#〖 play with bad luck 〗 ic

[jonny-b-meowborn]

the hell of wanting to walk around like a dog but not only not being built for that physically but also having weak wrists prone to injury

[monstersflashlight]

Monster in the dark

Demon x chubby fem!human || chasing, dub-con (almost cnc), breeding, cum play, tail play

There wasn’t anyone in the street. You knew you should have taken the longer path, it took you all around the neighborhood but at least it was always crowded with people shopping, talking, walking around... anything. There were always people there, but instead you choose the fucking short path, going through the less light part of the neighborhood. You hated the dark with passion, but you were in a hurry, your favorite show was about to start and you didn’t want to run into anyone and risk them stopping you.

But apparently you were out of luck. "Hey dude!" Someone called out. You didn’t turn around. You walked faster, trying to get to the end of the long street where at least the lightbulbs weren’t flickering. Your anxiety was spiking, your heartbeat so loud in your ears you were scared someone could sneak up on you. A shiver ran down your spine when a cold breeze blew past you. A bad feeling creeping out on you.

"Hey you! I need a little help!" You turned around trying to decipher if your possible attacker was close enough that you should run faster. You knew you shouldn’t have done that. It was scary movies 101 to never turn around when something was chasing you. But maybe they were hurt or something. Your big heart betrayed you. You turned around completely, but there wasn’t anybody in sight. Just empty space. Confused you kept walking, almost running, but not entirely.

“Hey darling! The one with the cute butt, I need some help!” They called. What? Your anxiety was through the roof. The lightbulbs started to flicker like crazy, some of them even exploding, engulfing the street in darkness. You screamed and started to run as fast as you could. Which wasn’t so fast.

You ran and ran, the street seeming longer than ever. You prayed to whoever was listening to let you make it. To let you run fast enough to get to your house. Then you heard something similar to a growl, a primal sound that made your blood run cold and your body fuel with a fear so profound that it made your insides twist.

"Caught you!" Someone said as you felt a hand closing down on your shoulder. "Why are you running?" You were scared to turn around, but the stranger made you twist your body either way. The sheer force in that one point of contact made your fly or fight response activated. "Don't worry, darling, I just wanna talk."

You turned around and saw nothing. Not a peep. But the hand on your shoulder was there. The voice was there. You could feel it. You could feel a presence there. What the actual fuck. Your heart was going to get out if it kept beating like that.

"Oh, shit, sorry! I forgot humans couldn't see me in this form." And right before your eyes a tall figure appeared. Just like that. There was nothing, and then there was a big as fuck man. So big you have to look up. And up. And up. Your neck hurt from looking at his face. "Better like this, right?" He asked, the black tendrils around his body shimmering as he smirked. His mouth was too big, too wide, he had so many teeth you couldn't even process it. And they were sharp, so fucking sharp. You shivered. "Oh, darling, don't be scared, I'm not gonna eat you." You thought he added maybe under his breath, but your heartbeat was deafening in your ears.

“Wh- what are you?” You got out, your body frozen in place.

“A poor demon who needs your help.” He told you, his face trying to mimic a grin, but contorting in a creepy way, making you shiver.

“With- With what?” You asked, your body sending all kinds of alert signals to your brain.

“With this…” He whispered as he pulled your body against his, his erection rubbing against your stomach. “I need a sweet human pussy to help me with this, and your luscious body looks delicious. Perfect to breed.” He answered, making your blood turn into ice. And your body started to respond, trying to fight his hold, unable to do it.

“No. Stop. Let me go!” You struggled against him, but his hold was too strong.

He turned you around, pressing his front against your back, black tendrils coming around you, caging you. They started to touch every part of you. The tendrils and his hands moving freely over your body, groping your tummy, your tits, your hips, your ass, rubbing your pussy… There wasn’t a centimeter of you that was left untouched by him. You tried to scream, but his hand covered your mouth. “Don’t do that, baby.” That pet name made something inside your brain react. Could it be?

You talked with your demon boyfriend about wanting to try some CNC a couple nights back. He didn’t react to what you said, just kept listening as you listed your personal kinks. But this couldn’t be him, could he? He was a demon, but you never saw him like this. You couldn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe you had a magnet for weird monsters who wanted to fuck you. Fuck. You couldn’t know. What if he wasn’t? What if this stranger fucked you and you realized later it wasn’t your boyfriend. What if a weird monster took advantage of you in the middle of a dark street?

You knew you should have taken the long path.

The anticipation and the fear mixed inside of you, making your stomach drop and your fight response kick in. You bit the hand around your mouth as hard as you could. The monster moaned and rubbed his hard cock against your back. It was so big, too big. There was no way that would fit inside of you.

He used his tendrils to manhandle you into the air, lifting you so his cock rested between your ass cheeks. Your feet didn’t touch the ground, you were completely suspended, at his mercy. You regretted putting on a dress this morning, making his advances so easy now. You felt the cool air hit your rear as he lifted the back of the dress, exposing your almost naked ass.

“Aw! Look at that, you are wearing the prettiest thong. I bet your boyfriend loves it, too bad he’s not going to fuck your pussy tonight. I am.” His voice went so low in tone that it sounded distorted, making your insides tingle. To your shame, making your pussy tingle, too.

He moved the thong aside, pushing two fingers in right away, his claws pointy, dangerous. Your walls contracted against his fingers. “Someone is excited…” You blushed so hard you could feel the blood in your cheeks. “You like it, don’t you? Of course you do, you are a proud monsterfucker, aren’t you? I saw you with that demon boyfriend you have…” He whispered against your ear. You shivered, feeling humiliated as you moaned when his fingers hit your G-spot. “You are so wet and so hot… I’m going to enjoy your slutty pussy.” He teased, a tendril flickering your clit harshly, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

He didn’t wait, he didn’t care about you or your comfort. He pushed his dick inside of you in a fluid motion. As far as it could go. You could feel he wasn’t fully inside, his dick too big for your human pussy. But he didn’t seem to care about it. He started to fuck you hard and deep, hitting all your sensible places at once as his hands groped your tits over your dress, not caring if you screamed. Shame filled you as your pussy got wetter and wetter around his assault. You tried to struggle, but your forces bleed out every time he hit your G-spot. Fuck.

“Are you going to be a good breeding bitch for me? Are you going to keep fighting as I fill your pretty little cunt with my cum until it overflows?” You moaned, embarrassment filling you as your pussy pulsated around him. “You like that, don’t you? You try to fight but you are enjoying this. You are enjoying to have a monster’s cock deep inside of you.”

“N-no.” You choked out, the moan you let out after made your words pointless. He laughed harder, the movement of his body making his dick go a bit deeper.

“Yes, you do. You love to be a little human cum-dump for me. I bet you’d love if I fucked you harder.” He speeded up, setting a punishing pace that made a chorus of ah ah ah leave your mouth. He didn’t try to cover your mouth anymore, clearly enjoying the sounds you were letting out. You felt like the bitch he called you, enjoying as someone took advantage of you in the middle of the street. Anybody could come and see you there, exposed, being fucked by a monster, acting like his personal fleshlight. His cumdumpster.

“Prepare yourself slutty human, I’m going to cum so deep you are going to taste my cum.” His words were nasty, so dirty you wanted to say something, anything. But instead it made you moan, turning you into a mess.

And then you felt his cum hitting deep inside, so much of it you felt your lower abdomen bloating. “Look at that, you are so full… Poor little human, let me help.” He laughed cruelly, pushing against the bulge there, as cum gushed out of you, trying to escape around the cock still buried inside of you. Some of it came out, making the filthiest sound you ever heard, accompanying his laughter. He pulled out at that moment, his hand still on your abdomen, making a splosh sound as what felt like a river of come dripped down and hit the pavement under you. “So messy…” He chastised.

He lowered his hand, collecting some of his cum gushing out. He played with it, spreading it around your pussy, pushing some inside again. You groaned and moaned, his tendrils holding you in place as he played with your pussy like it was his personal toy. He took some of the cum and rubbed your clit with it, the most delicious friction taking you to the edge. It was dirty, so dirty… And then he took his hand away. You whimpered loudly and he laughed at your pathetic slutty act, slapping your pussy hard and making your eyes roll inside your head. You came, right there, right then. You screamed at the top of your lungs, his laughter fading into the background as your brain blacked out for a couple seconds.

You came back slowly. He lowered you to the ground, his front to your back and tendrils still around you. “Told you it would be fun!” His voice was back to his normal tone, making you relax, finally recognized your stupid boyfriend’s voice. He never showed his full demon form, just giving you glimpses of it through the months you dated. It came in handy for him today, you guessed, anger rising inside of you.

“You didn’t say you were going to use your fully transformed form. You scared the crap out of me, you ass!” You yelled back at him, your eyes still teary and your voice raw after the screaming marathon you just had.

“Hey! Don’t lie to me, you like my ass. And I definitely love yours…” He smirked, his hand groping your ass. He kneaded your ass cheeks like he was making bread, chuckling when you tried to pull away. You knew you were going to have some pretty nasty bruises the next day. He would love that. To have you all marked.

“I hate you.” You whispered, trying hard not to moan as he pulled on your thong’s string, the fabric rubbing your asshole and abused pussy in the best possible way.

“Aww, baby, don’t be like that.” He said softly, placating. His lips trailing kisses along your neck. “But you looked so good running away from me, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Also, your booty moves so nicely when you run, and your tits were bouncing like you were an anime girl.” You didn’t need to look at his face to know he was smirking like a madman.

“You are nasty.” You told him, reaching back and grabbing his balls, hard. He just moaned. You knew he liked the pain.

“You love when I’m nasty.” He teased you. He was right, you couldn’t deny that. “Can I fuck your asshole next?” He mumbled, rubbing his still hard dick against your back. You looked over your shoulder at him, trying to decipher if he was kidding. He wasn’t.

“You give me the scare of my life!” You repeated, mad at him for being so heartless, but deep down loving how shameful he was.

He didn’t look guilty at all. “You came either way. You loved to be my prey, didn’t you baby?” He teased, tendrils coming around your body to hold you tight against his embrace. You mumbled about how mad you were, not really meaning it. “Does that mean I can’t bend you down and fuck your ass?” He asked again in a pouty voice. You hesitated, and he took that as an invitation to move your thong to the side again, teasing your asshole. He pushed his traveling tail up your hole, circling it. You tried to push him away, but he just laughed and moved it to collect some of the mixture of his seed and your juices. He used it as lube as he pushed the pointed tip inside you, making you moan. “There she is, my lovely slutty girlfriend.”

“Take me home first, at least.” You told him, already giving in to the pleasure you could feel building for him pushing his tail in an out, just the tip, but it was enough to make your pussy tingle all over again. His cum was still coming out of you. He always came in what felt like buckets.

“But I don’t wanna wait!” He complained, fucking you faster and holding your hips flush against his body. You pushed back, making his tail go deeper, his laughter almost cruel.

“Don’t be a brat. Take me home.” You choked out, already feeling the signs of an orgasm building. You didn’t want to be caught, and you already pushed your luck too far tonight.

“Can I fuck all your holes if I take you home?” He tried to negotiate.

“Ugh, fine.” You tried to fake the annoyance, but you knew he saw right past your facade. Who were you trying to lie? You loved when he was so shameless, you loved when he used all of your holes as you were nothing more than a human fleshlight for him. And specially, you loved when he used his prehensile tail to fuck your ass as he pushed his dick inside your pussy. Fuck. You were so close.

He lifted you up and carried you home, his tail still fucking your hole sloppily all they way there, bouncing you over him and staring at your tits.

You came two more times before you reached your bed.

[luveline]

I would love to do a request if you would like! Some sort of Spencer Reid x Reader where the reader is super bad ass, tough, doesn’t show much emotion is kind of cold to others but has the biggest soft spot for Spencer!! 🫶🏻

thanks for your request lovey, I would love to write more of this pairing if you have any more requests ♡ fem!reader

"Here comes the ice queen," Morgan mutters, turning his chair away from the walkway. 

You walk down the steps from Hotch's office. Whether you were praised or reprimanded is anybody's guess —your face never gives anything away. Spencer doesn't necessarily agree with the way Morgan's categorised you, but he isn't wrong either. You're like Hotch in temperament, if Hotch were soft on only Spencer. 

That might have something to do with why Spencer won't call you cold. You're never cold with him. 

"What did boss man want?" Morgan asks. 

"If it were your business, Morgan, I'm sure you'd already know." You don't say it spitefully, but it's far from a warm answer.

Spencer honestly asks just to piss Morgan off, "Everything okay?" 

You visibly soften. Walking past Morgan without notice, you pause by Spencer's desk, your voice quieter, gentler. "Don't worry, Spence, everything's fine. You still reading that book about sex crimes in Arizona?" 

"I finished it. Doesn't take long." 

"No, you're fast," you agree. "What are you gonna read next?" 

It's amazing how swiftly you shift gears. Your body language totally changes, your shoulders slouching toward him, your hand open and resting on the back of his chair as if you might touch his hair. Morgan shoots Reid a look that says, What is happening right now?

"I was thinking about reading up on the Milk Killer, from 1954. He tried to give his victims blood transfusions high in lactose in an attempt to cure intolerance." 

Even Spencer admits that that sounds boring, but your face lights up with genuine interest. "That could be good. You'll have to tell me how it goes." 

"Sure." Spencer squints at you. "You have something on your face." 

"Yeah?" you ask, and Morgan goes wild behind you, dipping back in his chair in disbelief at your breathless tone. "What is it? Can you get it for me?" 

You bend a little and Spencer wipes the lint from your face sweetly. He wonders if he should be blushing, your affection for him as clear as it is, but for once, Spencer Reid feels smug. He can melt someone that Morgan can't. "All gone," he says. Smugness aside, you're a friend (and maybe a little more than that).

"Thanks, Spence," you say, popping a kiss against his cheek. "You saved me from embarrassing myself." 

Morgan clears his throat. You barely move, your hands twisting behind your back. "Hey, lovergirl," he says, making himself heard. 

"What, Morgan?" you ask, finally looking away from Spencer's pinking cheeks. 

"You have something," he says, pointing at the corner of his mouth. 

"So?" you ask indifferently. You turn back to Spencer as though nothing occurred. "Do you want to go to the movies again this weekend? They're playing a silent film. I think you'll like it." 

