat her insides with her brother's seed. Miyeon began to gasp; the rhythmic motion of her hips becoming less fluid. Jae picked up the slack, desperately ready to release into his little sister. As Miyeon's orgasm began to wrack her body, Jae held onto her frame and pulled his cock just a millimeter from entirely out of his little sister's pussy before pressing it into her for one last complete, incredible stroke.

Miyeon was nearly howling as she began squirming next to her brother and he began pumping his seed into his sister. She could feel it, warm and oh so amazing as her brother came in her tiny little pussy. Her quim clenched and encouraged him to continue, rope after rope straight into his baby sister's womb. They were both so immersed in the pleasure of each other's bodies that neither cared about the risk of Jae freely filling Miyeon with his semen nor that it was his own sister. They simply loved each other, loved fucking each other and continued to do so as Jae held his sister in his arms as she shuddered and whimpered through a mind-blowing orgasm. Jae pressed ever deeper into his little sister, seeking complete immersion of his staff in his Miyeon's loving tunnel.

They could feel the products of Jae's orgasm working its way through Miyeon's tight pussy and she only enjoyed it the more as her climax echoed through her beautiful body. They were wrapped tightly, legs entangled, hands searching and lips seeking each other's between attempts to regain breath. They remained so for an indiscriminate amount of time before finally both had extracted as much pleasure as was available from the other.

Jae slowly, reluctantly, slid his still semi-erect shaft from inside Miyeon and saw her eyes filled with distress and the afterglow of her orgasm. She pulled him closer when he was finally entirely removed from her, as if their closeness would somehow fill the void left in her empty quim. At least, it was mostly empty but for the thick, white semen peeking between her lips. Miyeon smiled and Jae saw and admired the look on her face as she buried her head in the nape of his neck. Lightly perspiring, freshly fucked and full of her brother's cum she was more beautiful than ever. Jae never wanted to let go. They simply lay there, holding each other and emanating love through their contact. Miyeon spoke first:

"Two times!" She was still obviously worn and breathing heavily from what she'd just been through. "I've never been fucked so well in my life." Miyeon was positively glowing, with a smile that would not soon leave her cute face.

"You were.....are..... so amazing, Miyeon. Thank you for..." Jae struggled with the words, and his little sister giggled into his neck; it tickled him. "For.....everything."

They both had smiles a mile wide when Miyeon spoke once again: "I hope it's not too strange for you finding out how I've been making a little extra money on the side. I've only done one scene and I knew the guy it was with." She had a hint of worry in her voice.

"Strange? Not; you are so gorgeous. I think the whole world would want to have you the way I just did. Though I am going to try and talk you into fucking only me from now on, that was incredible."

"Bad boy!" Miyeon was laughing sweetly then.

"I have something to confess, though," Jae started, "I saw an envelope in the mail before you got home, and I may have opened it. It was a copy of the DVD from the company that you did the scene for...." Jae thought she might be mad and awaited her response.

"Hmmm... very bad boy... you knew all along? Did you, you know, watch it?" She didn't sound angry at all, flattered actually.

"I may have, you know, flipped through the scene a little bit, just to see if it was true. God you were so beautiful! I just got too jealous I think that some other guy was... you know." Jae was sincere in complimenting her, and Miyeon hugged him closer.

"Awww.... Okay well as long as we're being honest...."

Miyeon pulled back a bit, and Jae's eyes searched hers for what she would say.

"So.... I may not have been straight with you when you took pictures earlier." She had half-guilty, half-naughty look on her face that Jae thought looked extraordinarily sexy.

"And....?" He questioned.

"I may have made you do more than they asked for," she revealed as Jae was starting to crack a smile, laughing then and unable even to pretend to be upset, "In fact, I didn't need a guy in the scene at all, I kinda tricked you into fucking me."

Laughing harder, Jae quickly retorted, "I've never lucked out so well after being tricked!"

"I just really wanted to fuck you, I kind of always have, and I have a feeling you might have wanted that at least a little too?" Her eyes were searching his now.

"You've got me there," Jae said back. Miyeon sighed a little in relief after her confession.

They giggled and held each other close, remarkably content and looking forward to the time ahead. Jae was far from being done with his sister and her gorgeous body, and Miyeon intended to fuck her brother as many times as she could from then on. If their first experience was any evidence for the future, they had much fun ahead of them.

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 3

paige x azzi

word count: 8k

a/n: this is just a chapter that moves their relationship forward a little so it’s honestly just random interactions they have. let me know what you think/live react if you can. they’re always appreciated 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

Azzi had been back in LA for four days. The Sparks had already knocked out two games, and the schedule gave them a rare breath. One day off before flying out to Connecticut for a few road games. She’d been staring at her phone on and off all morning. Honestly she’d been thinking about texting Paige since she landed back in LA.

Azzi knew that if she didn’t reach out first Paige likely never would. So she kept flipping her phone screen up, then down. Eventually she sighed and grabbed her phone again. Her first message was just something simple.

Azzi [9:17AM]:

hi gorgeous

She didn’t expect a quick response, especially not from Paige. But her phone lit up almost immediately.

Paige [9:17 AM]:

wassup?

This made Azzi sit up a little straighter. She smiled and typed a response.

Azzi [9:17 AM]:

what are you up to today?

Paige [9:18 AM]:

got a training. then prolly going to workout

Azzi blinked, laughing under her breath.

Azzi [9:18 AM]:

you’re going to workout AFTER you’re done training?

Paige [9:18 AM]:

yeah

Of course she was. Azzi bit her lip, thumbs hovering as she debated what she wanted to say next. Finally, she decided to just be blunt.

Azzi [9:19 AM]:

i wanna see you today

if that’s ok with you

There was a short pause. Long enough to make Azzi regret sending it before Paige finally replied.

Paige [9:21 AM]:

you can come work out with me

Azzi [9:22 AM]:

it’s an off day

but i can come watch you workout

Paige [9:22 AM]:

watch me workout? seems boring

Azzi grinned as she typed her reply

Azzi [9:22 AM]:

i’m sure i’ll enjoy myself

Paige texted back a minute later.

Paige [9:23 AM]:

trainer’s coming at 10

i’ll probably start my workout around 12

Paige dropped a pin for her address and Azzi liked the message.

Azzi [9:24 AM]:

see you soon :)

As the morning stretched on, Azzi kept herself busy by stretching, having a little fruit, and scrolling. The clock felt like it was moving just a little slower than usual on purpose.

But when it finally got closer to the time she should leave, she took a shower and slipped on a pair of black Nike leggings and a black crop top. It was warm enough that the idea of her curls sticking to her neck made her grimace, so she pulled her hair up into a bun.

She glanced at herself once in the mirror, fixing her bun slightly before she grabbed her keys to head out the door.

When Azzi pulled up to the house, she eased into the driveway next to a matte black Audi R8 V10. Her eyes lingered on it for a second, slightly surprised.

She reached for her phone, debating whether to shoot Paige a quick text letting her know she was here. But she figured Paige was probably mid-set or hadn’t even checked her phone since this morning. So she opted for the side gate that she remembered going through with Cam and Rickea last time they were here.

The path curved around the backyard, and as she got closer to the gym she heard a voice calling out numbers and gloves hands hitting mitts with a constant rhythm. It sounded like Paige was still with her trainer so Azzi slowed her pace slightly, not wanting to interrupt.

Azzi stepped in slowly, the door creaking just enough to announce her presence. Paige and her trainer both instinctively turned toward the sound; Paige still breathing heavily, cloves resting at her sides, a grey shirt clinging to her skin.

The trainer looked confused, his eyes flicking to Paige silently asking if she was expecting someone but Paige didn’t react, only offering up, “I’ll be done in like ten minutes.”

Azzi gave her a soft smile saying, “No rush.” Azzi then made her way to the bench tucked along the side wall.

The trainer raised his padded hands again, and Paige turned back to him, nodding her head slightly, telling him to continue.

“1-1-2,” he called out.

Paige’s gloves snapped forward in a quick rhythm of two jabs and a cross.

“1-2-3.”

Another jab, cross, lead hook. It all seemed so crisp. Paige reacted to the combos like they had been engraved in her brain.

“6-3-2.”

The uppercut she threw landed with enough force to make her trainer shift his stance. He didn’t comment on it, just nodded in silent praise.

Azzi leaned back against the bench, watching the rest of Paige’s training unfold. Paige’s grey shirt was soaked through the back, and her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun. There was no music playing and no unnecessary chatter. Azzi’s eyes tracked every one of Paige’s movements. The way her back foot pivoted, how she snapped back into guard after each hit. How her shoulders moved with fluidity. Her breathing steady even as sweat rolled down the side of her jaw.

She looked beautiful like this and Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little in awe of watching her in her element.

The trainer called for a sidekick and Paige turned her hips and threw it hard—maybe a little too hard. Her foot hit the pad and forced her trainer to take a small step back, wincing with a quick laugh.

“Alright, yeah,” he said, shaking her head. “We’re done for the day.”