Spencer smiles genuinely. It's not his main concern, but it's definitely an added bonus to hear Morgan's sighed, "Are you kidding?" as he nods vehemently. 

"I'd love to," Spencer says. 

"Okay. It's a date," you say, smiling at him so nicely it feels like he can't breathe. 

"What's a date?" Emily asks as she returns from the kitchenette, eyebrows jumping. 

"It's a marker used to denote the day or month within a year," you say primly. "I have to go make copies for Hotch." 

You don't say goodbye. Morgan likes you, really, in the same way you like Morgan, so he gives Spencer a dazed look followed by a small smile. "Good luck with that." 

Spencer looks over his shoulder to follow your figure as you carry a box of reports to the photocopier. "I don't think I need luck," he murmurs. You glare at the copier, clicking one of its buttons aggressively. "She's nicer than you guys think." 

"Sure."

[chosok-amo]

HELP ME, MAN! : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you, their little girlfriend, scared the shit out of your boyfriends. they don't know why, how, them, the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the modern world are scared of their girlfriend.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, fem! reader. anger issues mentioned, you scared the shit out of them. fluff.

wc. | ( 𝜗𝜚 ) masterlist

( 𝜗𝜚 ) art belongs to the artist.

being the strongest sorcerers in the modern world, gojo satoru and geto suguru didn’t know fear. they had faced countless curses, fought against the worst of the worst, and never once backed down. no matter how dangerous, no matter how terrifying the curse, they’d come out on top, especially when they worked together. their bond and strength were unmatched. they could take on anything the world threw at them without flinching.

but there was one thing that shook them to their core. something even worse than a thousand cursed spirits combined.

you.

their fiery, sarcastic little girlfriend, who had more rage bottled up in her than any curse they’d ever faced. when you were angry, it wasn’t just explosive—it was terrifying. your sharp tongue, your piercing glares, and the way you could tear them apart with a single, biting comment. they’d rather face off against the worst special-grade curse than deal with your wrath.

and right now, they were both standing in front of you, like guilty children caught red-handed. you were pacing back and forth, arms crossed, the air thick with tension. they could handle anything… anything but this.

“so,” you started, your voice cold and sarcastic, “which one of you wants to explain this mess?” your eyes flicked between them, daring one of them to speak up.

gojo, never one to shy away from a challenge, opened his mouth, though his usual cocky grin was nowhere to be seen. “babe, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” he tried to play it off, but even he knew he was walking on thin ice.

you stopped in your tracks, slowly turning to face him, your eyes narrowing dangerously. “wasn’t that bad? really, satoru? because to me, it looks like you completely ignored the one thing i asked for.”

geto stood to the side, looking like he was praying for some sort of divine intervention. he knew better than to jump in too soon, but he also knew you were right. they’d messed up. and badly.

“idiot, stop talking,” geto said quietly, placing a hand on his friend’s arm, though his own nerves were clearly showing. then, he turned to you, his tone soft and apologetic. “we’re sorry. we really didn’t mean to mess this up, it just—”

“oh, so you’re both sorry? well, that fixes everything,” you cut him off, your sarcasm biting. “i guess next time i’ll just expect the bare minimum from the two of you.”

gojo winced, trying to shrink into the background, and even geto, usually calm and composed, was struggling to keep his cool under your stare. the two of them could take on anything, but this? this was something entirely different.

you could feel their unease, but it didn’t soften your mood just yet. “i ask for one thing,” you continued, pacing again, “and what do you do? exactly the opposite.” your voice rose with each word, your frustration clear. gojo shot a glance at geto, mouthing, “what do we do?”

geto shrugged helplessly, though he knew there was only one way out of this—admitting they were wrong. completely and utterly wrong. “look, we really messed up, okay? we’ll make it right, i swear. just… don’t be mad at us, alright?” he sounded genuine, his usual stoic tone now laced with concern.

you stopped pacing, your arms still crossed, and looked at both of them. “you better. because if you think i’m mad now, wait until i’m really pissed.” they both nodded, practically in unison. they knew better than to push their luck. after all, you were the one thing that could truly strike fear into their hearts. curses? no problem. a pissed-off girlfriend with anger issues? that was another story entirely.

“we’ll fix it,” gojo promised, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual, clearly trying to get back in your good graces. “yeah, we’ll do whatever it takes,” geto added, backing him up, eyes serious.

you watched them for a long moment, letting the tension hang in the air before sighing. “good. because the last thing i want is to be disappointed again.” they both exhaled in relief, knowing they were getting a second chance. you may have been their biggest weakness, but you were also their greatest strength—keeping them in check when nothing else could.

I DIDN'T SLAM THE DOOR, I SWEAR!

there was also a moment—just like any other day—when you and gojo found yourselves in a small argument. nothing major, just one of those little things that built up over time. this time, it was about him always leaving his clothes on the floor. no matter how many times you asked, it seemed like he just couldn’t get the hang of putting them in the hamper.

you stood in the bedroom, arms crossed, glaring at the pile of clothes that had been tossed haphazardly on the floor next to the bed. “again, satoru?” your voice was sharp, laced with frustration. “is it really that hard to put your clothes in the basket? it’s right there.”

gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed, looked up at you, his signature grin plastered on his face, but you could see the nervousness behind it. “come on, doll. it’s not that big of a deal, right? they’re just clothes.”

“just clothes? satoru, you’ve been leaving them everywhere—everywhere—for weeks. i’m not your maid!” you snapped, waving your hand toward the scattered mess. “you’re lucky i haven’t thrown them all out by now.”

gojo chuckled, clearly amused by your annoyance. “oh, come on, you wouldn’t throw them out. you love me too much for that.” he leaned back on the bed, the smirk growing wider. “besides, you could always pick them up yourself if it’s that important,“ he added, the taunt subtle but noticeable.

your eyes narrowed, the irritation bubbling up even more. he knew exactly what he was doing—pushing your buttons, trying to get a rise out of you. and it was working. you clenched your fists, taking a deep breath to keep from snapping right away, but the frustration was hard to contain.

“satoru,” you said, your voice dangerously calm as you looked at him. “i am not your maid. i’m not here to clean up after you like some kind of personal assistant.”

he opened his mouth, about to say something in response, but you cut him off, stepping closer, your temper flaring. “i already deal with enough without having to pick up your damn clothes every single day. you know i hate it when the house is messy, and you still leave your stuff everywhere. why? because you think i’ll just clean it up for you?”

his smirk wavered, just for a second, as he saw how serious you were. he might have been teasing, but he knew when you were on the verge of losing your patience. and right now? you were teetering on the edge.

gojo sat there, the smirk replaced by a hint of uneasiness. he hadn’t expected you to get this mad, but then again, he should have known. you weren’t one to back down easily, especially when it came to this issue.

he swallowed hard, trying to salvage the situation. “okay, okay, i get it. i know you’re not my maid. but come on, it’s just a few clothes. it really doesn’t take that much effort to pick them up, does it?”

you could feel your irritation spike even higher at his words, and your eyes narrowed. the way he was downplaying it, acting like it was no big deal, just pushed you closer to your breaking point. if it didn’t take much effort, then why couldn’t he do it?

“if it’s so easy, satoru,” you snapped, voice sharp with anger, “then why can’t you do it?”

without giving him a chance to respond, you bent down, grabbing one of the shirts from the pile of discarded clothes and hurled it at him. the fabric hit his chest, and he blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that reaction.

“you think it’s not a big deal, right? it’s just a few clothes, no effort at all,” you continued, grabbing another piece of clothing and throwing it at him. “then why do you keep leaving them everywhere? because i’ll pick them up for you? i told you, satoru, i’m not your maid.”

gojo sat there, eyes wide, the smirk completely eradicated as you hurled clothes at him. he flinched each time one hit him, and he didn’t say a word, recognizing he’d messed up.

when you grabbed another shirt, he finally spoke, his voice softer. “babe, wait—”

you didn’t stop, your eyes blazing, and he saw the real anger blazing in them. “you think it’s funny to disrespect me like this? to treat me like some kind of servant?”

gojo looked at you, his usual confident facade cracking under your intense glare. he knew he messed up, but he still tried to keep some of his usual attitude, though it faltered when he spoke. “it’s not that big of a deal, doll, come on. i’m just a bit messy, isn’t that part of the charm?”

he knew the moment those words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. your expression darkened even more, and another shirt hit him.

gojo’s confidence shattered the second the words left his mouth. he saw the way your expression darkened, eyes narrowing even further as the tension in the room spiked. before he could even backtrack, another shirt flew at him, hitting him square in the face. he froze for a second, blinking as the fabric slid off his head.

“wrong move, dickhead,” he thought, his heart speeding up just a bit as he noticed the way you were glaring at him, practically daring him to say something else.

without another word, gojo shot up from the bed, all traces of his usual cockiness gone. “okay, okay! i’ll clean it up!” he stammered, frantically bending down to gather the clothes you had thrown at him. he moved faster than he ever did in a fight, scrambling to pick up the scattered mess around the room.

you stood there, arms crossed, watching him with a piercing stare as he scurried around the floor, picking up every last piece of clothing with a nervous energy. the man who faced down curses without blinking an eye was now clearly scared of you.

gojo moved quickly, rushing to pick up all the clothes, his heart pounding the whole time. he had faced down some of the worst curses in the world, fought against overwhelming odds, but this? this was something else entirely.

he could feel your gaze on him, sharp and unwavering, and he knew better than to make any snide comments or try to joke his way out of this. he was in the doghouse, and he knew it. as he finally gathered the last of the clothes into a messy pile, he stood there, glancing up at you, his usual confident demeanor completely vanished before he quickly left the room.

gojo, in his frantic rush to escape the room, accidentally slammed the door behind him with more force than he intended. the loud bang echoed through the hallway, and he froze for a split second, his eyes wide with panic as the realization hit him. “shit.” without wasting another moment, he bolted down the hall, clutching his clothes like his life depended on it.

he raced into the living room, where geto was sitting on the couch, looking far too tense for someone who hadn’t been directly involved. geto had heard everything. every word of the argument had reached him, and he hadn’t dared to intervene—not with you in that mood. he knew better. much better.

when gojo came running in, face pale and eyes wide, geto’s first instinct was to flinch, his muscles tensing even more. gojo practically threw himself at geto, clinging to him like a lifeline, the pile of clothes still in his arms. “suguru, help me! she’s gonna kill me, man. i didn’t mean to slam the door, i swear!”

geto, whose nerves were already frayed from listening to the argument, quickly pushed gojo away, eyes wide with alarm. “fuck off, satoru!” he hissed, scrambling to put some distance between them. “don’t want to be anywhere near you when she starts yelling again. i don’t need to get dragged into this.”

gojo blinked at him, clearly desperate for any sort of support. “but—but you’re supposed to have my back!”

“not when it comes to her,” geto shot back, keeping his voice low in case you were nearby. “do you know how terrifying she is when she’s pissed? no way, man. you’re on your own for this one.“

gojo groaned, his shoulders sagging as he slumped onto the couch beside geto, still clutching the clothes. “come on, suguru. you can’t just leave me to deal with this by myself. we’re in this together, remember?“

before geto could even muster a response, both of them froze at the sound of your heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway. it was slow but deliberate, each step echoing louder than the last. gojo’s eyes widened in panic, and he shot a terrified glance at geto, who was looking equally tense. neither of them dared to move, as if staying perfectly still might make them invisible.

“satoru,” geto whispered, voice barely audible as his eyes darted toward the doorway, “you better hide or something, man. i don’t want to be involved when she gets here.”

“go where?!” gojo hissed back, frantically looking around the living room for some sort of escape route. but there was nowhere to go, no time to run. he was trapped. the footsteps grew louder, and gojo’s heart pounded in his chest. “oh no, oh no, she’s coming…” he muttered under his breath, gripping his clothes tighter.

“this is your fault,” geto whispered harshly, scooting a few inches away from gojo. “you’re the one who pissed her off.“

“satoru…!” your voice called from down the hallway, sharp and unamused. both men stiffened at the sound, knowing that whatever came next wasn’t going to be good. gojo’s face drained of color as he leaned closer to geto, whispering desperately, “don’t leave me, man! i’ll do anything—just don’t let her kill me!”

geto looked at him, weighing his options, but before he could say anything, there you stood, arms crossed, your glare fixed on gojo like a laser. your presence alone filled the room with an intense pressure that made even the strongest sorcerers feel small. “satoru,” you said, your voice dangerously calm, “did you just slammed the door?”

gojo was frozen, his eyes widened like a deer in headlights. he looked back and forth between you and geto, the panic clear on his face. “uh, i...i didn’t mean to,” he squeaked, the clothes clutched tightly in his hands.

geto, watching the scene, leaned back into the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible, avoiding eye contact with you. he knew better than to draw your attention.

you didn’t say anything at first, just raised an eyebrow, and the silence was enough to make both gojo and geto sweat. finally, you spoke again, your voice laced with irritation. “do you want to try that again?”

gojo immediately shook his head, eyes wide with fear. “n-no! absolutely not, babe!” he blurted out, his voice shaky. “i swear, i wouldn’t do that again! it was totally an accident! i didn’t mean to slam the door, i promise!”

he stood there, practically trembling under your glare, clutching his clothes like they were his shield. “i’ll be so careful next time—no more slamming doors. i’ll tiptoe if i have to!” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush as he desperately tried to fix the situation.

geto, who was watching from the couch, subtly leaned back, clearly relieved that gojo was taking the brunt of your anger and praying he wouldn’t get dragged into it.

gojo looked at you with pleading eyes, hoping his quick apology would be enough to cool your anger. “i’ll be good, i swear,” he added, his voice softening, hoping to appeal to your softer side. but your expression remained firm, leaving him to sweat just a little longer, wondering if he'd escaped this round of your wrath—or if he was still in trouble. you slowly nod before walking away back to your shared bedroom without taking your eyes off of him.

gojo let out a shaky breath as you walked away, the silence in the room almost deafening. he stood there, frozen in place, clutching his clothes tightly and wondering if he was really off the hook or if you were just planning something even worse.

geto, who had been watching the scene unfold, let out a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing his tense muscles. “jesus, man,” he whispered, turning to look at gojo. “i don’t know how you do it. i’d be shitting my pants right now if i was in your shoes.”