Paige’s face didn’t change much. She just exhaled through her nose, taking a step back and uncleaning her fists. She mumbled out, “My bad,” before moving to step out of the cage.

She walked toward the bench, tugging at the velcro on her gloves as Azzi sat up straighter, trying not to let it show how much she’d been staring.

Paige peeled the gloves off her hands and tossed them onto the bench next to Azzi. She stepped forward, reaching just past her, close enough that Azzi caught the faint scene to sweat and whatever soap Paige used. Her arm brushed Azzi’s shoulder lightly as she grabbed a half-empty bottle of water.

Paige twisted the cap off and took a long swig before glancing down at Azzi. “What’d you think?”

Azzi looked up at her, a small smile on her lips. “You look good.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, “I was talking about my form Azzi.”

Azzi shrugged, a little sheepish, but she still had a smile on her face. “I mean…I don’t know anything about fighting. But you hit stuff really well and you look good doing it.”

Paige just stared at her for a second, jaw flexing before she finally shook her head and took a step back, mumbling under her breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Azzi stood up, brushing invisible lint off her leggings as she took a step toward Paige. The blonde had her fingers hooked at the hem of her wet shirt tugging it upward over her torso. Her abs flexed briefly with her movements and her skin glistened under the overhead lights. She let her gaze linger, just for a second too long and Paige caught it. She paused halfway through pulling her shirt over her head saying, “Enjoying the show?”

Azzi’s eyes lift up to meet Paige’s blue ones. At the same time she bites her bottom lip a little saying, “Like I said, you definitely look good.”

Paige yanks the shirt off the rest of the way. “That right?”

Brown eyes drop to pale collarbones and abs before rising. “That’s right.”

Paige shakes her head with a quiet chuckle and glances somewhere else in the gym. “You flirt like you get paid to do it.”

Azzi grinned at this. “Could be if you hired me.”

That made Paige glance over at her again, a slight sparkle in her eye. “What’s the job description?”

Azzi pretended to think about it for a second before saying, “Motivational speaker. Personal admirer maybe. Really depends on what you like.”

Paige took another sip of her water, maybe trying to hide the small curve at the edge of her mouth. “You’re a little ridiculous, you know that?”

Azzi shrugged, “You’re not telling me to stop, so maybe you like it.”

Paige looked at her, like really looked, then just briefly her eyes flicked from Azzi’s face to her lips, the back again. If Azzi wasn’t paying attention she wouldn’t have caught it, but she did and she licked her lips slightly to stop the smirk. Paige finally said, “I told you, You can flirt if it floats your boat.”

“It does.”

They stood in the stillness of Azzi’s words for a second and the air between them seemed to get a little thick before Paige looked away, tipping her head toward the weights. “Spot me?”

Azzi didn’t take her eyes off of Paige as she nodded. “Mhmm.”

Paige walked over to the bench press, grabbing a towel and throwing it over the bench before sitting down. Azzi trailed after her slowly, watching every movement.

“You can’t spot me if you’re just going to stare,” Paige said plainly.

Azzi smiled, completely unapologetic about her blatant staring. “You’ll be fine.”

Paige scoffed softly, then laid back and adjusted her grip on the bar. Azzi stepped in behind her, hovering above the bar now. Paige exhaled deeply and began her set, the bar rising and falling easily. Azzi counted under her breath, but somewhere around rep five, her eyes began to drift from Paige’s shoulders to her chest down to her tight abs on display.

By the eight rep, Paige racked the bar cleanly and sat up. She caught Azzi’s gaze. “Thought you were spotting me.”

Azzi blinked, adding a sarcastic comment to recover. “Seems like you didn’t need one.”

Paige wiped her face with the towel. “I didn’t. I was humoring you.”

Azzi grinned. “That’s sweet. Most people take me seriously though.”

Paige took a long sip of water, then looked at her again. “That might be the problem.”

Azzi tilted her head at this. “You don’t?”

Paige met her gaze. “I didn’t say that.”

Azzi let the moment hang, the tension rising in the space between them.

Paige looked away, putting her water bottle back on the floor. “I’m doing another set.”

Azzi stepped back slightly, eyes still on her. “Don’t let me distract you.”

Paige shook her head as she laid back down, gripping the bar mumbling, “Little late for that.”

She moved through the rest of her push day easily, not pushing herself too hard. Doing just enough to keep her muscles active. Azzi lingered close by during each exercise, standing near Paige, sitting on the edge of the bench, or crouched nearby, offering jokes to distract the blonde on purpose.

“Your shoulders are actually kind of crazy,” Azzi said at one point when Paige set down her dumbbells. “You could do all of this and still have energy to carry me upstairs.”

Paige shook her head, biting back a laugh as she grabbed her towel. “You got a crazy ass imagination.”

“Not crazy,” Azzi responded, walking with Paige to her next station. “Just optimistic.”

There were more lines like that. Compliments tossed out like bait knowing Paige would bite on some of them. For the most part Paige deflected with a dry comment or a simple raised eyebrow, but Azzi noticed the few that landed. The slight lift at the corner of Paige’s mouth, the way she’d glance down at her feet or take a deep breath before moving on.

Eventually the workout wrapped up and Paige was rolling out her shoulders and stretching on one of her mats. Her arms were crossed behind her back in a deep chest opener. Azzi had been quiet for the past couple of minutes, as she watched Paige stretch in peace.

“You always dissociate like this when you’re done working out? Azzi asked as she stepped closer to Paige.

“Only when somebody’s staring at me like they’re tryna eye fuck me and I gotta pretend like I don’t see it.” Paige replied, keeping her eyes forward.

Azzi smiled at this and said, “I’m just appreciating the view.”

Paige turned her head, catching the way Azzi’s gaze wasn’t on her face, her eyes resting on the exposed skin just above her waistband. Now don’t get her wrong, Azzi wasn’t desperate by any means. She just knew what her gaze did, knew how to play the game right. So when she saw Paige looking at her she stepped closer, the two of them face to face and her hand lifted, her fingers lightly grazing the lining of Paiges stomach muscles, her eyes moving up to see the blonde’s reaction.

Paige’s jaw looked clenched and her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. For a moment it didn’t feel like the blonde was breathing. The contact was so light that it could’ve been imagined, but Paige felt it and it made her all too aware of how long it had been since she’d gotten laid.

Azzi let her fingers drop away, brushing her hand back as if nothing happened. “Did I tell you that you look good already?”

Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just kept her gaze on Azzi’s face, then drifted her eyes to Azzi’s lips before she broke it, looking past her, toward the other end of the gym like she needed to redirect her thoughts before they got ahead of her.

“You hungry?” Paige asked.

Azzi didn’t move at first, still watching Paige’s reaction before she finally stepped back, a small smile returning to her face. “I could eat.”

Paige nodded, breathing out through her nose as if Azzi stepping back gave her enough space to focus again. “Cool,” she said, bending down to reach for her towel. “Gimme a few to shower?”

Azzi just nodded as she walked over to grab her phone and keys from the bench.

Paige hesitated before she added, “You can come in if you want. Chill in the living room or whatever.”

“Yeah, sure,” Azzi said as she brushed her fingers through her hair, redoing her bun as they walked out of the gym together.

Paige flipped off the lights before shutting the door behind them. The early afternoon sun had warmed the path between Paige’s gym and the house and neither one of them spoke as they made their way across it.

Once they were inside Paige gestured down the hall. “Living room’s right through there. Think the remote’s on the couch.”

Azzi gave her a short nod and she watched as the blonde undid her bun and ran a hand through her damp hair before disappearing around the corner to head upstairs. There was something so effortlessly magnetic about her that Azzi couldn’t put her finger on.

She made her way into the living room, her footsteps soft against the wooden floors. She sank into the large cream colored couch, her body easily relaxing into the soft cushions as her gaze drifted around the space. The house was a modern Beverly hills home but it didn’t feel cold or unlived in.

There was a massive flat screen TV that was mounted on the fart wall with a PS5 mounted next to it. The TV was tucked between two tall shelves that held a mix of items. Some shelves were stacked with books while others had completed LEGO sets lined up and vinyls for a record player that sat nearby.

There was a collection of picture frames and Azzi leaned forward slightly, squinting to see them better from where she sat. A few of the pictures had Cam in them, the two of them in various settings: on a court, at what looked like a dinner, one with their arms slung around each other when they were younger at what looked like a family function. Other frames held what Azzi assumed was other family members. One picture showed Paige with a little girl on her back, both of them laughing.

Azzi’s eyes trailed to the large floor length curtained windows. Sunlight pressing softly against the cream fabric casting muted lines on the floor. The space felt personal.

She passed the time by scrolling on her phone, mindlessly switching between her apps. Azzi wasn’t sure of how much time had gone by when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and when she looked up Paige was back. She was dressed in black Essentials sweats and a fitted black tank top.

Azzi’s eyes took in her appearance before she smiled. “You love showing off your arms, huh?”

“We live in L.A.”

Azzi laughed softly as Paige walked fully into the living room and sat on the couch, leaning her weight against the armrest.

“You smell good.”

Normally, Paige would’ve brushed it off, letting the comment go unaddressed. This time she glanced at Azzi and offered a small, “Thank you.”

Azzi was momentarily caught off guard by the acknowledgement. She was used to Paige ignoring her compliments at this point.

Paige leaned back further into the couch, letting her arm drape over the edge. “You have a preference? Food-wise?”

Azzi gave her a look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who just worked out for, like, three and a half hours.”

Paige shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I already started cutting.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Cutting?”

Paige nodded, resting her phone against her thigh. “Yeah. I gotta drop back to 135.”

Azzi’s forehead creased, her confusion and curiosity reflexive. “What are you now?”

“I’m naturally like 140, 141,” Paige said. “Gotta be 135 at most for the fight tho.”

Azzi tilted her head, still confused. “Alright potential stupid question…why drop weight? Wouldn’t it make more sense to just fight at whatever weight you’re naturally at?”

Paige raised her eyebrows a little, clearly used to this question. “It doesn’t really work like that. Most fighters cut weight to compete in a lower class. Fighting up means you're probably giving up a lot of size, reach, strength. It’s doable, but you’re at a disadvantage most of the time.” Paige pauses before adding, “Think about it like me for example. I’m 141 dropping to 135. If I fought at 145 I’d prolly be fighting someone who’s naturally 151 dropping to 145. So they’d have 10 pounds on me naturally.”

“So 135 is...what weight class?” Azzi asked, shifting a little closer on the couch.

“Bantamweight,” Paige answered , taking a sip of water. “I can fight at featherweight too if I want—that’s 145. But most of the top girls in that division walk around way heavier than I do.”

Azzi nodded. “So you’ll drop, weigh in at 135, and then go back up?”

“Pretty much. It’s a game. Make weight, rehydrate, eat. You just hope the cut doesn’t drain you too much. It’s why I start earlier.”

Azzi’s eyes drifted away, still trying to wrap her head around the new information. “That sounds crazy. And the weigh-in is right before the fight?”

Paige shook her head. “Nah, usually the day before. Gives you time to recover a little.”

“So how many classes are there in the UFC?”

“For women? Four main ones. Strawweight, Flyweight, Bantamweight, and Featherweight,” Paige listed off easily. “Each one’s got killers. Every class plays out a little different depending on size and speed.”

Azzi glanced over at her. “You really know all this off the top of your head?”

Paige nodded. “I live it.”

Azzi smiled, letting the quiet admiration show on her face. “You know this is probably the most you’ve talked since we met, right?”

Paige glanced at her. “It’s easy to talk about.”

Azzi shifted again slightly on the couch, turning her body more toward Paige. “Yeah. I can tell it means a lot to you.”

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion before looking over. “It does.”

The room settled into a soft pause before Azzi nudged her knee lightly against Paige’s. “You just wanna order something?”

Paige glanced down at the slight contact before saying, “Up to you.”

Azzi grinned. “Dangerous last words.”

Paige shrugged, letting her arm drape over the back of the couch. “I trust you…Kinda.”

Azzi gave her a mock-offended look. “Kinda?”

“Let’s see what you pick first.”

Paige tossed her phone toward Azzi, who grabbed it from the couch cushion it landed on. She tucked her legs underneath her and began scrolling through DoorDash, her eyes scanning for something that caught her attention.

After a few minutes, she made a satisfied noise, picked something for herself and handed the phone back. “This one.”

Paige looked down at the screen, reading the choice. Her expression didn’t change as she glanced back up at Azzi. “You’re disgusting.”

Azzi laughed, unbothered. “God forbid an athlete tries to eat healthy.”

Paige shook her head, muttering under her breath as she navigated the app. “This isn’t healthy. It’s a crime.”

“I like what I like,” Azzi said with a big smile, clearly amused by Paige’s distaste.

Paige ended up ordering a BLTA for herself and then locked the phone, tossing it aside on the cushion. “I no longer trust you to pick a meal.”

Azzi smirked. “Shouldn’t have handed me your phone.”

Paige let out a soft huff of a laugh and leaned back again. “Mistakes were clearly made.”

Azzi mirrored Paige’s position, tilting her head back to rest against the back of the couch as she watched the side of Paige’s face. “So,” she said casually, “what do you usually do when you have people over?”

Paige didn’t glance over. “I don’t.”

“Like…ever?”

“Not really.” Paige said, tilting her head to look over at Azzi for a second. “Too much effort and they never know when to leave.”

Azzi smirked. “Sounds like you’ve had some interesting guests.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’ve had…mistakes.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Mistakes?” Her tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity in it. “You don’t do the whole casual thing?”

Paige shook her head. “Too much of a distraction. Not worth the trouble at the end of the day.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying her. “So what I’m hearing is that it’s just never been good enough?”

Paige's eyes stayed forward. “I didn’t say that.”

“If it was good enough, it’d be worth the trouble.”

Paige let out a laugh—more air than sound—but her face didn’t change. “You’re real confident for someone making a lot of assumptions.”

Azzi shrugged, eyes never leaving Paige. “You make it easy. You talk like someone who’s been disappointed one too many times.”

Paige let the comment hang in the air, deciding not to comment on it. “Tell me about you,” she said casually.

Azzi lifted her eyebrow. “What do you wanna know?”

Paige didn’t blink. “Whatever you wanna tell.”

So Azzi decides to talk to Paige about basketball. She shifted as she spoke, animated in a way Paige hadn’t seen before. Her hands moved when she talked about her parents, her eyes lighting up when she described the chaos of the backyard drills and unconventional training days—the time her mom saran wrapped her right arm to make her left better. Paige listened, barely speaking, but her expressions—however small—gave her away. A faint smirk at the saran wrap story, subtle eye contact at the ACL details, a quiet nod when Azzi described the mental weight of the recovery.

When Azzi got to the part about winning a championship, her voice softened just a little, like the memory carried a kind of stillness in her heart. “It made everything feel worth it,” she said, gaze lingering on the wall for a moment before glancing back at Paige. “Every surgery, every rehab session…all of it.”

Before Paige could respond, the doorbell rang. She stood up to grab the food, muttering something about “terrible timing” that earned a smile from Azzi. She sat back down, gave Azzi her food and they started to eat as the conversation picked up again. This time with Paige asking more, drawing Azzi out on certain moments, adding dry comments here and there that made Azzi laugh. Comments that made Azzi glance at her like she was trying to figure her out in a new way.

After she grew tired of talking about herself Azzi finished a bite of her sandwich and asked, “What about you? What made you get into fighting?” She knew the basics from Cam, how Paige’s dad had introduced her to the sport. Still, she wanted to hear it from Paige herself.

Paige glanced at her, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back against the couch. She didn’t answer right away, her eyebrows moving very slightly as she thought about what to say.

“I’m sure Cam’s told you I can be a bit…” she trailed off, lips tugging to the side as she searched for the right word. ���Ill-tempered sometimes.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, amused more by Paige’s dry delivery than the admission itself. “That’s one way to put it.”

Paige chuckled slightly, her gaze dropping to the space between them. “My dad noticed it early on. Instead of riding me about it or trying to fix it the way most parents might, he found me something I could throw it into. Said I needed an outlet. Fighting made the most sense.”

Azzi nodded, chewing slowly as she took the information in. “Where’d the ‘ill-temperament’ come from?”

Paige was quiet for a moment but her posture or expression didn’t change. “When I was younger, my parents used to argue a lot. I’m talking loud, ugly shit. Eventually they split. I think I was around fourteen. Fifteen maybe.” She cleared her throat like it might push away the weight of the memory. “I was pissed at my mom for a while for leaving. Didn’t matter that it was probably the right choice or that she was doing the best she could. At that age, anger sort of…replaces any logic.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt, just turned more toward her as she listened.

“We’re good now though…really good, actually. But back then? I was just mad. At everything. Fighting gave me somewhere to put it.”

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion again, eyes moving up toward the ceiling for a second. “I don’t know why I still got a temper now, honestly. Maybe I just got hit in the head too many times.”

To her surprise, Azzi let out a soft laugh before adding, “You probably shouldn’t joke about that,” giving Paige a playful nudge with her knee.

Paige smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she glanced at her. “I’ll live.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, but her smile lingered. “Sure. Just don’t start forgetting things mid-conversation and we’ll be good.”

“I do that already,” Paige deadpanned, reaching for her water. “So if I forget your name tomorrow, don’t take it personal.”

Azzi tilted her head, grinning. “I’ll just remind you. Over and over and over.”

Paige gave her a sideways look shaking her head a little.

Azzi leaned her head back against the couch, eyes scanning Paige’s face. “You feel ready for the fight?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, arms folding loosely across her stomach. “No,” she admitted. “But I got two and a half weeks to be ready.”

Azzi tilted her head with genuine curiosity. “What makes you not ready?”

Paige shifted, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her water bottle. “Still gotta drop a few more pounds,” she said, then added, “And I’ve only watched a couple of her fights. I don’t have a feel for her tells yet.”