WHITE TURN PINK

you stormed into the living room, laundry basket in hand, grumbling under your breath. your favorite white button-up shirt was now an embarrassing shade of pale pink, along with almost all the white clothes from the load. it didn’t take long to piece together what happened: one of them had carelessly thrown pink clothes in with the whites.

as you stood in front of gojo and geto, blocking their view of the video game they were so engrossed in, they immediately began to protest. “hey, we were—” gojo started, but the moment they looked up and saw the expression on your face, their words died in their throats.

your eyes were narrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. you were pissed, and they could feel the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“who’s turn was it to do the laundry?” you asked, your voice low but laced with enough irritation to make them both sit up a little straighter. without missing a beat, gojo’s hand shot up, pointing directly at geto. “it was him!” he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.

geto’s eyes widened, his head snapping toward gojo in disbelief. “seriously?” he mouthed, glaring at him for the betrayal. but when he turned back to face you, his defiance melted away, replaced with sheer panic as he saw you holding up the now pink shirt.

geto could feel shivers running down his spine, his heart racing at the sight of your anger and the tainted shirt clutched in your hands. he wanted to protest, to deny the accusation that gojo had so shamelessly thrown at him, but one glance at your face told him it was pointless.

he swallowed hard, glancing at gojo who had the gall to give him a shrug and a smirk, as if it wasn’t his fault this had happened. but geto didn’t have time to deal with that right now. right now, he had to survive this. “care to explain this?” you asked, holding up the evidence.

geto could feel the color draining from his face, his mind racing as he desperately tried to come up with a convincing excuse. he shot a glare at gojo, silently vowing to get him back for this later, but right now, he had to handle the wrath of you.

“i...uh...” he stuttered, his voice shaky as he struggled to find the right words.

but before he could say anything more, gojo piped up beside him, clearly enjoying his friend’s predicament. “come on, tell her,"” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

gojo’s smirk didn’t last long. the second you shifted your glare toward him, your eyes narrowing dangerously, his confidence evaporated. you didn’t have to say a word—the intensity of your stare was enough to make him freeze in place. his lips clamped shut, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender, silently mouthing a “sorry” as he shrank back into the couch.

the teasing look was gone in an instant, replaced with one of sheer regret. gojo knew better than to push you any further when you were this angry. his eyes darted between you and geto, desperately hoping the attention would stay on his best friend and not shift back to him.

the atmosphere in the room was heavy, the tension palpable as both gojo and geto sat there, silent and clearly nervous about your next move.

gojo avoided your gaze, opting to find the most interesting spot on the floor to focus on, all his earlier cockiness gone. he couldn’t believe he’d so effortlessly thrown geto under the bus, and now they were both neck-deep in your wrath. geto, on the other hand, still looked like a deer in headlights, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a satisfactory explanation for the pink shirt.

your gaze slowly shifted back to geto, who visibly tensed under the weight of your stare. you crossed your arms, eyes still sharp as you raised an eyebrow. “well?” you prompted, your voice low but demanding. “explain.”

geto’s heart thudded in his chest, his tongue feeling heavy and clumsy as he tried to form words under your intense scrutiny. he swallowed hard, his mind scrambling to come up with any sort of explanation that might appease you.

“i...i...” he started, his voice cracking slightly. “i just...i didn’t...uh...”

he trailed off, his eyes darting to where gojo sat, silently mouthing, “help me, man!” but gojo only shrugged, unwilling to come to his aid and risk drawing your anger back towards himself.

geto’s throat went dry. his usual calm and collected demeanor was nowhere to be found as he fumbled for words. he could feel the color draining from his face, his mind scrambling for any excuse that wouldn’t make things worse. but there was no escaping this one.

“i—uh…” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “i didn’t realize the pink clothes were mixed in with the whites. it was an honest mistake, i swear.” he glanced over at gojo for a split second, hoping for some kind of lifeline, but gojo was firmly staring at the floor, wisely avoiding your gaze after nearly getting himself in deeper trouble.

“i didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” geto continued, his voice softening as he gave you a tentative, apologetic look. “i’ll… i’ll fix it. i promise.” you didn’t say anything at first, just continued to glare at him, making him squirm under the silence. geto knew he had messed up, and the longer you stared at him, the more he regretted it.

the silence was deafening, and geto fidgeted nervously, the weight of your glare like a vise around his throat. gojo watched from the corner of his eye, still trying to act casual even as the tension in the room grew.

geto swallowed hard, his mind racing for anything that might soften your anger. “listen, i know i messed up,” he began, his voice dropping to a quiet, contrite tone. “but i swear, i’d never do it on purpose. it was an error, a genuine mistake. it won't happen again.”

“damn right it won’t,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “because you two are redoing the laundry now.” gojo, still sitting stiffly beside geto, looked like he wanted to say something smart but quickly thought better of it. geto, on the other hand, sighed in defeat, clearly knowing there was no getting out of this.

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, both knowing that they had no choice but to follow your command. gojo let out a weary sigh, already dreading the chore ahead, while geto simply nodded in submission.

“yes, ma’am,” geto murmured, rising from the couch. gojo followed suit, reluctantly getting to his feet as well. the two men both looked like puppies that had just been chastised as they trailed after you as you led the way to the laundry room.

with matching groans of reluctance, the two strongest sorcerers in the world—men who had faced countless curses without fear—got up from the couch, heads hanging low, and shuffled toward the laundry room like a pair of scolded children.

as they passed, you shook your head, muttering under your breath, “honestly, how hard is it to separate the colors?” geto shot gojo a sideways glance. “this is your fault,” he hissed, still holding a grudge from being thrown under the bus. gojo shrugged, looking unapologetic. “hey, better you than me, man.”

“you owe me,” geto muttered darkly, glaring at him as they got to work on fixing their laundry disaster, while you stood in the doorway with your arms crossed, making sure they did it right this time.

they both muttered and grumbled under their breath as they sorted through the laundry, each taking their turn to throw in a sarcastic comment.

“you know, for being the strongest, we sure do spend a lot of time sorting socks,” geto grumbled, holding up a black one that had somehow gotten mixed in with the white.

gojo rolled his eyes, grabbing the sock from his friend and dropping it into the correct pile. “well, if you had been more careful—”

“oh shut up, satoru.”

you leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as you watched gojo and geto sort through the laundry, their faces set in identical frowns. they muttered to each other under their breath, casting glances in your direction every now and then, clearly miffed about being forced into this chore.

as the two men carefully separated the clothes, making sure to keep the colors apart this time, you couldn’t help but smirk. the sight of them working diligently, like a pair of scolded children, was a sight to see. you can hear them blaming each other. “stop fighting,” you tell them.

they both stop their bickering and look up at you. gojo starts to open his mouth, but you shoot him a warning glare, and he quickly closes it. “we’re not fighting,” geto mutters, continuing to sort through the laundry, careful to avoid any more pink shirts.

gojo rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath, but you catch it anyway. “what was that?” you ask sharply, pinning him with a look.

gojo swallows hard, realizing he’s been caught. “nothing,” he mutters sheepishly.

WE HAVE TO STAND FOR OURSELVES

in the kitchen, geto and gojo stood side by side, leaning against the counter, their expressions tense but trying to appear more confident than they actually were. they glanced nervously toward the hallway, making sure you weren’t nearby as they quietly discussed their situation.

“we’re the strongest sorcerers in the world,” gojo muttered, half-convincing himself as much as he was trying to convince geto. “we shouldn’t be scared of her. she’s… she’s just one girl. smaller than us. it’s ridiculous.”

geto nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his agreement. “right. we face curses and danger all the time. we can’t let her… you know, terrorize us in our own house. we’re the men in the relationship.”

they had a point. they had faced deadly curses and powerful sorcerers without flinching. but here they were, nervously tip-toeing around their girlfriend like frightened schoolboys.

“absolutely,” gojo continued, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “we can’t let her intimidate us. we’re stronger than her. we’re the strongest.” geto nodded again, though he seemed a bit less sure this time. “we need to show her that we won’t be pushed around... right?”

they both tried to sound resolute, but there was a visible nervousness in their body language—shoulders tense, eyes darting toward the door every few seconds, like they were expecting you to burst in at any moment.

“yeah,” gojo added, his voice lowering as if he didn’t even believe what he was saying. “we can’t let her push us around. i mean, come on. we’re gojo satoru and geto suguru. we shouldn’t be scared of her. right?”

but even as the words left his mouth, the doubt was clear. geto let out a small sigh, nodding but with much less confidence than before. “yeah, totally. we shouldn’t be scared… at all.”

there was a brief pause as both of them exchanged uneasy glances, neither wanting to admit just how much they were actually afraid of upsetting you. their bravado was shaky at best.

the silence stretched on. clearly, both men were starting to panic. they were not used to feeling weak, and to have you—someone they cared about and respected—wielding so much power over them was uncomfortable to say the least.

“so we...we should confront her, right? show her we're not afraid?” gojo asked, more for reassurance than anything else. geto nodded half-heartedly, his own confidence flagging as the thought of facing you head-on filled him with unease.

just as their uncertainty reached its peak, the echo of your footsteps rang through the hallway. they both went still, their eyes wide as they heard you approaching and turned to look at each other in panic. the color drained from their faces, and all the bravado they had been trying to muster moments ago completely evaporated.

you appeared in the hallway, looking nothing like the terrifying figure they had been hyping themselves up to face. instead, you were dressed in your cozy cat printed pajamas, your hair slightly messy, and you looked more like someone ready for a peaceful evening than the source of their terror. you seemed so casual and calm, it was almost comical.

but despite how cute and harmless you looked, the effect on the two strongest sorcerers was instant. when you reached them and stood in front of them, a casual look on your face as you were about to ask what they were up to, they immediately went into panic mode. without a second thought, both men dropped to their knees, their faces showing sheer dread.

“it was all suguru’s idea!” gojo blurted out immediately, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation, his eyes wide with fear. he didn’t even give geto a chance to protest before continuing. “he said we should stand up to you, that we’re the strongest sorcerers and shouldn’t be scared. i—I told him it was a bad idea!“

geto glared at gojo, but he was too terrified to defend himself properly. “i—what?! you were the one who said we shouldn’t let her push us around!” he stammered, trying to shift the blame back.

you looked at them, clearly confused by their sudden and dramatic display of fear. your eyebrows knitted together as you took in the sight of gojo and geto kneeling in front of you, their faces pale and their eyes wide with distress. it was such a stark contrast to the usual confident and unflappable demeanor they showed in almost every other situation.

“what is going on with you two?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion. “why are you both on the floor?” you glanced between them, trying to make sense of the chaotic scene before you. the sight of them so unnerved and trying to pass the blame off on each other was bewildering. your calm demeanor and casual attire made the whole situation seem even more surreal.

they both looked up at you, their faces a mixture of fear and shame. gojo opened his mouth to speak, but geto cut him off immediately, wanting to defend himself.

“please, we're sorry,” geto blurted out, his voice quavering slightly. “we were just... uh...”

gojo chimed in, his voice still panicked. “we were just... messing around. yeah, messing around. just having a bit of fun.” they look at you, silently begging for forgiveness and trying hard to hide their previous arrogance.

you looked at them, your expression turning from confusion to genuine puzzlement as you tried to make sense of their frantic apologies and conflicting explanations. “messing around? having fun?” you repeated, clearly unsure of what they were talking about.

“what are you guys even saying?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. you took a step closer, still trying to understand what could have prompted such an over-the-top reaction. “seriously baby, what’s going on? did i miss something?” your hands softly find their cheek, gently rubbing your thumbs across their skin.

the feeling of your hands on their cheeks was both soothing and embarrassing. they leaned into your touch, their bodies still tense with anxiety.

“we... we were just...” gojo began, his voice cracking slightly. geto cut him off again, clearly not wanting his friend to say anything else that could dig them deeper into trouble.

“it's nothing, really,” he mutters, looking up at you with a mix of guilt and shame. “just a silly argument. we're sorry if we worried you.” their panicked expressions soften slightly as they look up at you, still on their knees. they look so pathetic, and so uncharacteristically vulnerable, that it's almost endearing.

you looked down at them, your expression softening as you saw their vulnerable and somewhat endearing state. a small, amused smile played at the corners of your lips as you reached out to gently stroke their cheeks.

“you two weren't in bed,” you said, your tone light and soothing, “i was looking for you two. i just wanted to see if my boyfriends wanted to cuddle or hang out. i didn’t realize you were having such a… dramatic moment.”

the tension in their bodies seemed to ease at your words and soft touch. they both looked up at you, their eyes full of guilt and embarrassment.

“we, uh...” gojo started, but geto cut him off again.

“we're sorry we didn't notice you looking for us,” he muttered, his voice still laced with shame. “we were just having a... disagreement, and we didn't want to bother you.” they both looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, their faces full of remorse.

seeing the guilt and embarrassment in their eyes, you softened, feeling a wave of affection for them despite their earlier antics. you reached out and gently helped them to their feet, your touch reassuring and comforting.

“come on, baby,” you said, your voice warm as you guided them towards the bedroom.

you could tell they were feeling remorseful, and despite your confusion over their odd behavior, you chose not to press the issue. instead, you opted to show them a different kind of comfort. “let’s just go to bed and cuddle,” you continued, smiling at them, “it’ll be okay.“

as you led them toward the bedroom, gojo’s initial nervousness began to melt away in the warmth of your gentle presence. noticing your obliviousness to the full extent of their earlier antics, he seized the opportunity to return to his usual self, his playful side resurfacing.

“you know,” gojo began, sliding closer to you with a wide, affectionate grin, “i’ve really missed you today.” he snuggled up to you, his usual playful demeanor coming back full force. “it’s like, you’re the best part of my day, and i’ve been counting the minutes until we could be like this again.”

geto, feeling the shift in gojo’s mood, couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the change. he followed suit, wrapping an arm around you as you all made your way to the bedroom. “yeah, what toru said,” he added with a softer smile “we definitely missed you.“

behind the closed door, the three of you entered the bedroom, where the soft, dim lighting created a cozy and comforting atmosphere. as you led them both toward the bed, gojo began to shed his shirt, the fabric slipping off his toned body with an air of nonchalance.