“Why aren’t you watching more then?”

Paige glanced over, adding dryly. “You’re here.”

Azzi gave a one-shouldered shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching. “We can watch it.”

There was a small stretch of silence before Paige asked, “You sure?” Searching Azzi’s face like she didn’t expect the offer.

Azzi nodded once. “Yeah.”

Paige grabbed the remote from the coffee table, her voice a little quiet as she said, “Bet,” before turning on the TV. A beat passed before she pulled up the fight footage, scrolling through a few thumbnails before selecting one.

They watched in near silence, the commentary barely registering as Paige sat forward, forearms resting on her thighs, eyes locked on the screen like she was studying a puzzle no one else could solve. The glow of the TV danced against her features, her a little jaw tense. Expression completely unreadable.

Every so often, Azzi would ask a question. Sometimes pointing at something, sometimes just tilting her head in confusion and Paige would answer, not unkindly, but with the same flat focus she gave the fight. Her replies were short, sometimes dry, offering, “No, that’s not a choke.” Or, “That’s awful footwork, she’s baiting herself.” But she never ignored Azzi, never brushed her off which didn’t go unnoticed by the brown eyed girl. If anything, she kept rewinding the footage as if each question helped her think differently.

Paige replayed one sequence three times in a row. “She drops her left every time she throws a hook,” she mumbled more to herself than to Azzi, gesturing with the remote. “Wide open for a counter.”

Azzi nodded slowly, starting to follow the things Paige was explaining to her. At one point she squinted at the fighter in question. “Why does she drop her hands when she lands?” she asked after a few seconds.

Paige blinked over at her. “What?”

Azzi pointed at the screen, her voice reflecting her curiosity. “Right after she hits clean, like you call it. She does this little—" she mimicked it, “—like, a half shrug or flex.”

Paige narrowed her eyes and rewound the clip, watching it again. Going back to other timeframes where she remembered a hit landing. The girl would land a crazy combo and sure enough, right after a hook. There was a split-second drop of her hands, almost like a flash of her arrogance, a cocky shoulder roll.

Paige stared for a moment, then tilted her head in complete confusion at something so obvious. “…What the fuck,” she whispered, almost too low for Azzi to hear. “That’s a rhythm break.”

Azzi smiled slightly at the thought of helping Paige a little

Paige didn’t say anything right away, she just rewound and played the moment back a few more times, in disbelief. “It’s so fucking obvious that I didn’t even see that. That’s...that’s stupid, but it’s useful.” She sat back slightly, her eyebrows raised in thought. “She’s gonna eat a hook doing that shit.”

Azzi leaned her head against the couch, watching Paige more than the screen now. “Guess I’m good for something.”

Paige didn’t look over, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Remind me to bring you to film more often.”

Azzi smiled at that, but didn’t respond. Instead, she let the silence settle between them again, the commentary of the fight filling the space. Paige suddenly exhaled and sank back into the couch, her posture finally relaxing.

“You always like this before a fight?” Azzi asked softly, not necessarily teasing her, just curious about getting to know her mannerisms.

Paige glanced over at her, her eyes more reflective than defensive. “I don’t know. Guess I just get quiet. Try to lock in.”

Azzi nodded. “You’re intense.”

“Takes one to know one.”

That made Azzi laugh, but it was quieter this time. She shifted to face Paige fully, resting her arm on the back of the couch behind her. “You ever get scared?”

Paige’s eyes moved back to the screen, then down to her hands resting on her thighs. “Not of getting hit,” she said eventually. “I trained too long for that. I’m more afraid of...not being good enough. Not being who I expect myself to be.”

The room went a little still after that. Not in a bad way, just honest.

Azzi’s voice dropped, almost hesitant to break the moment. “That’s a lot to carry.”

Paige gave a small nod, the flicker of an emotion crossing her face. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s fingers moved, brushing along the back of the couch, close to Paige’s shoulder but not touching her. “Well,” she said after a moment, “for what it’s worth…you’re one of the few people I’ve ever watched and thought, ‘yeah, she’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing.’”

Paige turned her head to look at her and their eyes met for a moment. Almost like Paige was studying Azzi. When she finally spoke her voice was low, “You don’t even like fighting.”

Azzi tilted her head. “No. But I kinda like you so.”

The shift in their positioning was subtle. A slight lean of Azzi’s body toward hers, and the way Paige didn’t pull back. Just sat there, watching her like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with what she was thinking, but she wasn’t going to stop it either.

Paige’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer before drifting back to the screen. “You’re easy to be around.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the words and by how Paige said them. Almost like they hadn’t meant to come out, or like she’d practiced saying them in her head but couldn’t bring herself to look at Azzi when she said them.

Azzi smiled softly and teased Paige a little saying, “That was sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Paige added dryly, trying to wrap humor around something that wasn’t really a joke.

“Too late.”

Paige didn’t say anything back—not because she didn’t have a response, but because that was her response.

After a while, the room settled into another comfortable stillness, broken only by the occasional shifting of weight on the couch as they talked. But outside, the sun started to disappear and Azzi glanced at her phone, sighing as she sat up slightly.

“I should go. I gotta be up early. Flight to Connecticut tomorrow.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away, just watched Azzi. “Who you play?”

“Connecticut. Then the Mystics, and the Sky before we come back.”

Paige nodded slowly. “I’ll watch.”

Azzi grinned at this. “You will?”

Paige just looked at her with that same unreadable expression. “Yeah.”

They walked out together, the air cooler than what it was earlier in the day. When they got to Azzi’s car, she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start the engine right away as she looked back at Paige, whose hand was resting on the door handle.

“I’ll text you,” Azzi said softly..

Paige gave a small nod. “Alright.” She hesitated for half a second, then gently pushed the car door closed for her.

Azzi lingered behind the window for just a moment, gaze meeting Paige’s again through the glass. Then she gave a small wave before turning on the car and shifting into reverse.

Paige stood near her car and watched Azzi disappear down the path.

…

For the first few days of Azzi’s road trip, they stayed in touch. Not constantly, but enough to be in the loop of one another’s day. Enough to miss it when it started to fade.

They would exchange texts after workouts or games, quick check-ins.

Azzi [12:19 PM]:

almost broke my ankle on a mop left on the court during shoot around

wanna come fight the janitor for me?

Paige [12:21 PM]:

i’ll pull up

being gloves for both of us

Another time after Paige had just finished sparring.

Paige [1:23 PM]:

heads still attached..barely

how’s your shot today?

Azzi [1:40 PM]:

clean. unlike your footwork probably

They even shared a call on the third night. Azzi had dialed on a whim, not expecting much. But Paige answered, the background noise of her gym speakers still playing music behind her voice.

“You’re still there?” Azzi asked, settling back in her hotel bed.

“Yeah,” Paige replied, slightly breathless. “Didn’t think you were the type to call.”

“Didn’t think you’d answer,” Azzi shot back, but the smile in her voice gave her away.

They talked for fifteen minutes—about nothing, really. Just talked.

But by the fifth and sixth day, Paige had gone quiet.

No text. No post-training recap. No response when Azzi sent her something from her game.

It was like she’d disappeared from the face of the earth.

Currently the cabin buzzed faintly with the quiet hum of the team plane and the occasional shuffle of movement from teammates. Azzi sat in her seat, her legs stretched out in front of her and her phone resting on her thigh, screen blank.

Across the aisle, Cam noticed the shift in her energy, even before Azzi pulled her headphones off.

“Hey,” Azzi said, her voice a little quiet to not disturb anyone else as she leaned over. “You heard from Paige?”

Cam looked up from the tablet she was watching film on. “Yeah talked to her a couple of days ago. Why?”

Azzi gave a small shrug, too casual to be real. “Just wondering. Haven’t really heard from her the past few days.”

Cam studied her expression for a moment. Head tilting and eyes narrowing like she was trying to read something off Azzi’s face. “You guys been talking?”

Azzi hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah a little.”

Cam’s expression softened—not into pity, but something close. Like she understood something Azzi wasn’t saying yet. She glanced at Azzi’s phone, then back at her.

“I told you she gets like this sometimes,” she offered gently. “Goes quiet. Especially when she’s locked in. Fight’s in a little over a week.”

Azzi nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah,” she murmured, her gaze drifting out the window, even though the clouds outside were too high and white to offer her anything.

“Since you can’t pop up at her house like I’d usually suggest…just call her when we get to the hotel tonight.”

Azzi let out a short breath, more of a quiet exhale than anything. “I’ve already text her a few times.”

“She probably hasn’t even seen them,” Cam told her. “She keeps her call ringer on, but turns off notifications for messages ”

Azzi nodded at that, letting the information settle.

Cam studied her for another moment. Then she smiled a little wide. “You like her, don’t you?”

Azzi blinked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“I thought you were fucking around before. Just attracted to her like everyone else,” Cam said. “But you actually like her.”

Azzi didn’t answer nor look at her right away. Her fingers tapped her phone once before going still in her lap. There wasn’t a need for her to say it out loud. But still she looked at Cam and said quietly, “Yeah. I do.”

Cam surpassingly didn’t tease her. She just nodded, like she understood the small weight of Azzi saying that. Then she went back to watching film on her iPad and Azzi went back to listening to music.

When they landed and Azzi got settled into her hotel room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in hand. Cam’s words echoed in her head, and for a minute, she just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Paige’s name in her recent contacts. She sighed before she tapped the call button.

It rang three times before a slightly breathless voice came through. “Hey.”

Azzi smiled faintly when she heard her voice. “Hi, stranger.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige said, her voice still a little uneven, the background music muffled but noticeable.

Azzi’s eyebrows pinched together slightly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing just hitting,” she muttered.

Azzi pulled the screen back just long enough to glance at the time. “At 11 at night?”

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, her voice a little distant again like she’d pulled the phone away or was pacing.

It went quiet between them for a moment. Then Paige’s voice cut through more clipped than usual. “You need something?”

Azzi got a little tense at the tone, recognizing the edge in it but choosing not to meet it with her own. “You went a little MIA the past two days.”

There was another pause. Azzi could almost hear Paige slowing down on the other end, just slightly. But the silence stretched for so long it made Azzi think maybe Paige hadn’t heard her

But then—“I’m sorry,” Paige said again, a little softer this time. “Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Azzi shook her head, adjusting the phone against her ear as she sank back into the pillows. “What’s going on?”

The other end of the line went quiet again, just the faint sound of Paige’s breathing which was slower now, like she’d finally stopped moving. Azzi waited patiently.

Then came a low exhale. “Just been in my head too much.”

Azzi let the silence stretch for a second before asking gently, “You wanna talk about it?”

There was a dry laugh from Paige. “Not much to talk about.”

“You’re in your head, aren’t you?” Azzi challenged her.

The silence that followed gave Azzi her the answer. She shifted again, pulling the hotel comforter over her legs. “What are you in your head about?”

It took Paige a few seconds to respond, but when she did, her voice was quieter than usual.

“No matter how ready you feel,” she said, “there’s still the nerves...the slight fear of stepping in the cage with somebody whose only goal is beating your ass. Knock you out if they can.”

Azzi nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she realized Paige was opening up. She could still hear Paige’s slight breathlessness on the other end of the line, could picture her wiping sweat from her forehead, standing somewhere in the middle of the gym, hands probably still wrapped.

"On the bright side,” Azzi said lightly, “that’s your goal too, right? Just beat her ass first.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh, the first genuine one Azzi had heard all call. “Fair.”

A beat passed, then Azzi asked, more seriously this time, “Does this one feel any different?”

“No, not really,” she said slowly. “I just know she’s arrogant. Got something to prove, so she’s gonna come in heavy. Probably try to make it a statement match.”

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, her eyes tracing the soft lines in the hotel ceiling. “Then just remind yourself of who you are. Of how you said you don’t step in there unless you know you’re walking out.”

There was a small pause on the other end—then a subtle shift in Paige’s breathing. The heaviness that had stuck to her voice since answering the call started to fall away.

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice steadier now. “You’re right.”

Azzi smiled faintly. “So if you know who you are and what you can do…what’s going on?”

Paige took a long breath before replying. “Before every fight, you gotta get over that hump,” she admitted. “That mindset of knowing one hit…just one hit…could change your life forever. One hit hard enough, and it’s lights out.”

Azzi didn’t jump in to comment right away. She let the truth of the words settle between them, the weight of what Paige said. But she didn’t sound scared, she sounded like someone who knew the risks and still loved what she did.

Azzi shifted slightly under the covers, cradling the phone closer to her ear. Her voice was calm, like she didn’t want to spook whatever Paige was still untangling in her chest.

“What else?” she asked softly. “What else is in your head?”

Paige was quiet again, but it wasn’t like before. It wasn’t guarded this time—more like she was sifting through the noise, trying to find the right thread to pull on.

“…Just feels like a lot,” she said eventually. “The weight of being perfect. The expectations of staying undefeated. The pressure to show up like I’m bulletproof. The discipline it takes everyday. The diet. The sleep. The timing. You miss one thing and it shows. People think it’s just stepping in the cage and fighting but it’s not. It’s everything leading up to it that’s draining.”

Azzi nodded, even though Paige couldn’t see her. “Do you feel ready? Not physically, I mean. Mentally.”

“Some moments I do. Other moments I’m sitting in the gym at midnight because I convinced myself I’m behind.”

“But you’re not.”

“No,” Paige admitted. “I’m not. But that doesn’t stop my brain from trying to tell me I am.”

Azzi hummed quietly. “That voice’s a bitch.”

Paige let out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah. She is.”

Azzi’s voice was even gentler now as she asked, “What does she say?”

“That I’m not sharp enough yet. That I’m going to slip. That my timing’s off. That I don’t have it in me to push myself for the next week. That if I lose, it’s over.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Some days.” A short pause. “Other days, I just fight back harder.”

Azzi laid her head back, letting the silence stretch naturally. “You’re fighting it now, aren’t you?”

Paige didn’t respond for a moment. Then she offered up a quiet, “…Yeah.”

Azzi’s voice grew, steady as ever. “Good. Because she doesn’t know who the fuck she’s talking to.”

Paige opened and closed her mouth, like the words were fighting their way out of her. Then finally, she said, “Thanks…for this.”

Azzi blinked, her eyes still on the ceiling. “For what?”

“For listening. Letting me talk,” Paige whispered. “I’ve never really talked about this before.”

Azzi turned her head toward the phone. “Why not?”

Paige let out a faint breath. “Because if I told Cam, or anyone in my family…it’d just scare them. Make them worry even more than they already do. Everyone’s already on edge when I fight. If they knew what goes on in my head before it? It’d eat at them.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. She just listened and as the silence stretched, Paige took it as permission to keep going.

Her voice was quiet, but steady. “It’s not that I don’t trust them. I do, with my life. But it’s different when you’re the one in it. I don’t need someone to freak out for me. I just need…I don’t know. I guess I just need someone to sit with it without freaking out. Like you’re doing now.”

Azzi’s chest tightened a little. The sincerity in Paige’s voice, the vulnerability she was showing was rare. It made her want to reach through her phone and be there in person for this conversation. “I get that,” Azzi said quietly. “And I don’t mind sitting with it if it helps you.”

There was a soft rustling on the other end, like Paige had finally sat down somewhere. Azzi smiled and said, “Now, drag yourself out of the gym.”

Paige gave a quiet, amused sound. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Azzi teased. “Go put together one of those half-finished LEGO sets you were complaining about.”

Paige snorted. “They’re not half-finished, they’re…momentarily paused.”

“Mmhm,” Azzi said, clearly unconvinced. “Well pause the self-destruction and do something that doesn’t involve you punching a bag all night for once.”

Paige laughed a little but didn’t argue. “Alright. I’ll go build something.”

“You better,” Azzi said, already smiling. “And send me a picture of it so I know you didn’t just crawl in bed with a protein shake and call it a night.”

“You know me too well,” Paige mumbled.

“I’m starting to,” Azzi replied, smiling to herself in the empty hotel room in the middle of Chicago.

As the quiet between them settled into something calmer, Paige’s voice came through again. “Hey…I’m sorry again for going MIA. I just—” She gathers her thoughts. “I should’ve said something,” she added. “You played great the other day, by the way.”

Azzi sat up a little, caught off guard by the statement. “You watched it?”

There was the faintest smile in Paige’s voice when she answered and God Azzi wished she could see it in person. “I did.”

That single admission settled something in Azzi. She pressed further into the pillows and closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight, Azzi.”

The call ended, but the quiet lingered in Azzi’s room. Different now, almost warmer. Like something small had changed between them after the call.

[dynamichealthinsights]

How to Balance Exercise with a Busy Schedule: A Comprehensive Guide

Balancing exercise with a busy schedule is a challenge that many people face. Whether it’s work, family obligations, social events, or simply feeling drained at the end of a long day, finding time for fitness can feel impossible. However, consistent physical activity is crucial for maintaining not just physical health, but mental well-being, productivity, and overall life satisfaction. This guide…

[rockingbytheseaside]

I love your art and headcannons! I was wondering if you can do a headcannon for the harbingers with reader helping them with their work. Like helping pantalone with papers in his office or dottore with experiments or just passing tools to him?

✦ You help them at work (or how they just want you to stay around)

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone

✧ You felt heartbroken whenever Pierro relentlessly toiled as the Fatui Director. Hours spent at the imposing meeting halls of the Zapolyarny Palace or engaging in arduous negotiations for the organization's cause could hardly be enjoyable. Thus, concerned for your beloved’s well-being, you resolved to take on a more proactive role and assist The Jester on his behalf. 

“Today you will sit back and rest, Pierro. I will conduct your meetings… No buts or ifs.” 

The Harbinger blinked at you in wonder. Not because he disapproved of your presence, but because he vowed to work for your safety and comfort. However, you remained unyielding. Standing defiantly, with your hands on your hips, you announced that his stubborn protectiveness of you won’t change your mind. And who is he to deny you anyway? 