“you know,” he stated casually, “i think a cuddle session is exactly what we need right now.” he tossed his shirt aside, not even bothering to see where it landed as he flopped down onto the bed.

geto followed suit, tossing his shirt and pants aside as well before joining gojo on the bed. “definitely,” he agreed, resting his head on the pillow. “i could use a good cuddle right now. it’s been a long day, after all.”

both men looked up at you expectantly, their eyes full of a mix of affection and mischief. they patted the space between them, silently inviting you to join the snuggle puddle.

“come here,” gojo said, his voice low and warm.

as you complied with their silent invitation, snuggling in between them, gojo wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer against his bare chest. geto did the same, snuggling up against your back and molding his body to yours. his hand lightly caressed your arm, the touch tender and intimate.

“this is nice,” gojo murmured, burying his face into your hair. “i love having you here like this.”

the warmth of their bodies against yours was like a small, comfortable sanctuary. gojo’s arms were wrapped securely around you, his bare chest pressed against your back. geto was curled up behind you, his body molding to yours like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together.

“it’s perfect,” geto agreed, his voice soft and muffled as he nuzzled into your hair. “having you here with us like this just makes everything feel right in the world.” gojo hummed in agreement, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your skin. “absolutely,” he said, his eyes closing in contentment.

for a few moments, none of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustle of sheets and the steady beat of everyone's hearts. then, gojo spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “can i tell you something, baby?”

you hum softly, still buried your face on his chest.

gojo's fingers continued to caress your skin as he gathered his thoughts. he was quiet for a few moments before he finally spoke, his voice soft and serious.

“you know we care about you more than anything, right?” he asked, his hand moving to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking at him. “more than anything in the entire world.” geto, sensing the sincerity in gojo’s words, moved in close on your other side, his arm wrapping tighter around you. “he’s right,” he muttered. “you mean the world to us.”

you felt a swell of warmth at their heartfelt words. you looked up at gojo, his gaze soft and sincere, and then turned to meet geto’s equally genuine eyes. your heart ached with affection for them both.

“i know,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. the emotions were almost overwhelming. you tightened your grip around gojo’s waist, pulling him closer, and then reached out to draw geto nearer to you as well.

gojo and geto both responded instantly to your wordless gesture, their bodies drawing closer as if magnetized to yours. gojo pulled you impossibly close to him, his arms embracing you like a vice, while geto pressed himself against your back, completing the cozy little sandwich.

gojo pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smirk. “we just... we want to make sure you feel loved and safe, always.”

geto’s chin rested on your shoulder, and he added his own gentle kisses to your neck and face. his hands stroked your arms soothingly, his touch tender and affectionate.

“always,” he echoed gojo’s sentiment, his voice low and earnest, “you matter so much to us, baby.” gojo’s chest vibrated slightly as he hummed, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“we’d do anything for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

you let out a contented sigh, feeling the weight of their embrace and the tenderness of gojo’s kiss on your forehead. the warmth of their bodies pressed against you was incredibly comforting, and you closed your eyes for a moment to fully appreciate the feeling.

“i feel safe,” you murmured, your voice soft and sincere, “i always feel safe with you two, more than with anyone else. each time you cuddle me, it’s like my brain just turns off. i get so comfortable that i could fall asleep in seconds.”

you nestled even closer into their arms, savoring the sense of security and peace they provided. their combined presence was like a soothing balm, washing away any lingering worries or stress. in their embrace, you felt completely at ease, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle comfort of their love.

gojo and geto both tightened their hold on you even more as you spoke, their bodies pressing against yours like an impenetrable wall of warmth and affection. the knowledge that you felt safe and secure with them, that their presence could turn off your worries and calm your mind, filled their chests with a deep sense of contentment.

“good,” geto murmured against your neck. “that's exactly how it should be.”

gojo nuzzled against your hair, his arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you. “you should always feel like this,” he said, “like nothing in the world can touch you.”

as the three of you continued to snuggle, geto’s hand began tracing gentle patterns up and down your arm, his touch soothing and rhythmic.

“we would do anything to make sure you feel this way,” he said softly. “you deserve nothing less than happiness and comfort.” gojo leaned down slightly to press another gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a few moments before he spoke again.

“always, baby... always.”

you intertwine your free hand with geto’s, feeling his fingers gently intertwine with yours. with your other hand, you caressed gojo’s bare waist, enjoying the warmth and closeness of him.

as you felt their soothing touches and heard their comforting words, you closed your eyes, already starting to drift off. “i’m so grateful for you both,” you murmured softly, your voice barely audible. “thank you for being in my life.”

gojo and geto both held you tighter as you intertwined your fingers with geto’s and rested your palm on gojo’s waist. the simple touch was like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place, completing the circle of love and affection that surrounded you.

their hearts swelled with emotion at your words, and they both responded in unison, their voices low and soothing. “we’re the grateful ones, sweetheart,” gojo spoke up. “we should be thanking you for bringing us into your life,” geto continued, his voice warm and gentle.

you felt their embrace tighten around you, the simple touches of intertwined fingers and a warm palm on gojo’s waist completing the circle of love and affection. their words filled the space around you, wrapping you in a cocoon of emotional warmth.

as their voices melded into a soothing, harmonious backdrop, you drifted further into the comfort they provided. the gentle rise and fall of their breaths and the steady rhythm of their heartbeats guided you toward sleep.

you didn't have the chance to respond, as the comfort of their presence and their heartfelt words lulled you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

gojo and geto each felt a sense of deep contentment wash over them as they heard your breaths become slower and more even, signaling your descent into sleep. they held you close, their embraces protective and affectionate.

they watched over you as you slept, their gazes full of admiration and love. they continued to whisper soft, soothing words and gentle touches, ensuring you slept undisturbed and surrounded by their love.

“sweet dreams, baby,” gojo said quietly, his lips brushing your forehead. geto echoed his sentiment, his hand gently running through your hair. “we love you so much.”

the room was filled with a peaceful, quiet atmosphere, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of sheets and the soft rhythm of their breaths. gojo and geto were completely engrossed in their silent vigil, their senses fully attuned to you and your every movement.

slowly, the dawn began to break, casting a soft, morning glow into the room. it caught the edges of gojo’s silver hair and geto’s dark locks, creating a soft, halo-like effect around their heads.

[mascdestr0yer]

heyy if you don’t mind could you write something abt paige teaching her non athletic gf how to play basketball?? i just love reading some paige fluff, ur writing is really good btw ! 💓

for the team

(not like that !)

Paige bueckers x fem!reader

Warnings: there really aren't any, not that I know of.

Synopsis: Coach Geno made a bet between Paige's girlfriend (you duh) who is always (not all the time, he's dramatic) at the team's practice, if you make a shot from half court he would cancel practice for a week.

Requested !

I feel so coolness, keep the requests coming please ! Thank you for the compliment, luv you all ! -millie

"baby you have to actually try," Paige huffed, rubbing her temples. "Your aim is way off."

"I am trying ! It's hard," I whined, giving her the basketball. "You do it then, since it's soo easy." I crossed my arms, waiting for her response.

"stop being a brat, a'ight. Back up a little, let me show you how real pros do it." She dribbled the ball a few times as I backed up to watch, she bent her knees slightly as she shot the ball from half court, she made it. She surprised herself, but shook it off.

"no fair, you have years of experience.. and luck." I whined as she passed me the ball. "Noo, I don't want it." I whined more, passing it back to her.

"And I don't want practice, so either you keep practicing or my whole team will literally drag me, especially KK." She demanded, my frown becoming more visible, her expression quickly softening. "I didn't mean it like that, m'sorry. C'mere," she dropped the ball, letting it roll as she pulled me closer by my waist.

"you were so close, so why give up now? Come on, pleasee," she pleaded, gently holding the side of my face.

"fine, but you owe me." I say looking up at her. Her hands falling to my ass, squeezing it gently, with a smirk. "Paige !"

"my bad," she chuckled as she pulled away, walking over to get the basketball that rolled away. She picks it up and passes it to me. We got right back to practicing, for almost an hour.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

Tomorrow,

The whole UCONN wbb was sitting on the sidelines as Coach Geno passed me the ball, I was standing half court.

"do I go now?" I asked softly, really nervous.

"Y/n if you miss-" Ice starts, Paige quickly cutting her off.

"stop, she's already nervous."

"both of you, please shut up." Azzi says, and she looks me in the eye nodding slightly.

I dribbled the ball.

One

Two

Three...

I bent my knees slightly, just like Paige did last night and I shot it. Everyone held their breaths crossing their fingers. Geno's eyes squinting to see if it'll go in or not.

I made it !

Loud cheering begins as the team ran over to me, Paige picking e up in spinning around. KK running around the courts yelling, Nika looked so relieved, thanking me. Paige puts me down quickly to run around with KK. Ines began skipping towards me and she hugged me tightly, thanking me.

"I can't breathe.."

"oh- sorry," she let go of the hug, Paige and KK running over to me.

"Y/n, you did that," KK hyped me up, Paige wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

"can we get chipotle?" I asked Paige, looking up at her, since she was driving.

"anything you want, I'll get it, extra chicken, extra guac, allat. I'll buy you boba too-"

"me too?" KK asked.

"definitely not." Paige said almost immediately.

"that's why you suck at rocket League,"

[harrysfolklore]

Tom Blyth and YN Take a Couples Quiz | GQ - actress!yn

gif by @obriy <333

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

read my actress!yn x tom insta blurb here <3

//

"Hi I'm YN" 

"And I'm Tom"

"And today we're doing..." you looked at Tom so you could say the following part of your introduction together, "The GQ Couple Quiz!"

"Are you nervous?" you said as you looked at him, noticing his hands fidgeting on his lap.

"I'm alright, I'm pretty confident I'm a great boyfriend and I'll know all the answers." he gave the camera his million dollar smile and you couldn't help but show a smile of your own.

"Okay, first question," you looked at the card in your hands, "What is the name of my first movie?

"That one's pretty easy," he shrugged before continuing, "Spider-man Homecoming."

"That's correct," you flipped the card to read the next question, "What city did I grow up in?

Tom stayed quiet for few seconds, looking nervously at the camera and making you laugh. 

"Already? Really?" you looked at him in disbelief, "I thought you were a great boyfriend!"

"I am! This is a tricky one!" Tom moved his hands around and you covered your mouth with the card to hide your laugh "Okay, you were born in California, but you actually grew up in Phoenix."

"Correct! See! You knew it," you grabbed the card with the next question, "What would my job be if I weren't an actress?"

"Detective," Tom quickly said, "100% detective."

"Oh! That was fast," Tom shrugged before you continued, "Okay bonus, what kind of detective?" you looked at him with a raise eyebrow.

"Homicide," he replied quickly again, "All of those true crime podcasts prove it."

"Well yeah, that's true," you smiled as you read out the following question,  "Where was our first date?"

"It was at your house," Tom smiled as he remembered the moment, "And it was playing Clue, and I had to pretend to enjoy that game for you, and it was totally worth it."

"How sweet of you," you smiled at him before continuing, "Oh boy, you have to be specific for this one," Tom raised his eyebrows and waited for you to give him the question, "What is my night routine?"

"So, she puts on this little pink robe," he explained directly to the camera, "And then she puts her hair on one of these stretchy bandanna things so her hair is out of her face," you smiled at him, indicating that he was answering correctly, "Then she washes her face with this like foamy cleanse thing, then she puts on all her creams, and then when she's walking to the bed she turns on the heat, which is probably the only thing that we fight about," you both let out a laugh as he continued, "And then she gets in, she goes by her cupboard and she puts on these really fluffy and ridiculously warm socks and also my really baggy tracksuit bottoms but she rolls 'em and she puts one of my t-shirts 'cause she likes the smell of my aftershave," he smirked and you blushed for a second, "Then she gets in bed and she asks me to put one of these big fluffy, white blankets in the dryer so It's warm, then I tuck her in and put the other blanket on her  and that's it."

"Okay wow, you killed that one," you smiled at him, "You did really well."

The next questions were pretty easy for Tom's liking, getting right your astrological sing, celebrity crush, favorite ice cream flavor and the year you won your first Emmy. He ended up getting 23 points.

Now, it was your turn to answer questions about him.

"You feel ready, love?" he said giving you a smirk and you only nodded motioning him to read the first question, "Okay good luck, how old was I when I got my first role?"

"You were fifteen and already getting cast by Ridley Scott ." you answered confidently and sent a wink his way.

"Neat. What was the name of the high school I graduated from?"

"Was it North Hilld?" at this, Tom raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "Shit! It was Hills something, right?"

"You really don't know the name, love? This is making you look bad!" you covered your face in embarrassment, even tho you knew he was joking, "The correct answer is Arnold Hills."

"Ohhh that's right, give me the next one I'll do better."

"Okay, okay," he looked down at the card with the next question,  "Who's my celebrity crush?"

"Also easy, Jennifer Aniston," you smiled looking at the camera, “You had a poster of her hidden in your closet and all.”

"Nope, you're wrong," you raised your eyebrow at him, pretty sure you were right about your answer, "You're my celebrity crush, love."

"Tom! That was so bad!" you both laughed and he winked to the camera, "This is a serious game."

"Okay, okay, you got that one right," you rolled your eyes with affection as he read your next question, "The next questions are going to be a single sentence answer so I need you to do it as fast as you can, okay?"

"I'm ready, let's do it" 

"My go-to Karaoke song?

"Senorita by Justin Timberlake."

"What is my coffee order?"

"Oat milk latte."

"What is my biggest pet peeve?"

"Loud chewers."

"What's my hidden talent?"

"Whistling, like, melodically whistling if that makes sense."

"Okayy, those are all correct," he put the cards on the small coffee table between you, "We make a pretty good team, don´t you think?"

"We do, but I'm pretty sure I won." you shrugged and Tom laughed as you both turned to the camera to say your goodbyes.

"Thank you so much for watching. I personally think I won but we'll see."

"Thank you GQ!" you waved you hand and the camera stopped rolling shortly after.

The video ended up being one of the most watched on GQ's YouTube channel.