It seems you are the Fatui Director today. 

In his office, you meticulously tended to every minute detail. Whether it's preparing his tea, reorganizing essential documents, or double-checking all the archives and schedules. Any attempts from Pierro to assist would be met with you scolding him. And although he obediently stood back, he couldn’t help but smile fondly at your endearing sternness. If you take the lead, he is your loyal servant. Besides, whenever you conduct business negotiations on his behalf, things would always go accordingly (just don’t mind Pierro looming behind you, his icy glare threatening anyone you are talking with into obedience.) 

Once all was set and done, a sense of pride welled inside you, while Pierro mirrored your warm smile. You worked so hard to aid him… You just don’t have to know that he settled all difficult tasks in advance before you even entered his office. He was several steps ahead in everything, after all. Besides, he won’t argue when the result is him admiring your presence in his workplace. What truly matters now is the luxury of time to savor your love and hold you close without any worries about Fatui duties.

✧ When Il Capitano heard your suggestion to help, he felt worried. His work as a Captain required extreme physical exercise and was bodily taxing, regardless of the slower days when he overlooked the training of his specialized troops. Not only that but training under the strict regime of the 1st Fatui harbinger meant enduring a military-like attitude. And yet here you were, casually waving his worries off, promising to be an additional mentor training his soldiers.

“As long as you don’t wear yourself out, my loved one. It’s not just the fatigue and muscle soreness I worry about, but the attitude of my soldiers. They might not be as… lenient as you.” 

You soothed his concern every time he caressed your shoulder with worry or checked in on you. He was so tender when he was worried, you had to firmly hold his helmeted face and tell him sternly that everything would be alright. And how can he be worried when you smiled so easily at him? 

Thus, on the day of the soldiers’ training, Il Capitano introduced you as his equal and the additional instructor for today’s workout. You were such a stark contrast to the hard-faced troops who got used to battlefields and warfare. But you just stood there, waving casually… Perhaps you would fare well as the “forgiving substitute mentor”.

Alas, that was Capitano’s first mistake. 

Not an hour in, the group of soldiers you overlooked returned with bruises and distressed faces. Their gazes looked as if they saw unfathomable horrors, clutching their newly formed pains within their joints; the once stoic Fatui soldiers now flinched like children. When the Harbinger arrived to inspect, it seemed his worries were misplaced. Instead of you he should’ve been concerned about, he was now witnessing his troop being subjugated to merciless yelling from you as if his men never knew how to hold a weapon. 

That day, The Harbinger’s soldier begged him to never bring you as a substitute trainer again. At the very least, they never slacked off after that, in fear you might be brought back. Although secretly, The Harbinger could not deny his admiration. Who knew someone as cheerful and easygoing as his beloved would turn into a war machine when required? Your prowess never alluded him, but it definitely reminded him of your hidden allure to the smitten Captain.

“My moon and star, I am uncertain whether I can bring you back to my work once more. However, you must display your teaching methods in a spar for me in private, one-on-one.” 

✧ It wasn't at your suggestion that you found yourself in Il Dottore's laboratory, nor did he seek your assistance directly. Instead, it was one of his subordinates who came knocking on your door, bowing low. You were well aware of your beloved's tendency to hyper-fixate on his scientific endeavors, not welcoming any outside help that might divert his attention from his work. Nevertheless, a scowl crossed your face as you observed the desperate plea of the Fatui worker, imploring your aid.

“Please, I know I have no right to ask for anything, but you must help. The Doctor snaps at anyone who even breathes the wrong way. One wrong move and a scalpel will come flying straight at them. There is no other way to persuade our Lord Harbinger!”

You hummed wistfully but nodded - “I mean… I can help. Just bear in mind, I am no lab assistant. My aid will be minimal, but if it’s for Dottore, then I see where the issue lies.”

Thus, you found yourself paying an unexpected visit to your sweet Doctor’s lab. Precisely at the moment when one of his fiery reprimands was being delivered, a series of loud crashes reverberated from the imposing lab gates. Dottore was in the midst of an enraged explanation to his subordinates on why the rare Phlogiston from Natlan must not be wasted in excess when experimenting, his hand crashing on the metallic counter loudly.

“And if I found that any of you fools mishandles the Phlogiston, you will-”

“Will what?” Your voice interrupted, the Fatui assistant saw you approach from behind the Harbinger with your hands clasped behind your back. “What will happen, you said?”

Dottore froze. At your familiar voice, he casually turned to check on you, as if your mere presence in his workplace was an anomaly. Whatever lab tool or flask he was gripping was carefully put in its place. “Nothing. Nothing will happen, dear.” 

Hence, you chose to remain and offer assistance this time. Or rather, you quietly oversaw his laboratory work, providing minimal help without disrupting the actual scientific processes. You might argue that you hardly did anything that day, but the Fatui assistants? They were silently praying to the Tsaritsa’s merciful act of bringing a saint over here. Because the second your presence was known in this bleak, desensitized lab, Il Dottore’s attitude changed by a mile. 

He no longer snapped, slammed his fist onto counters, or even spoke loudly to his underlings. He suddenly turned tame. If he commanded something, and you interfered with his words, he would obediently change his mind as if you were the indisputable superior here.

“This testing is insufficient. We must retry it and double down on the sample for quicker efficiency-”

“Well, no, it's already late and it will be better to revise this experiment tomorrow.” - you stated simply, to which Dottore parroted with no hesitation. 

“You're right. It is late. The experiment will be revised tomorrow.” 

It's safe to say, the Fatui subordinates were left gawking that day. The formerly harsh and impatient doctor had transformed into a compliant child, allowing himself to proceed at a leisurely pace and follow your lead. Moreover, a simple touch on his shoulder from you or a soft smile would swiftly dissipate all his tension whenever he felt agitated. Not to mention you coaxed him to finish shift earlier for everyone. 

You should visit more frequently.

✧ Scaramouche hated having you help around in his work as a Lord Harbinger. Not because of your genuine consideration and effort, but because now he has to witness his foolish Fatui soldiers act all naive and joyous when you were around. 

Amidst a bustling workday of handling documents, gathering information, and conducting training sessions, time flew by effortlessly whenever you took charge. And the rest of the Balladeer’s subordinates adored you. You were easier to talk to, provided clear guidance, and attentively addressed any concerns affecting the mission or the staff. This stood in stark contrast to the Balladeer's snarky commands and derisive demeanor.

Alas, this is not why Scaramouche was standing with crossed arms, clenching his fists. One of the Fatui skirmishers was getting too comfortable with you as commander. Worst of all, your graceful smile was bestowed upon them, not him when he literally stood behind you. 

“Today's work has been completed.” - Lord Harbinger Scaramouche stated to his underlings. “You're dismissed. Now scram before I see any of your faces.” 

As the day progressed, you barely had a second to sit down, before a pair of slim arms encircled your waist tightly. Perhaps too tightly. Scaramouche’s face hung low on the crook of your shoulder, while his body pressed to your back with a mumbled grumble. - “Hm? What is it, Scara? I thought you were satisfied with the work done early.” 

"Don't waste your time helping the lazy fools. You’re supposed to stay with me a little while longer.” 

✧ Upon offering your assistance in advance, Pantalone's joyful grin would expand tenfold, reminiscent of a schoolboy eagerly welcoming his crush into his home. He would excitedly pace around, discussing arrangements to ensure your comfort. He'll bring your favorite beverages, perhaps some snacks, cancel all meetings so you'll have his undivided attention… 

“Pantalone, I said I will be there to help. Not go on a date.” 

But his head is not listening. Because once the day arrives and you begin to stride around in his office, he would remain stationary. Watching you with an adoring smile, hands clasped together. Whatever paperwork he was supposed to analyze was forgotten, and suddenly the 9th of the Fatui Harbingers forgot his own signature when you're around.

“Pantalone, are you listening? I reorganized these financial reports. And don't forget to reread the clauses in these receipts too… Are you still with me?” 

Yet all he could do was sit there and smile at how fondly you looked as a boss in his office. “...Yes dear.” 

You sighed deeply, knowing well he wouldn't accomplish any work today. However, after some gentle persuasion and the passage of time, you miraculously managed to guide your beloved into a state of complete concentration on his work. He sat behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork and skimming over documents. Adjusting his silver glasses, he then beckoned to you.

“Sweetheart? Could you step over here for a moment? I need you to review the numbers on these financial reports before I approve them. And your attention to detail has always been exceptional.”

You casually obliged, stepping next to his mahogany desk to look over the figures in the paper. Leaning over, you began reading, but Pantalone had other ideas. 

“Oh, this might be uncomfortable for you, dear. Come, sit here.”

Before you know it, you're pulled right over his armchair to plop comfortably onto his lap. And while you managed to determine that there was nothing faulty or inconsistent in the financial reports he is holding, you discerned his clever ploy - “Pantalone, these papers are already signed. There's nothing wrong with them.” 

However your beloved only beamed in triumph, his hands putting down the papers and coming to secure your place in his lap. 

“Oh, Is that so? Well, you’re already sitting here and it’s so comfortable. You can’t blame my longing for your continued presence, darling.” 

I’m still alive, I swear! Just busy exploring Natlan. Hope I didn’t sway too far off from the main suggestion with this fanfic. Thank you for reading ❣

[aninipanin1]

Hihi, here is some food for thought, albeit rather niche!

Ex-Professional Footballer Young Manager who agrees to play as a substitute player in a match in exchange for a major business sponsor for Blue Lock, and suddenly was absent from the Blue Lock Facility for a week because of it. The Blue lock boys (who didn't know about her football background bc she didn't think it was anything impressive compared to their achievements in Blue lock) panicking thinking Ego locked her off, only to end up learning the truth and watching (fanboying over) her match.

STRIKER OF THE HEART AND GAME

Notes: Yall never fail to give me the most, diabetic and tooth-decaying ideas to write. Theyre all so sweet, and I love reading ALL your asks.

"Good luck, Y/n-chan! You can do it!" Anri cheered beside you, watching you put on your cleats and gloves inside the sports bag as you sat on the tiles ground of Ego's office.

Speaking of the man, he had his back on you, eyes focused on the CCTV cameras around the facility as he watched the players practice in their own respective stratums and places. He was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, opposite of the pounding of your heart just thinking about playing the sport once again.

Well, its not like Ego is about to be subbed in a team as its center midfielder where he has no prior knowledge or experience playing with, and being expected to dominate nonetheless.

"Thank you, Anri-san! Um...I'll try my best."

"Why are you nervous, Y/n-chan?"

A squeak was heard from Ego's swivel chair, as the man turned around to face you, his eyes disapproving and empty as it always looked. He stood up before folding his upper half forward to meet your eyes.

"You are in Blue Lock. A team already passed the average-at-best standard and world of Japan. Even if you are a manager here, you know the key to awaken your true capability, you know your own ego and strengths. Use them, use them wisely. I chose you as the manager of this place for a reason."

You looked at the man, your main mentor ever since you have been in this place with a smile. One large enough to brighten up your whole face. You know that even if his words came out somewhat harsh, this is his way of caring. Having seen it time and time again with how he interacted with the Blue Lockers, it was his way of comforting and at the same time looking out for your pre-game morale.

"Of course, Ego-san! I'll win this game!"

And with that, you headed out of the facility, inside one of the buses provided by the higher-ups and started the journey to where the match will be held.

"Y/n-chan! Let's eat lunch togeth- Eh? Y/n-chan?"

Shidou burst through your office door, ready to jump and hug you, and hopefully, have you join him in the cafeteria to eat lunch. But to his surprise, you were not there.

You would always be there when it was lunchtime, writing down some things or eating away in the confines of the room. But today, you were nowhere to be seen.

Shrugging, the striker just hopped his way to the cafeteria, thinking that you may be there. But to his chagrin, you also were not there. Shidou started to get a bit upset and sad, after all, he has not seen you for hours! He needs his daily dose of Y/n.

"Hey, has any of you guys seen Y/n? I haven't seen her since breakfast. She told me she'd help me schedule my workouts." The blonde heard Karasu talking with the other PXG members in the cafeteria.

But much to their worries, everyone seemed to be experiencing the same thing. No one has seen you since you entered the cafeteria to eat breakfast, and that was very unlike you. You would usually be walking around the facility, helping with the players and staff or even accomplishing your never ending responsibilities and tasks.

"Hmm, maybe she is just busy in her office? Or with Ego-san? We know how her work piles up aomost every second. I feel bad for her." Nanase answered Karasu's inquiry. His theory was not that farfetched and could possibly be true if Shidou did not just went there a few minutes ago.

"She isn't in her office, headband. I tried to look for her everywhere, but she isnt here."

"Not even in a different stratum?" Karasu added.

"Dunno. Didn't check."

"Then don't assume, idiots. She's probably in the other stratums-" But Karasu was cut off when their door to the cafeteria opened to reveal Reo who looked a bit panicked.

"Has any of you guys seen Y/n-chan around in your stratum?"

"Er, no. Why?"

"Then she's really missing. I've been running around the other stratums to ask if they've seen her anywhere but she is nowhere! You guys are the last place I asked and...well you get the idea."

Now that made all of them panic, where were you?!

Looking around at each other, they nodded as if they thought the same thing at the same time. There was definitely only one person who knows where you are.

Welp, time to go to Ego's office.

"What?" The man said, annoyed and a bit angry at the accusatory questions. Well, it was not accusatory but the thought of doing what the players were saying made him feel like they think he was dumb.

"Was she kicked out and we'll get a new manager?!" Reo said, panicking.

"What?! No, Y/n-chan is the best. You can't do that!" Charles said, frowning heavily. His teeth bared as if he was ready to bite Ego if he did confirm he kicked you out.

"Oi, four eyes if you kicked her out, I will kick you literally." Shidou threatened.

"Did she leave us here?" Rin said. Even if his voice sounded neutral and cold, there was a slight crack that indicated he was absolutely heartbroken if that was the case.

"No, you idiots. She didn't leave, nor did I kick her out. I am not dumb and she pampers you all too much for her to just leave." Ego rolled his eyes at the overdramatic and outlandish thoughts they had. Instead, he turned his swivel chair to face the monitors that were mounted on the wall.

"She is out for the week. She has to play in some matches. Unfortunately, no is not an option since it was tue JFU's decision. Now leave and go back to training, or else someone will indeed be kicked out of this place, and it's not her. Now go."

This definitely made the PXG team's (and Reo's) ears perk up in interest. You? Playing in a match? In a football match?! Holy cow, why did they not know? Or better yet, why did you not tell them?

That afternoon, most of the PXG members huddled together as they searched your game in the tablet provided in Blue Lock. And to no one's surprise, it was currently live, and the game is just about to start.

Meanwhile, in the Manshine stratum, Reo dragged both Nagi and Chigiri in their rooms and prepared the tablet.

"What are we even watching, Reo? I wanna play." Nagi mumbled on the pillow, laying down on the purple-haired male's bed stomach down, Chigiri who sat down on his bed as well nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't mind. But it's not that important, is it." Reo looked offended when Chigiri even tried to insinuate that the match was not important.

"What do you mean not important?! Y/n-chan is going to play as their midfielder! Its the most important thing ever! We're already lacking because we're not there at all to support her! So we have to support her from here."

Now that got Chigiri to straighten up, and Nagi awake, both their eyes wide. They thought it would just be a normal exhibition match. But Reo did not mention you would be playing! Then maybe they would have immediately paid attention.

"You mean Y/n-chan is playing?!" Chigiri said in shock.

"Y/n-chan...I want to watch...!" Nagi said, for the first time paying attention to something, his once half-lidded eyes wide awake and focused on the screen of the tablet.

"Yeah! I didn't tell you?" Reo asked to which he just got a pillow thrown on his face, courtesy of Chigiri.

"No, you dumbass! Just start playing the live, geez."

Needless to say, the two teams even forgot to eat their dinner just to see the end of your match was an understatement. The members were too focused on their screens.

Charles, Rin, Shidou, Chigiri, Reo, and even sometimes Nagi would be muttering curses and mean words towards your teammates who would fail to receive the ball that you so graciously give them from the midfield. There were even times when you would give it to them in a place optimal for a goal, with a pass that even an amateur can score a goal with but they would still miss.

"That number 9 is a fucking idiot." Rin rolled his eyes.

"Number 9? You mean number 21! She is the worst striker I have ever seen! Hmph! If I was (nickname) I would never pass to her!" Charles said throwing his fists up in the air.

"Why is she even the striker? Y/n-chan should have been the striker, and instead, she's stuck at the midfield." Karasu commented.

"Poor Y/n-chan. The enemy team is already ahead of 2 points, and they still have none." Tokimitsu said the moment he saw your face when the camera panned at you. You looked stressed and a bit annoyed at your incompetent teammates.

"If I was her, I would have probably punched that number 21 girl." Shidou said with the angriest face anyone has seen him. After all, they were strikers, and they know a good pass when they see one. Yours were absolutely perfect every time, and if they received a pass like that, they would never waste it away by being locked by the goalkeeper orget stolen by the other team.

The Manshine players were not fairing well either. Reo was clenching the poor blanket too harsh in anger at their strikers and even the defenders and midfielders for leaving you alone at times and not syncing with your smart plans.

"Absolutely horrendous!! Why didn't they go there?! Even an idiot would know that Y/n-chan lured the other team's players there for a reason!" Reo complained.

"They're absolutely brainless at the game." Chigiri rolled his eyes, although he did feel a little amused that someone like Reo, who is usually a gentleman to girls, throwing curse words at the players.

"Hmm...I would be so happy if Y/n-chan gave me a perfect pass like that. She would even clear up some of the defenders just so number 21 or nymber 10 can score a goal." Nagi commented, a frown on his face, not liking that your team was losing.

But of course, when you make a mistake, its forgivable. Like the one time you received the ball a bit sloppily, mainly because you were growing tired.