[junislqve]

athlete bf! enhypen ✶ ot7

꒰ 𝑎 ꒱ how enhypen would be like as your athletic boyfriend.

pairs athlete!bf enhypen x reader content kissing skinship fluff not proofread ( 520 )

REBLOG if you enjoyed — click me.

LEE HEESEUNG — his favorite hobby is kissing you after winning a big game. no matter how many people were watching or if it wasn’t appropriate on school grounds, all he needed was you. “don’t you think i deserve a reward, baby?” flashing his grin at you.

PARK JONGSEONG — it was a tradition for you to attend his games as a ‘good luck charm’. sometimes when you couldn’t attend ones that he won he’d go home sulking anyway, clinging onto you. “you’ll watch my next one, right, babe?” his voice was muffled on your shoulders. his hands and arms were all wrapping around you. your face pushed on his chest. “i need you”

SIM JAEYUN — you thought you were slick when you’d stare at his figure all drenched after football practice. something about when he wipes his face using the hem of his shirt, a sliver of his stomach exposed and his shirt stuck to his body due to sweat had you feeling dizzy. “like what you see?” jake called out from the field, rousing you from your daze, his face split into a sly smile.

PARK SUNGHOON — something you both love more than laying in bed and binging a show is going on impromptu night escapades. or more like hogging the ice skating rink hoon uses at midnight and playing until you both were too tired. whether you were great or terrible at skating, hoon’s hands would never leave your waist, “what if you fall and hurt yourself?” in the end, when you both were about to leave the rink, hoon pulled you back for a sweet kiss, skating off the rink the next second.

YANG JUNGWON — “put your hands below the ball” jungwon’s soft voice traveled through your ears like a melody. you figured your heart was beating way faster than the airplane flying past right above you. won’s hands were gentle on yours, guiding your hands the right way. you felt bad for him, the way he was teaching you so passionately and you could barely focus on anything other than his breathing that fanned over your shoulder. “am i making you nervous?”

KIM SUNOO — “put me down” you shout as sunoo’s grip on you tightened. “hold on, pretty” he said, his hands rubbing your thighs in attempt to calm you. that was all it took for you to shut up and wait for the camera and flash to click. sunoo slowly brought you down from your position with your legs around his neck and you threw him a faux glare. “fuck you and your stupid biceps”

NISHIMURA RIKI — it wasn’t easy to fluster your boyfriend. you’ve tried, plenty of times. if anything, you thought flustering riki would be easy, but when he caught on to what you were doing he made it his mission to not fall into your tricks. “how was practice” riki walked into his flat, dropping his duffel bag on the couch, “it was—“ riki stared back at you when you looked up in confusion. “don’t wear that again” was all he said before he went inside his room to change. what he didn’t know was that you saw his ears so bright red just as the door closed.

juni : hi guys.. its been a second

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

Miguel O'Hara — Love Sick

a/n: i've been slaving over genetics (and biochemistry) lately, and when i was scrolling on tiktok during my break i saw this one superbat imagine and thought of writing it with my favorite geneticist

cw: uh just fluff ig, miguel o'hara is not good with feelings, miguel o'hara is emotionally constipated

You haven't always had the best of luck in your life.

It wasn't so bad that it made you hit rock bottom, but you've had your fair share of moments where you ended up drawing the shortest end of the stick in the game we all call life.

And as you stare at Peter's hand balled to a fist, and yours with two of your fingers pointed out, his hand forming a rock and yours forming scissors, you quickly conclude that this is one of those moments.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't put losing to Peter in rock, paper, and scissors as top 5 of the worst moments of your life; however, this is different. To explain just how different it was, we need to go back to a few minutes ago, the reason why you and Peter had to play in the first place.

Not long ago, you received an alert from the Spider-Man 2099 himself asking for backup. You didn't bother to respond as Jess had already reassured you that she's got him—as it turns out, she, in fact, does not have him when she teleported back with an unconscious Miguel draped over her shoulder.

That, in itself, is already worrying enough. But what worried you more was Lyla's report on your boss' situation, relaying the information to Miguel's inner circle of most trusted Spider-people, including you.

"He's been hit with a love potion, an incredibly potent one at that," Lyla reports, her holographic form adjusting her heart glasses and typing away on her holographic computer. "It hasn't kicked in yet, but it will the moment he wakes up," Lyla adds before looking up from her computer, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the huddled-up spiders

"And when he does, he'll be head-over-heels in love with the first person he sees," The AI informed them in a serious tone, before grinning like the mischievous rascal she is.

"So... Who will the lucky person be?"

It has been decided amongst your group that whoever loses shall be the unfortunate soul that needs to deal with Miguel's affection until Lyla and the other Spiders have concocted an antidote for everyone's admired boss.

And now, you stare back at your hand, then at Peter's, and back at your own hand again. Silence fills Miguel's spacious office as all eyes land on you, and you can feel your cheeks already starting to warm up.

"Can't we just blindfold him?" You spoke before anyone else could, looking over at the holographic AI, who seemed a bit too pleased with the results. "Or lock him in a room or something?"

"Don't be so barbaric," Peter spoke with amusement in his voice.

"Right. Besides, it can't be that bad!" Lyla spoke, her voice with a hint of something that you can't quite put your finger on. Mischievousness? Teasing? Hinting at something she knows but you don't? You didn't know for sure.

"I think Miguel would prefer being locked in a room than being lovesick for an entire day." You respond with a sigh as Peter practically drags you toward where Miguel is currently lying unconscious, and you have no other choice but to let him.

You were a person of your word. You can't possibly back out now just because you lost.

You tense slightly as your spider sense alerts you that Miguel is starting to wake up, feet glued to the floor when he starts to stir.

"You'll be fine," Jess tried to comfort you with a poorly hidden amused smile on her face, followed by Peter patting your back, and you didn't have to turn around to sense that he'd already whipped his phone out to record the whole scene.

The whole room was tense, or perhaps it was just you. Ice ran through your veins the more Miguel moved, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as his hand moved to rub one eye before finally, finally.

His eyes flutter open.

Ruby red irises land on your form, and you can see a hint of your reflection from his intense gaze. The first person he saw as he awoke.

He stares at you in silence, gaze glued to yours, raking over your visibly tense form as you stare back at him. His face remains neutral, and you're already bracing yourself for his affection—may it be in the form of verbal affection or physical affection.

Miguel then leans forward to sit, before slowly standing up.

You watch as he takes steps toward you, his hand already rising and about to reach out. Your heart skips a few beats, trying to beat right out of your chest to meet his own halfway.

When he was closer to you, you tense up even more, ready to be pulled into his arms...

Except... he just slipped past you.

The hand he raised earlier ran through his hair, his eyes now on Jess.

"Mission report," Miguel demanded in his usual neutral, gruff tone as everyone looked at him with jaws dropped, all dumbfounded by his casualness.

The drowsiness seems to have left Miguel by then as he looks at everyone. He raises a brow in confusion as he notices everyone's stupified expressions and Peter's phone still pointed at him as if they were expecting something from him.

"What?" He asks, brow still raised.

"That's... This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Peter was the first to speak, begrudgingly putting his phone in his robe's pocket.

"Peter, I'm already not feeling well." Miguel responds, brow scrunched as he turns to face Peter, "I have no time for your antics, and that goes for you, too." He adds, pointing towards you on the last part.

Lyla's hologram hen shows up on Miguel's shoulder, bent over and examining Miguel's face, a hand on her chin as she hums. Her boss raises his brow again at this, trying to shoo her away, only for her to keep insisting.

"You were hit with a love potion, Miguel. Quite a potent one, too." Lyla informs the man who's looking at her with a skeptical look in his eyes as she continues, "I calculated its effects would include being down bad in love with the first person you see when you regain consciousness."

Miguel blinks at that, his eyes landing on you, and you recognize the flicker of understanding in his gaze as he does before looking back to Lyla and to the disappointed Peter and the less-visibly disappointed but still very much disappointed Jess.

"Well, it didn't work." Was his simple response, which caused a groan to resound from Peter and a shake of a head from Jess.

"Come on, not even a bit?" Peter asks, looking at Miguel with narrowed eyes. "Look at them, don't you feel like pulling them into your arms and kissing them until the sun sets?"

"First off, that's highly inappropriate," Miguel responds, his hand coming up to pinch his nose bridge in between his fingers to nurse a headache already starting to come up. He says your name exasperatedly, "Please don't mind him. You know how he is."

Before Peter can voice out the offense he took to Miguel's words, Jess speaks up with curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"But how come it didn't work?" Jess asks, her brows furrowing in confusion, looking at Miguel, whose face remained neutral despite her questioning. "Lyla was so sure it affected you, and it affected you enough that you lost consciousness, and suddenly it just... didn't have an effect?"

Miguel clears his throat at that, subtly looking to Lyla to give Jess an explanation that would sate her curiosity and make her suspicions die down, but you suddenly spoke to his rescue.

"Perhaps it has something to do with his DNA?" You infer, humming softly to yourself, "His DNA is different from ours, and most of the time, he's immune to potions and poisons because he isn't human enough to be affected by them. Right?"

Your eyes meet Miguel's as you ask for confirmation, and your breath hitches at the sheer intensity of his gaze as he looks back at you. Still, this wasn't anything new. Miguel can be kind of intense and intimidating, even if he doesn't mean to.

"Pretty much." It was Lyla who confirmed your theory on behalf of Miguel, and before anyone could speak, Miguel swiftly interjected.

"Alright, the show's over." He spoke, looking over at everyone and individually giving instructions in order to get all of you off of his back.

"Jess, I need that report before the end of the day. Peter, weren't you supposed to go home early today? Look after your pregnant wife." Miguel spoke before turning to look at you, "And you, I have a mission for you."

One by one, the three of you leave his office, with you being the last one after he briefs you on the mission with Lyla's assistance. Miguel's eyes were glued to your back as you left, much to your obliviousness.

"It worked, didn't it?" Lyla coos suddenly, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts, making him jump slightly and snap his eyes from your figure and towards his holographic AI.

"What worked?" Miguel tried to feign innocence, looking away from Lyla as he turned toward his many screens.

"The Love Potion. It worked." Lyla continues to tease him, grinning at him knowingly as she lays on her stomach in the air, kicking her feet. "You're just so in love with them already that it didn't make a difference."

Miguel remained silent for a while at her teasing words, but the reddish tint blooming on his tan cheeks was enough of an answer to the AI already. Besides, she's the one subjected to Miguel's eyes, always following you around like a lost puppy whenever you're in the room.

"If you tell anyone, I'm shutting you down."

"No, you're not."

".....No, I'm not."

[sunsburns]

naked in manhattan

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader / implied art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’re just hours away from a flight that will change your career forever—one that will take you to london, england, for the 2012 olympics, a milestone you never thought you’d reach. thrilled yet trembling with nerves, you find yourself at the hotel bar, celebrating alone. it does not help when you run into art donaldson and… his wife?

—or: you and tashi rekindle an old flame

word count: 6.9k

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, semi-public sex (a gym at the middle of the night so idk if that counts), mid-challengers movie (a year after the atlanta scene with tashi and patrick), angst with no comfort, fingering, homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, no use of y/n, old situationship best described in terms of “casual” by chappell roan (iykyk), art is lowkey a shit starter

author’s note: so i finished this a while back and added it to my queue and did not realize i put it for july instead of june so LOL MY BAD. this is kinda like a prequel to “good luck, babe!” but you don't need to read that to get this. alsoooo thank you for all the love and feedback in “good luck, babe!” i’ve read every single message and tried to reply to all of them! you guys are so sweet and inspired me to write more! thank you thank you <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

Manhattan, New York City, 2012

"I hope you're planning on getting laid tonight."

Your drink is cold, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you swirl the straw absentmindedly. The dim lighting of the hotel bar casts a warm, golden glow over everything, making the polished wood of the bar counter gleam. Around you, the murmur of conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses create a lively yet intimate ambiance. You glance at the TV mounted in the corner, where a muted sports channel displays highlights from a basketball game.

You try not to snort into your drink at the words of Patrick Zweig on the other end of the call. You push your phone closer to your ear, unable to bite back the grin spreading across your face.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"What?" Patrick's tone is mockingly innocent, full of playful mischief.

"I thought you called to say something a little more... I don't know, sincere? Heartwarming?"

He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh that you can practically feel through the phone. In the background, you hear the faint sounds of a city—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional bark of a dog. The noise fades slightly as Patrick likely moves to a quieter spot, and you can almost picture him getting in his car in some other state—you think he's in Arizona.

"The only kind of warming I wanna hear about is cockwarming," he retorts, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You make a face, "You're disgusting."

"I mean it," he insists, still laughing. "I'm actually so jealous of you right now. You qualified for the Olympics, for fuck's sake! How's your mom doing? Did she have a heart attack? Did she call you already? I hope she packed you some condoms. There's gonna be such a wide variety. Literally every country in the world."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick."

Your mother did call, her voice crackling with emotion over the phone just before Patrick rang you. She told you how proud she is of you, how she can't wait to watch you play and tell everyone she knows that her daughter is an Olympic tennis player. A gold medalist, maybe.

Her words echo in your mind, filling you with a warmth that battles the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

You take a sip of your drink, savouring the blend of fruity and bitter flavours, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts. You try not to spill it on your Ralph Lauren sweater, custom-made, just for the Olympics, with your name stitched on the arm.

Around you, the hotel bar is alive with the buzz of other athletes celebrating with their teams. The fellowship is appreciable as laughter and cheers fill the air. But for some single athletes, like yourself, it's a different story. You feel as if you're in high school all over again, too awkward to make friends, hoping someone braver than you will come by and say hello first.

"You better not be sitting at the bar alone, drinking that orange juice you like."

"A sangria isn't just juice, you dick," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"You're such a loser."

You do feel a little bit like a loser, sitting alone at the bar, but you know you shouldn't. You're hours away from your flight to London where you'll have the chance to play tennis in the Olympics. This is all you've ever wanted since you were a child, all you've been working for—sweat, blood, and tears. You can't even remember a time when you've dreamt of something other than this.

Tennis has always been your escape, your sanctuary. You remember those early days when you played with second-hand rackets and makeshift nets, the local court becoming your second home.

And then there was Patrick, your closest… friend(?) and fiercest rival. His encouragement, his competition, and his company kept you grounded and motivated. When the going got tough, the dream felt too distant, and all of it made you feel far too guilty as if you had stolen someone else's life, Patrick was there to reassure you that you deserved it just as much as the next. Without him, you likely would have walked away from the sport you love.

"I can't believe you made it to the Olympics before me," Patrick's voice pulls you back to the present, a mix of envy and pride lacing his words. You can almost see the playful smirk on his face, a familiar expression that often surfaced during your countless matches together.

"I wish you were here, Pat." Your voice softens, the longing evident. It was hard to track down Patrick Zweig, especially while he was constantly on the move, hopping from state to state, playing as many challengers as he could sign up for, each match a stepping stone toward his dream of winning the US Open. And you think he will. You've played against him enough times to know he's better than you at hitting a ball with a racket.

There were nights when you'd both crash in a shabby motel or back at your place after a gruelling day on the court, strategizing and critiquing each other's play styles (sometimes in more than just tennis). His tenacity was a beacon for you, pushing you to strive harder and to reach further.

His voice softens, becoming more earnest. "Yeah, me too. I'll try to get tickets for one of your games in London. If not, I'll catch up with your mom and watch it with her. Is your dad still in the picture?"

You roll your eyes, a reflex to his familiar teasing. "Oh, my god."

"I'm just asking," he chuckles. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, 'cause I've got a date tonight. But call me when you land."

"Oh, yeah, okay." You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but it's hard. It's not like you and Patrick were together, at least not publicly, at least not in the sense that you couldn't see other people. But even as you tell yourself that, a knot tightens in your chest.

It feels a bit teenageish, you think, messing around with friends and acting like it means nothing just to avoid making things awkward. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaving something unsaid, something unacknowledged. Patrick was one of the few people in your life who kept you on your toes and made you feel good—truly good.

Now, the idea of him with someone else, going on dates while you chase your dreams, feels like a betrayal you can't quite articulate. But what right do you have to feel that way? You never made things official, never dared to cross that line.

You never bothered to search for love outside of tennis.

"Have fun on your date," you manage to say. It comes out more brittle than you'd hoped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye!" he says, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. His voice is light and carefree, and why wouldn't it be?

You end the call and set your phone down on the bar with a bit more force than intended, the hollow thud echoing your frustration. The bartender glances your way and you try to flash him an honest smile before ordering another drink. The TV overhead flickers, switching from basketball highlights to a recap of the latest tennis matches. You watch the screen without really seeing it.

The bar is still lively, yet you feel an overwhelming sense of solitude. You can't help but feel like you're stuck in limbo—caught between your dreams and the reality of your personal life.

You take a deep breath and a long sip of the rest of your first drink, the cool liquid doing little to ease the heat of frustration building inside you. You tell yourself you should be happy, grateful even. But right now, all you can think about is Patrick, and how much easier it would be if he were here with you.

But he's not. And maybe he never will be.

Maybe no one will.

Maybe you will die alone, your tennis racket as your only companion.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You turn, startled, "No-" you start, but then the blur of blonde hair comes to focus and you're stumbling over your words, "Art? What- what are you doing here?"

"Oh," he smiles, a shy faint red blush already growing on his pale skin. He sits beside you, almost hesitantly, "Just stopping by the city. I saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." You return his smile, albeit a bit warily.

It's been years since you last spoke to Art properly, though your paths have crossed a few times. You've seen him in magazines, TV, and brief passings usually at major tournaments—Wimbledon, the Australian Open, the US Open. Each time, there were shy smiles and waves from across the room, lingering eyes, and awkward conversations where mutual friends tried to reintroduce you as if you hadn't once known each other

Art looks different every time you see him. His hair, now a little shorter than you remember, still maintains that boyish shagginess. There's a darker tan on his skin, evidence of his time spent under the sun. Some days he has a brighter smile, other days, it's a smile that never reaches his eyes.

As he sits there, you can't help but think of how golden his hair used to look whenever he wore his old Stanford hat, the one he used to pull low over his eyes during your college days. The memory makes you aware that you're staring, maybe a little too long. But he's looking at you too, his blue eyes trailing from one end of your face to the other, as if trying to memorize it all, capturing a photograph of who you are now.

A warmth spreads through you under his gaze, and when he finally looks away, you turn too, tapping at your empty glass, pretending to seem interested in the way the ice has started to melt.

But your eyes betray you, slowly trailing back to him. You watch the way he sits, the way he calls over the bartender and orders himself a glass of water. You try not to notice the deep timbre his voice has gained over the years, and how it resonates in the noisy bar. He looks at you, then the empty seat on your other side, and finally scans the room anxiously, as if he's searching for someone or something.

"He's not here," you finally say, breaking the silence that has grown too heavy. "If that's what you're wondering."

He nods, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "What city is he in now?"

"Vegas, I think."

He makes a face and rests his chin on his hand. "There's no challengers in Vegas this month."

"Then he's just visiting. I don't know." The truth is, you don't want to talk about Patrick right now. Especially not with Art. Not after the way they ended things. You watch Art shrug, and the bartender sets your drink in front of you. You take a grateful sip, savouring the blend of flavours. Art holds his glass carefully, and the two of you sit in strained silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

You can't help but ask, "What are you doing here? In Manhattan?"

"I have an interview tomorrow. For the New York Times," Art says, leaning back slightly. He seems a little surprised as if he expected you to sit there without acknowledging him for the whole night. It makes you wonder what he thinks of you. "They're doing a piece on my career, the highs, the lows... the beginning and stuff."

You study his face, trying to gauge his emotions. You know what it's like to be interviewed, to have a team of people making you look your best for photos and another team crafting answers to help you maintain your reputation. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at once. "Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Olympics? That's huge..." He continues talking, his lips moving, but you’re barely registering the words. For the first time that night, he seems genuinely enthusiastic, a faint spark in his eyes as he talks about you, about London, gesturing with his hand in excitement.

That's when you notice it. The gold around his finger. It glimmers under the warm lights of the bar, catching your eye like a beacon. You can't stop staring at it even after he's done talking.

"Oh, yeah. It's great." The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. You struggle to find the right response, not wanting to be rude. "You're married?"

His face falls, and he looks down at his hand resting on his lap. "Oh, yeah, yeah. We, uh..." He scratches the back of his head, his eyes darting up to meet yours briefly before looking away. He seems nervous, like he's bracing for your reaction, worried to tell you, as if you weren’t supposed to know at all. "We got married last year. We kept pushing the date for a while because we were... we were busy... and stuff just kept getting in the way."

"We...?"

"Tashi."

"Tashi," you echo, the name tasting foreign and bitter on your tongue. "You're married? You married each other?"

He nods, "Yeah, we've been engaged for a few years now. You haven't heard?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "No, uh. My coach tries to keep me away from certain news... my mom suggested it. So I don't get uh, distracted."

This is exactly the kind of situation your team has been trying to avoid.

The reality of his words sinks in, and you feel a sharp pang of something—loss, regret, maybe even jealousy. The air around you feels thicker and harder to breathe. Each word he says feels like another brick being laid on your chest, pressing down, making it harder to stay composed.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You force a smile, but it's a fragile thing, threatening to shatter at any moment. "That's... that's great, Art. I'm happy for you. Really. How was... how was the wedding?" Your mind races with thoughts of broken promises and missed opportunities. You imagine Tashi in her wedding dress; you know she looked beautiful. The image stabs at you, and you wince.

"It was beautiful. Both our families came in, and we kept it traditional, in a church. It was..." He pauses, watching you before adding, "It was a small ceremony. Private. Just family."

His words twist the knife deeper. Tashi's family used to see you as such. "No, yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want any trouble at the wedding. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the both of you." You turn to the bartender, desperate to keep your voice steady. "Hey, can I get another drink? Something stronger?"

Patrick was right; your stupid orange juice won't get you through the night.

Art watches you with concern, his brow furrowing. "How many of those have you had?"

You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Not enough."

"Does your coach know you're drinking?"

"Does yours know you're talking to me?"

Art leans back, his posture stiffening. He turns to his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he takes another sip. The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable. You watch as he processes your words, his expression shifting from defensiveness to something more pained. You instantly feel a pang of guilt, realizing you've struck a nerve.

You've heard all about Tashi's coaching with Art. Whispers in the locker rooms during tournaments, hushed conversations about how she's pushing him until he cracks. You never wanted to believe it, never wanted to think that Tashi, of all people, would be the one to break him down.

"She calls you Ace, you know."

You make a face at the name. A journalist had written an article about you a few years ago when you won your first US Open, nicknaming you Ace since your serves were almost impossible to hit. The nickname stuck, plastered across headlines, magazine covers, and merchandise. People even bet on you becoming the youngest tennis player with the most aces in history before the season ended. You were only off by a dozen.

"Does she?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected.

"You do have a killer serve."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Killer." The word feels bitter on your tongue. "Tashi used to hit those back at me like it was nothing."

Art nods, taking another sip of his drink before pausing to look at you. "Only 'cause she knows you."

"Knew," you correct him.

The silence stretches again, heavier this time. You're about to say something, anything to break it, when Art speaks again, his voice softer, more earnest.

"I miss you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I do," he insists, leaning forward, his eyes searching yours. "I miss hanging out with you. I miss playing with you. Watching your games live and not recorded on my TV."

"Art, c'mon." You feel the dread crawling up your throat, wishing you had left the bar sooner. Every word he says seems to pull you deeper into a past you've been trying to escape. Art has done nothing but throw you off your game all night.

"I miss you outside of tennis, too," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss our late-night walks, studying in the library. You remember those?"

"Of course I do."

"Tashi misses you, too," he says, and you can tell he's crossing a line, testing your patience. You can feel the corner of your mouth twitch, your eyes unable to meet his. "She tells me every night. She's always keeping up with your stats, watching all of your games, rewatching your old ones. She makes notes for you, how you could improve. She wants to coach you."

"Art, stop it," you finally snap, turning to face him. The night feels ruined, any semblance of peace shattered. Was this all some elaborate scheme against you? After all these years, is this how they repay you? Out of spite? Is that what it is, a way to get back at you because you somehow got it all, and Tashi's taking whatever she can scrape off from Art?

"I don't want her to coach me. And I highly doubt she wants to coach me either."

"I booked the hotel," he says suddenly, his voice softer, more sincere. "She doesn't know you're here. And I really think it will be good for you two to talk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, placing it carefully on the bar in front of you. "Here's our room number. I'll be out tonight with some friends, so the room is yours till late. Just, don't kill each other or break anything if you fight."

"I'm not going—"

"She really does miss you," he interrupts, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, might relent.

You stare at the piece of paper, feeling its presence like a burning brand. Art stands up, hesitating for a moment as if he wants to say more but thinks better of it. "I mean it. Think about it," he murmurs before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space of your mind.

You watch him go, each step he takes pulling at the threads of your carefully constructed facade. As he nears the entrance, your eyes follow him instinctively, and that's when you see her. Tashi. She's standing there, with her bags looking around with a familiar intensity, her eyes scanning the room until they lock onto yours.

You feel sick.

Meeting Art was a pleasant surprise; he makes your heart race and your cheeks burn. But Tashi makes your heart stop and your brain shut off.

She looks different—older, more mature, hair straight and cut to a mid-length but also a lighter colour—but still heartbreakingly familiar. Her eyes widen slightly as she recognizes you.

She opens her mouth as if to say something when Art stands next to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, but no words come out.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

The weight of her gaze is too much. You're the first to look away. You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. "Excuse me," you mutter to the bartender, slapping a couple of bucks on the counter. Your voice feels distant, and detached, as if it belongs to someone else.

You push through the crowd, your mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. You need air. You need space.

As you reach the elevator, you can feel Tashi's eyes still on you. But you keep moving, your footsteps quickening with each step. You need to focus on tennis. That's the only thing that's never let you down.

Tashi had once picked tennis over you, and now it was your turn to do the same.

You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it as you finally let out the breath you've been holding. The walls seem to close in on you, and you slide down to the floor.

You need to remember why you're here. For the game. For the dream. And that has to be enough.

Only one problem.

You can't sleep.

Hours later, you find yourself in the hotel gym, the quiet hum of the machines the only sound in the stillness of the night. Your mind is racing, a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions you can't control. Desperate for an outlet, you hop on a treadmill and start running, hoping to exhaust yourself into some semblance of peace.

Anything is better than sitting in the hotel lobby, scouring the internet on the public computer for any proof of Art and Tashi's marriage while drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Art was right, it was a small wedding. There were almost no photos of it caught by the paparazzi, only articles upon articles talking about it, magazine covers and everything. God, how could you have missed this? How out of the loop were you?

There was only one photo posted, and it was from Tashi's Facebook and Instagram from less than a year ago; a picture of just her hand holding onto Art's, where you can see her wedding ring. There was no caption. But the photo had millions of likes.

You wonder if Patrick knew. He probably did. He stalks her account religiously and only recently started to tone it down. And then there's you, who had her blocked on everything since your last argument.

The music playing in your ears drowns out the world around you, a heavy beat pulsing as you hum along. Your eyes fixate on the rising numbers on the treadmill screen, sometimes glancing out the window at the city skyline, other times catching your silhouette in the glass reflection.

Sweat makes your clothes cling to you like a second skin, rolling down your spine in rivulets. You're still a little tipsy from your drinks, the taste lingering in your cheeks, but you think you're sober enough that a few more miles will drain it all out.

Art's words are burned into your mind. The wedding you were never invited to, how he suddenly wants to be friends again. You can see where he's coming from; tennis is lonely. You're lonely. You press the button to go faster, your legs burning as you push yourself harder, trying to escape the thoughts that chase you.

You don't hear the door click open, and it takes a few seconds for you to spot the reflection of someone walking behind you in the window's reflection, rolling out a pink yoga mat. But they don't step onto it, they don't move, and even worse, you catch their eye in the reflection.

Fuck.

It's Tashi Duncan.

Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly look away, panic setting in. You turn your music up higher and make the treadmill run faster, the machine whirring louder in response. Your pulse races, not just from the exertion, but from the presence of the one person you can't bear to face right now.