"Well duh, of course she would miss. She's tired of carrying the whole team on her shoulders." Reo said.

In the dying minutes of the game, with only less than 10 minutes left, with the score being 2-0 in favour of the opposing team, you seemed to have had enough. You became a ballhog, dribbling like a pro against the defenders and midfielders, using your teammates as shields just for you to score a goal.

And let's just say that if Ego was not watching the match as well, he would have scolded the two teams for screaming like wild animals when you scored.

"Now that's a goal you fucking idiots!" Shidou laughed and jumped like a monkey along with Charles.

"She's the only decent player, which sucks." Rin rolled his eyes.

Some of the members of your team ran to congratulate with you, but instead of celebrating, you turned to the striker who looked a bit annoyed that you did not pass to her and scored yourself.

"If you can't do your work as a striker. Then I will do it and score. Do me a favour and get out of my way, that's the least you can do to help this team win."

Everyone was silent after you said it with a straight and emotionless face, just watching you walk away to your place in the court. To say that the striker was pissed was an understatement. She was the striker of this team for more than three years now! She was also older than you, meaning she deserved respect, and you had the audacity? You were just an intern, a replacement of their midfielder.

The other team members were split into two. Some who are close to the striker immediately sided with her and started to glare at you, while some who really wanted to win were more on your side, but they decided to just stay neutral and continue playing.

Until the end of the game, you were a ballhog, passing scarcely to avoid it being stolen by the enemies.

'Tsk, at least some of the defenders in this team are decent.'

Doing a quick roulette on the defender in front of you and immediately holding the shoulder of the one to your left. You squinted your eyes and shot another goal, this time it had a bit of curve to it that the goalkeeper did not read so it resulted into another miracle goal, or atleast thats what they called it because there was only 2 minutes left in the game.

Everyone in the stadium were on their feet, even the commentators stood up shouting in their mic in amazement.

"What...WHAT A GOAL!! THE INFAMOUS MANAGER OF BLUE LOCK HERSELF, Y/N L/N, SCORED A MIRACLE GOAL! A GOAL THAT EQUALIZES HER TEAM!"

In the end, there came an additional time but unfortunately, no goal came. After all, you were tired beyond belief as stamina had always been your problem and hence why you do not play much anymore.

So, it came to penalties. You managed to score your own penalty, but to say that your other teammates flopped was an understatement. The other team, however, managed to score 2 penalty goals, hailing them the winner of the match.

The boys, who watched in the Blue Lock facility, were more than pissed of course. You lost because of those stupid teammates of yours that dragged you down. The worst part is that they know you can produce better plays if only your teammates can catch up to it.

Ego, who waa watching remained neutral as ever, while Anri was gripping her hair in annoyance.

"It can't be helped. This is why we are striving to change Japanese football, Anri-chan." Ego said.

In the locker room, you remained quiet and neutral as always as you took a shower and changed into your normal clothes. But as you did, the striker of the team came out, her face contorted in annoyance.

"We lost because you were a fucking ballhog. Why couldn't you just pass the ball to me or Hana over here? Heck even to Aiyo-"

"Not really. We lost because none of you scored your penalties. Even if not all of you did, if only some of you did, we could have won. My ballhog move was for the best, after all, it was the one that scored us two points and equalized us. It was even the reason we got to play longer." You said with a straight face, just saying facts. But to the others, especially to the striker, you were bragging about being the best in the team and dissing their skills which pissed her off more.

If it was not for the manager walking in, the situation would have gotten worse. Thankfully, the manager was not any of the players as he congratulated and thanked you for your hat trick. And said, it was very much impressive seeing as the opposing team was one of the strongest in Japan.

"It's nothing, sir. I still had fun playing. Thank you."

With one last bow you left them to themselves.

"Why did you not tell us about this?!" Isagi said, mad and horrified. The other two teams did not tell them that you were playing matches and that you did one yesterday and he did not get to watch it?!

"Yeah! Chigiri, you're so mean!" Bachira said with a pout, while Niko just agreed.

"I'll tell Ubers about this. They have another one tomorrow right?"

"Yeah. At 7:30 pm. We wanted to support Y/n-chan even if we're stuck here. But be aware, her team is so shit it gets annoying and that Y/n is the only carrying that team. So yeah..." Chigiri said to which Isagi just shrugged.

"Oh, it can't be that bad, right?"

Oh, how wrong he was. Wednesday came, and all the teams all camped in a meeting room (inside the Bastard Munchen stratum) and set up the live (they managed to convince Ego, which was surprising but knowing his favouritism towards you, it was not that surprising).

At first, it was just the Blue Lockers, but when Kaiser, along with Ness, entered the meeting room, they were a little curious.

"Leave, Kaiser." Isagi rolled his eyes, to which the German just smirked.

"Oh, but I heared little Y/n will be playing a game. I want to watch how she does, of course."

Now, the meeting room was crowded as hell. Even some of the masters went to watch, for God's sake. The moment the match started, the whole pace was quiet down, and everyone's attention was on the screen of the large tv.

You got the ball early in the game as you dribbled past the midfielders and decided to give the strikers one chance to prove if they'll be worth passing to in this match.

You decided to give a curved pass accurate to where number 21 was, till now you did not really have any care to know what her name was. It was a pass that was easy to score a goal with. You put a good spin to it, and it was optimal for any type of straight shot.

Even the Blue Lockers rolled their eyes at this, not liking that you're going easy on your team, especially after what happened last game.

"If she doesn't score that, I don't have any hope for any of them at all, except Y/n-chan." Chigiri commented, remembering how pissed he was when he watched the previous game.

They all watched the striker, receiving the ball with the side of her right foot and kicked to the net only for it to hit the goalpost, bouncing on it to end outside.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Isagi let out, everyone started to curse as well as the others.

"I mean, I would make a comment about how they're a Division 3 team. But anyone could have scored that goal..." Yukimiya said, shaking his head. This was a professional team? He thinks not.

"I think I know that striker girl. I have heard of her before... yeah. She was supposedly good, guess fame got to her head and she didn't improve anymore." Niko said, thinking back to some articles he has read about her. If that was the case, it would be rather sad that she wasted her talents and skills to remain in that same level forever instead of bettering herself.

After that fluke of a goal, you ended up just passing the ball to some of the defenders and midfielders who are much more efficient in protecting the ball or even scoring. After all, you were not used to being a ballhog, and the last game was just a desperate measure. But now, you had time to flesh out the game and your strategies instead of going all instinct.

Passing to one of the midfielders whom you knew named Yuko, you let her weave her way through the enemies before using her being stuck in the middle of two of them as a way for her to have no choice but pass it to you, which she did. You received it through the small opening before running through the field, dribbling the ball as fast as you can (you weren't a natural like Bachira or even Lavinho, but you weren't bad at it) before you were stopped by the opponent's defenders, who were lured by the aspect that you were not the best dribbler they have seen and to hopefully steal the ball.

Instead of fighting or dribbling past them, you kicked the ball high. It was high enough to seem like it was a pass, only it was to get past the defenders. It curved downwards as the goalkeeper tried to catch it, to no avail.

You scored your first goal of the night. And by God, was it magical to see. You were like a magical siren, elegantly swimming past the defenders, luring them using your elegant plays and seemingly understandable and naive plays so they can try and intercept you, only for you to turn around and be the one to make use of their belief that you were an easy. Just like the old sailors who thought that the beautiful girl in the middle of the ocean was an innocent woman, lured in by her beauty and hypnotizing voice, only to be dragged down the sea in despair.

You were that. Beautiful yet deadly. This was something none of the players or even masters have seen.

You looked ahead at the goal, not even celebrating as you just wiped the sweat on your forehead. As if you did not just plunge the opposing defenders into your sea, drowning them in despair.

"Damn...I've never seen her play...I kinda wish I did before..." Oliver said, breathless. The rest seemed like it as well, as if they were the players on the field, affected by your siren song.

"Now I get why Ego called her play...hypnotizing once...this is what he meant..." Kunigami added.

"Heh, a play that is so beautiful yet naive looking to lure in those around her, only to turn around and show her hidden monstrous side the moment she's in her golden zone for a goal. A killer playstyle that kid got." Lavinho said as he rested his back on the walls. You looked like you were dancing on the field so beautifully and elegantly. He would know since he was a dancer. And now he wonders if you had any backgrounds in dancing. The way you position your foot, your posture, the way you moved, and your isolation, it all reminded him of a dancer. He'll have to ask you.

"See! I told you guys. Y/n-chan is absolutely breathtaking when she plays." Bachira said excitedly. He had you play with him before, and he had a taste of your true ego before. Needless to say, it was one of the reasons why he had a crush on you somewhat. Your posture and the way you moved with a ball at the time to him was the perfect form for dribbling. And so, he would ask you for help in training and well, it was brutal but fun.

"Hmm, now I know your hidden side, Y/n. That crazy four-eyes definitely picked the right person to be the manager of these losers." Kaiser whispered under his breath.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

After the game:

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.