In the corner of your eye, you see her approach you. When you hear her call out your name between songs, you pretend you can't hear her. You pretend to be captivated by the sight of the city at night, pretend that you're lost in the music as P!nk's voice blares into your ears, cursing out one of her old lovers.

You wonder how long you can keep the act up.

Tashi moves with a determination that you've always admired and feared. She walks around your treadmill, eyes locked onto you with a fierce intensity. Without hesitation, she reaches down and unplugs the machine from the wall, forcing it to power down abruptly.

Not long enough.

"What the fuck?" You huff, yanking out your earbuds. "What's your fucking problem?"

"You're my problem," she says, her voice steady, unyielding as she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't said a word to you."

"And that's my problem. I'm talking to you," Her gaze bores into yours, refusing to be ignored. You can see the resolve in her eyes, the same decisiveness that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court.

"I'm busy," you snap, and your breath comes in ragged gasps, both from the exertion and the emotional storm raging inside you. You feel trapped, cornered by the very person you’ve been trying to avoid.

You bite your tongue, stepping off the treadmill and walking around her when she steps in front of you. You make a straight line for your bag, watching her from the mirrors as she follows you closely.

"Can you listen?" It's more of a demand than an ask, "I just... Art told me what he did. He's a little shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You have other shit to worry about."

You're taking long chugs from your water, staring at her without saying a word. Part of it is because you have nothing to say to her, and another is because you're afraid that if you speak, she'll see through you.

Tashi's eyes roam over you, lingering on your shorts and the way the wires from your earbuds snake from your iPod, under your tank, and peek out from under your sports bra. Her gaze is both appraising and filled with something unresolved between you. When you don't respond, she sighs. "You look great, by the way. On the court. You've changed your approach. You're vicious."

The compliment stings more than it soothes. You still don't say anything, letting the silence stretch between you like a chasm.

"...Or maybe you've always been. I haven't seen you in a long time. So a lot could've changed, I don't know."

You lower your bottle, swallowing the water. It feels cold as it runs down your throat, a stark contrast to the heat of your rising anger. You can't help the way your eyes drop to her hand when you pull your hair down from its ponytail. The sight of the ring on her finger feels like a punch to the gut.

She notices.

"We didn't want you to find out this way."

Your eyes snap up to hers. "And how was I supposed to find out?"

Tashi looks taken aback for a moment, her confident façade faltering. She takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I don't know. Maybe we should've told you. Should've invited you. But I thought... I thought it would be easier for you if you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had."

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of any real amusement. "Easier?

"Look," Tashi begins, her voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "I'm not a fan of the way I ended things. But I think that keeping a grudge for this long is embarrassing. We were teenagers."

"You're right," you concede with a bitter chuckle, "it is embarrassing. But you know what's even more embarrassing?" Your voice rises, fueled by a mixture of frustration and hurt. "Having your husband come to me and tell me how much he misses me. And how you miss me. But you don't have the guts to tell me that yourself, do you? Do you miss me, Tashi?"

"Of course I miss you," she scoffs, her tone defensive. "You were my best friend. My serving partner. We played and won doubles together."

"Is that all I was to you?"

"Was there supposed to be anything more?"

There it is, the moment you've been dreading, the confrontation you've been avoiding. You can feel the familiar ache in your chest, "You know I fucking loved you, Tashi," you admit. "And yeah, whatever, everyone loved you. No one could get enough of Tashi Duncan. But you know damn well I loved you for more than just that."

"Loved?" She steps closer, her eyes searching yours. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No," you tell her. "I don't. I dropped out of your groupie a while ago."

"What do you love, then?" Her voice is almost a whisper, the distance between you closing.

"I love tennis," you confess, your gaze never leaving hers. "I love winning. Turns out I'm great at both. And I love that too. And people love me. That's more than you could ever give me. Or Art."

"Even Patrick?" The mention of his name is a sharp jab; she's trying to get under your skin.

"I don't know, you tell me." You're taunting her. And you love the way she falters for a split second. "You saw him at the Open last year, didn't you?"

The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you. "Listen," she says, her voice dropping lower, "I just came here to tie some loose ends. For Art's sake. He says It'll be good for me."

"Okay," you reply, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation in your favour. Hook, line and sinker. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Hook.

Tashi's eyes narrow slightly, but she takes the bait, her expression shifting to one of determination. "You raise your arm too high when you serve. You're gonna dislocate your shoulder one day."

"I bet you're waiting for the day I do."

"I can make you the best."

"Am I not already?"

Line.

"You're one of the best at most. But not the best. I'd be surprised if you bring back bronze. You're too short-tempered for silver. Let me coach you. I'll make sure you bring back gold."

"I don't need you," you say, the words catching in your throat.

"We both know you do," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

And sinker.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. The words hang in the air, a silent challenge. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without another thought, your lips crash together in a desperate kiss, a release of all the pent-up tension and longing that has simmered between you for far too long.

It's a whirlwind of heat and passion, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume everything in its path. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your body pressed against hers with a fierce urgency.

The kiss deepens a symphony of desire and desperation, all the words you couldn't say pouring into it with a fervour that borders on reckless abandon. You can feel yourself start to become absorbed into the bubble that is Tashi Duncan, it sucks you in, and it scares you, makes you feel as if you're sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

She grips the back of your neck, hard enough that her nails dig into the skin. Tashi waits for your gasp, and when you do, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, past your teeth until it collides with your own.

You're moaning, groaning into her mouth with the way she shoves you until your back hits the mirror behind you. You're arching into her at the way she fucking smiles against your lips at your reaction.

It's pathetic. You're pathetic. Almost in the same way Art is. You know it. She knows it. But in your defence, it's been a while since you've been kissed, it's been a while since someone's touched you this way, with heat and flavour. You're a little dizzy from it, cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

Tashi sucks your tongue into her mouth and you buck your hips against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

There's a sweetness that lingers when she bites your lip, you wonder if she's wearing lipgloss, maybe chapstick. You hope she can't tell you've been drinking, that talking to Art made you spiral, that you've been bluffing since the moment she walked into the gym. Since the night she packed her things and told you she was leaving Stanford, her scholarship has no use since she can't play anymore.

When her hands run down your neck to your waist, gliding over the sweat on your skin, you can feel the cold touch of her wedding ring. It's frigid, making you shiver when Tashi starts to lick up the column of your throat. You almost feel bad about how wet you've become.

"Tashi..." you huff, her hands found their way to the base of your ass, guiding you to rock faster against her, only making you whine. Her grasp is tight, wanting. She pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your crotch closer to hers and then pushing you back down on her leg. She repeats the motion a few times, rolling her own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto her.

Tashi rewards you with a quiet moan—oh, you want her to do that again, you're going to make her do that again, louder and louder—and then, with a touch so light you could cry, she traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

You can feel your stomach nearly drop, "You're married, Tashi."

She pulls away just to laugh at you. One finger traces your slit through your shorts, and you hear yourself moan. She raises her brows, a challenging look in her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

You try to scoff, but the cold glass of the mirror behind you squeaks when you shift. Even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once.

"What would Art say?" You try to say, your hair falling over your face as you try to collect some kind of morality. If you were caught, you can already imagine the headlines and the stories people would write about you. "What would he do if he found us right now?"

"I don't know," Tashi hums, leaning closer. She pretends to think as if the answer isn't obvious, teasing you a little when she gets close enough to kiss you but doesn't. "He'd probably ask to join."

You can't stop the way that thought alone makes you melt. You remember the jokes Patrick used to make back when you were in college, of you and Tashi being his wet dreams. You can almost imagine, how he would moan at everything, want everything, his whiney moans too similar to the ones he makes when he's on the court.

Tashi rubs gently at your pussy a few more times like she's exploring you, and then suddenly she taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and she sighs against your mouth. "You're so wet. You like it when I touch you?"

"Yeah, please... touch me." You nod. And in your head, you're telling yourself you only like it because you haven't been with anyone since Patrick left for his tour.

Tashi kisses you again, and it's a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath her shirt she starts to fumble with your waistband, and you're both angry and resentful and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet.

Her fingers are clumsily slipping into your underwear and then she's there, her fingers are brushing right against your clit—you're so wet that her fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time she reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Tashi leaves you gasping and she teases you for it. "So sensitive," she taunts against your lips, pressing her thumb against your clit so she can see you squirm, pumping her fingers at an urgent pace to hear you moan. "So needy."

With each movement, she scissors her fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and she starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? I am, aren't I? I'm exactly what you need. C'mon say you want me. Tell me you need me, Ace."

"Maybe—" You're breathless, and the nickname has you tugging at her hair again, "Shit, I saw the way you made Art. He... oh god... he wouldn't be half the athlete without you. I also... I also wouldn't want to ruin my shoulder... while—while serving."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

For a moment, you worry that you've fallen for a trap, that you've said too much. You're vulnerable, a little drunk on lust and wine, and Tashi isn't stupid to not catch your sapphic crush on her since the two of you became friends, an old high school love that's never really disappeared, from slumber party kisses and how you've gawked at her, at her husband and even her ex-boyfriend.

"C'mon, Tash, you're always talking about tennis."

"Not this time."

You barely catch onto what she says. Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that she's given up on pumping her fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach—"I think I'm close... oh, I don't—fuck—keep touching me like that."

She bites your neck until you say her name. You pull her hair until she moans. Her touch is blistering against your skin. She says your name in a breathy drawl like she's pleading with you, humouring you, wanting to take everything from you.

"Keep going, please, please don't stop," you all but shout, and Tashi continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of her hand means the heel of her palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into her hand—you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you.

Every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Tashi whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming—

Distantly, you can feel her fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting—and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto her lap—but other than that, all you know is the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once. A hot sting against your skin that reminds you of the sun whenever you're on the tennis court, deep into the game you've turned into the love of your life.

It can't have possibly been this long since the last time you've gotten laid, right?

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Tashi is heaving for breath against your shoulder and her fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. "You're so pretty, you know that? No tennis talk."

You lean your head back against the mirror, a slow grin forming on your lips, "You don't think I'm pretty when I play."

"I think you're hot when you play."

You peek a glance at Tashi, meeting her eyes as she watches you, watching the way you catch your breath, skin shining against the fluorescent lights of the gym, similar to how you shine on the court. Yeah, you're a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Tashi takes slow, taunting steps back and away from you, and then she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes, you can see the most fucked-out look on her face just at the taste of your cum.

She licks her fingers clean—you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight—before opening her eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "I'll be in my room," she rolls up her pink mat (which she never used) and picks up her bag, "I'm sure you know the number. I'm hoping you can return the favour and touch me or something. You know, before you leave in the morning."

tags 🏷️: @begoniaespresso / @sceletaflores / @too-deviant / @wolflover384 / @sevikasblackgf / @supercutszns / @diorrfairy / @24kmar / @apolloscastellan

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[delcakoo]

txt’s reaction to you being asked out ⋆˚｡⋆↯˚

requested <3

PAIRING ! txt x f!reader

WC ! 4k

GENRE ! fluff, crack

WARNINGS ! jealousy, slight insecurities, strangers asking u out

a/n: the readmore cut actually worked for once a tear rolled down my leg . ty for the req nonie hope u enjoy !

// CHOI SOOBIN !

DISPLEASED. EXTREMELY DISPLEASED AND ON HIGH ALERT !!

soobs doesn’t find himself getting jealous often

he trusts you more than anyone in the world and basks in the knowledge that you’re just as whipped for him as he is for you,,,

something super big would have to happen for him to genuinely get upset

and so when he does..

oh boy

good luck dealing with a clingy sulky baby :(

everything was going SO well today too

soobin was very proud of himself for organising the beach date you were visibly enjoying to the fullest <3

you’d spent all day making a giant sandcastle, playing around in the water, having an intense game of volleyball that soobin complEtely dominated and it’s not because he’s good. he’s just ridiculously tall and barely needed to jump

and of course !! getting ice cream !!! the highlight of a very hot day

you were both still dripping saltwater, but soobin put on a t-shirt over his swim trunks while you decided to stay in your bathing suit due to the fear of getting your clothes soaked too

while you waited in line for the ice cream truck, your boyfriend was busy trying to fix his hair when you feel someone poke your shoulder

of course you turn around to investigate,,

just to see some random guy around your age holding his phone opened to a new contact, a confident smile on his face as he continuously glances you up and down

bro wasn’t even trying to be subtle with the staring >:[

“hey, so i was just wondering if i could get your number, i think you’re gorgeous.”

THE SPEED IN WHICH SOOBIN TURNED AROUND

he doesn’t even say anything, just completely awestruck that this asshat couldn’t see him right there?!?

yeah, okay maybe u could pass as friends since he wasn’t much for pda, but too bad!!

he should’ve known and now soobin has the biggest pout on his face as he stares daggers at the man, waiting for you to deal with the situation yourself unless the time comes for him to step in

you just blink in surprise, “oh, me? thanks, but i’m here with my boyfriend.”

finally, he follows your finger to meet soobin’s eyes, gulping at the way he has his arms crossed and face sporting a please-dont-actually-try-to-fight-me-but-i-hate-you glare

personally you think he looks like a cute angry fluffball

but clearly the guy is slightly intimidated — perhaps by his height and built biceps — judging by how frantically he shoves his phone back in his pocket

“oh, my bad. sorry bro,” he apologizes, jogging off before he could embarrass himself further

as soon as he’s far enough, soobin starts murmuring under his breath, wrapping a big arm around your shoulder

sulky soob activated T-T

expect him to be extra clingy and show lots of affection in public for the rest of the day regardless if he’s feeling better or not about the situation

which is SO not like him

the grip he has on your waist even makes yOu nervous

“m’ not your bro. who does he think he is? seriously. looking at you like a piece of meat, i’ll- i’ll punch him!”

you snicker knowing damn well your boyfriend wouldn’t even hurt a fly

amused, you watch as he begins tapping his foot, clearly thinking way too deep into the situation, “couldn’t even ask if you had a boyfriend first! do i not look boyfriend-y enough?” his heart shaped lips form a frown, showing off his dimples unintentionally

“love, you’re the most boyfriend-y guy here, okay? did you forget how that guy nearly shit his pants when he saw you?”

a childish grin sports soobin’s cheeks at that, pride flowing through him and making you chuckle in return

“now c’mon big baby, what flavor are you getting?”

yeah you’ve made him feel a bit better about it

but don’t expect him to be anything but attached to your hip all day <\3

even when you go to the washroom he’s standing outside the door like a guard dog

constantly on the lookout as if that guy is plotting to randomly show up and steal you away !! he has to be sure :( !!

when you tease him though,, he of course gets all defensive

“ay, you wouldn’t be laughing if it was some girl trying to ask me out! you don’t understand.”

when you tell him that he’s right and that you’d be pissed too, he feels a bit better n’ goes back to having only a sliGht pout

but pssst secret

some cuddles and kisses when you get back home should fix him right up <3 !!

// CHOI YEONJUN !

the most atrocious yet blank stare imaginable

he wouldn’t even process what’d happened for a few seconds like

huh 🧌 that’s. that’s my girlfriend what do u mean. doesn’t everybody know she’s mine what no how could this happen plea

at the same time junie isn’t really a fan of confrontation and y’know

calling someone out

but in this situation IF he isn’t busy being the real life version of the standing man emoji HE WILL SPEAK UP !!

when something like this actually happened, it was originally a very chill day for you and jun <3

he invited you to come grocery shopping with him for the dorm

and man oh man he looks so boyfriend with that plain white tee and half his hair in a lil’ ponytail T-T

you tried not to ogle him the whole time

but clearly you weren’t doing well considering he already caught you staring twice …

“yah, cutie,” yeonjun barks with a teasing look on his face, “stop drooling and go get soobin’s bread. i’ll be in the ramen aisle.”

you roll your eyes but listen anyway, making your way two aisles over to find the bread section containing a man who’s carefully glancing at his phone, then back at the display with a lost expression

as you get closer you quickly realise he’s having trouble finding the bread on his list, so of course you decide to help him out like a good citizen

“is this the one you need?”

the man whips his head up at your voice, a grateful smile on his face as he nods and acceps the loaf carefully

“yeah, thanks. you’d think being so tall i could find things easily but..” shyly, he looks away, ruffling his bangs habitually

you chuckle while grabbing a loaf of soobin’s favorite bread, feeling the guy watch closely from beside you

“i uh, actually recently moved here and i was thinking,” he swallows, “would you want to help me find a good place to eat? on me, of course.”

you blink

was he asking you as a friendly gesture of thanks or as a date

you honestly couldn’t tell

“well i’ll have to ask my boyfriend, he’d probably wanna know the details and stuff. or maybe he could come with us?”

“oh, that isn’t really—“

just as he opens his mouth to reply, a familiar pale arm wraps around your waist and pulls you into a sturdy chest

“hey princess,” yeonjun aggressively pecks the top of your head, a gesture that has your stomach swooning, “who’s this?”

obliviously, you smile, “oh, we just met here and he was going to take me to—“

since you were in front of him, you didn’t get to see yeonjun’s cold stare that caused the man to quickly put his free hand up in surrender

“oh, no no, nevermind that! sorry— uh, thank you again.” he barely even finished his sentence before turning around and storming off, ears bright red

you begin to question why he was suddenly rushing, but you’re snapped out of it by none other than your boyfriend swivelling you around to face him

yeonjun just stares at you for a moment

looking carefully at your features before cupping your face and leaning down for a kiss

his lips were always so plush n’ soft and you desperately wanted to keep feeling them but

it couldn’t be too long as you were still in a grocery store after all

but even once you pull away yeonjun grabs your hand tightly

“i leave for five minutes and other guys are already hovering around you like flies,” he complains, duck lips turning down cutely

“now you know what it’s like,” you snort, rubbing his knuckles with your fingers laced through his. “you know i’m only yours, ignore them.”

he looks down at you, a fond yet playful gaze in his pretty eyes

“oh really? what are you? i think i forgot, say it again~”

“yours, dumbass,” you can’t help but smile at his antics ^^

“that’s right, mine. mine. all mine.” with each word, yeonjun gives your head another loving smooch <3

// CHOI BEOMGYU !

now this one ..

hate to break it to you but gyu may start laughing and mocking the guy as soon as he’s gone

he finds you rejecting other men hilarious, especially watching the way their face falls in defeat :)

butttt sometimes he gets a little irked out,, especially when the guy has pretty much anything better than him whether it be height or just neater hair

n’ even though you reject those kinds of guys just as quickly as any other, his insecurities tend to eat away at him

so make sure to reassure your boy !!

you and beomgyu decided to bus downtown for a day at the cat cafe that recently opened

things were going better than expected considering going on a weekday apparently meant not many other customers would be around ^^

plus the amount of lockscreen-worthy photos you got of gyu with kittens was astronomical HOW WERE YOU GONNA CHOOSE!!

out of the corner of your eye though, you couldn’t help but fidget at the feeling of the employee staring daggers at you

and at first you worried you were doing something wrong, but all you’ve been doing thus far is play with a grey kitten, laugh at gyu, and take a million pictures

“this one really likes me. i think we should take him home,” beomgyu declares, holding up a small white kitten to demonstrate

but when you don’t reply, he sends you a concerned gaze, “you okay?”

“yeah.. just, that guy won’t stop staring at me.”

when he looks to see who you were talking about, a frown pulls onto beomgyu’s lips

the man was even taller than him and had soft, neatly parted black bangs that somehow rested perfectly by his eyes

don’t even get him started on the uniform he attired being pulled up a bit to reveal tight muscles against his arms, what’s a guy like that doing working at a cat cafe of all places?

beomgyu turns to you, placing the white kitten back onto the floor, “want me to go tell him to stop? i can be very intimidating~”

you watch as he wiggles his eyebrows and snort, “it’s fine. i wanna go ask him about this grey kitten anyway, she’s cute.”

immediately, gyu stands up along with you, “well i’m coming too.”

what? he didn’t want that guy talking to you one on one >:[

as you make your way over to where the employee stands behind a counter, a smile quickly rises to his face when he catches you approaching

“hey there, can i help you with anything? would you like a drink?”

the whole time he never takes his eyes off of you, and beomgyu crosses his arms at the realisation that this man was totally ignoring him! the audacity!!

so of course he opens his mouth, “yeah, actually. i’ll get a latte, please.”

finally, the man turns to him, and his expression falters for a second before he nods and gets to work

you give beomgyu a strange look that he ignores

“you don’t even like lattes,” you murmur with furrowed brows

he simply nods to the kitten in your arms, a defensive glare on his face, “yah, don’t forget what we came here for.”

just in time, the man turns back to you while finishing up the latte and sliding it over to your boyfriend, who emits a barely audible ‘thanks’

a smile quickly returns to his face as he takes you in, along with the kitten you’re holding, “anything for you, pretty girl?”

what

what’d he call you

beomgyu’s jaw DROPS touches the ground even

that is HIS nickname for you!!!

he immediately frowns, a competitive gleam in his eyes as he reaches down to pat your head

“she is pretty, isn’t she?”

apparently the guy didn’t get the hint as he quickly agrees with a cheery ‘of course’ 👎

you seem equally confused but you quickly cough and speak up, “i— uh, i was just wondering what breed this kitten was.”

with another cheesy smile that has beomgyu gagging, he replies, “that’s a british shorthair. we actually have a new litter of shorthairs arriving next week. if you decide to stop by i could give you a personal introduction.”

the man winks, sending another surge of fury through beomgyu, “along with a coffee on the house, of course.”

… it honestly wasn’t a bad deal

but judging by the way beomgyu grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the exit, you assumed it was a no

“sorry, thanks for the offer!” you barely make out before the cafe door slams closed

“along with a coffee on the house, of course,” beomgyu mocks the man’s deep voice, face scrunched up obnoxiously while you groan next to him

“don’t let him ruin our nice day baby, c’mon,” you reassure the boy, smoothing out his frustrated wrinkles with your thumb, “i’ve already forgotten what that loser looks like.”

beomgyu’s snickers, relief taking over his features as he stares down at the sidewalk

“mkay. you think i’m better looking, right?”

“he isn’t even competition next to you.”

he gets giddier by each word, slowly going back to his regular self whilst a small :> rises to his lips

“and you’re all mine, right?”

“yeah,” you bump his shoulder, smirking playfully, “and you’re mine?”

his smile grows, “obviously.”

gyu mostly stays positive like that through the remainder of the date, but later you may find him sitting and staring off into space, once again reminiscing on what could’ve made that guy think you weren’t taken, if he wasn’t good enough, etc

but don’t worry! as long as you’re ready to offer words of affirmation and big spooning, he’ll be back to you in no time ^^

// KANG TAEHYUN !

not a very big reaction

it’s terry we’re talking about !! our unfazed king

he knows you’re his, what’s there to worry about ^^

honestly he might even chuckle at whoever had the confidence to try and ask you out rigHt in front of him

he lets you deal with it yourself unless it escalates in any way,, in that case oh boy is he ready

mans can finally put those hard-earned muscles to use <3

anways so you and tyun were having a nice lil’ outing at a cafe for lunch

being seated by the window, you spent every few seconds pointing at random things outside like literal cats <3

at one point a squirrel ran by and you immediately pointed at it going ‘you’ THEN TYUN DID HIS CUTE GIGGLE

he was in one of his cute moods and you could swear his eyes held the whole world when he smiled at you like that :(

that kinda changed when the waiter came though,,

you were a bit oblivious, but taehyun quickly caught on to the way the young man’s gaze would linger on you each time he handed you something no matter it was your drink, a napkin, absolutely any reason he could use to stAre at you

and despite him not being a very confrontational person, he makes sure you’re fully aware of what he sees

“ that guy totally wants you,” he comments as if it was something as simple as the weather 💀

meanwhile you nearly choke on your drink, “that— what? who?”

“waiter guy.”

“and at first you smile, “aww, you jealous?”

but of course ,, big mistake

“of what? you’re in love with me, aren’t you?” HE’S SO GRHRRGFH

you do that classic pouty pout and taehyun secretly wishes the table wasn’t there so he could lean over and kiss it away because aWww <3

bUt after that incident things were running smoothly, and since the waiter hadn’t returned for a while, taehyun figured it’d be a good time to run to the bathroom

well

apparently he couldn’t get a moment of peace because as soon as he waddled back to where you were seated, waiter guy had his elbow on the table, writing something on a sticky note while murmuring something that taehyun could only catch a few words from

“—can always call me if he messes up, i’ll be waiting.”

OOOHH yeah no he’s shaking in fury on the inside but stays cool on the outside

the sound of your sweet voice telling the man you weren’t interested and that something like that would never happen manages to cool him down a bit, but tyun still makes sure to bump the man’s shoulder extra hard while pacing back to his seat

“what’d i miss?” your boyfriend’s voice is so calm as usual,, but also somehow scary and cold n’ even yOu get nervous!!

“i- uh, enjoy your meal.”

taehyun SCOFFS as the man wobbles away with his tail tucked between his legs, “how pathetic,” he frowns

ouch…

you reach over to his knuckles which instantly softens up his tense muscles, watching as he sighs

“see, you’re just too gorgeous. it gets bothersome,” as usual, his voice is calm, but this time laced with a hint of dramatic playfulness, making you giggle shyly

you’ve gotten better and better at reading and understanding your boyfriend’s speech habits and tones, which is something not many could successfully do ^^

that’s pretty much it though

he might bring it up another time as almost a little inside joke between you guys, but he prefers to say that the guy was too irrelevant to bring any more attention to !!

but also

on the bill..

taehyun reattached that sticky note he tried to hand you and wrote something on it

unfortunately he folded it so you never got to see, but judging by the nervous stutters the waiter let out while handing him the receipt, you guessed it wasn’t too polite

your mind is taken off that real quick though when his larger hand is cupping yours :D

“c’mon princess,” with the gentlest forehead kiss ever, “we won’t be back here, that’s for sure.”

// HUENING KAI !

does that thing where his head just frantically shakes between u two like O-0

nervous chuckles awkward foot movements

starts inwardly panicking like fUck what should a boyfriend do in this situation SHOULD I BE PUNCHING THAT GUY

because lowkey

he doesn’t care that much,,

he trusts you fully n’ knows that guy is getting rejected

by the end of the whole fiasco he may end up having a nice conversation with the stranger as if they’re besties

they’ll be discussing how awful the weather’s been in the past week while you just stand there utterly gobsmacked

..he’s hyuka what’d you expect

however

do note that your boy may become unusually clingy after it’s all over

and if you question him he may or may not gaslight you into thinking everything’s normal out of embarrassment <3

anyways SEGWAY GOES HERE (coughs. so smooth)

being the rock-paper-scissor loser that you were

your co-workers left you alone to close up the local convenience store for the night (boooo tomato tomato)

closing was in a mere five minutes, and you were more than ready to book it out the door n’ spend your remaining waking hours watching anime with kai

AND all his plushies of course ^^

besides that NOBODY else was invited

not even soobin despite how he usually loves watching anime with you guys :(

kai insisted it was his very much needed alone time with you

so when the bell above the door jingles, a smile already makes it’s way to your face, expecting to see your boyfriend there and ready to drive you home

well.. not exactly

a man that looks around your age runs in, quickly sprinting over to the grocery section

and you’re just like well. shit.

if this is a robbery you’re fully prepared to sacrifice everything in the store

what’d they expect paying you minimum wage ??

but before you even raise your hands in surrender, the man has already made his way to the cashier, panting and huffing as he drops his basket onto the counter

“sorry, i know you close in a few minutes but if you could ring me up it’d be really, really great.”

you blink

“oh. yeah, sure. sorry, i thought you were a thief this whole time.”

watching you scan his items, the man giggles, “my bad. it’s.. a long story.”

“clearly, if you’re buying energy drinks at this time of night.”

again, he chuckles, leaning his palms on the table. “hey, you’re quite cute,” just as he speaks up, the doorbell rings again, “could i get your number?”

meanwhile you lift your head to see kai, who is now awkwardly staring between you both with a nervous smile on his lips

facepalming inwardly, you clear your throat, “uh- sorry, my boyfriend is- um, right there.”

when the guy turns to face him, kai just coughs with a barely audible, ‘hi’

“shit, that’s embarrassing. my bad— again.” you almost feel pity as the man fumbles to put his card back in his wallet, grabbing his bag and speedwalking to the door

but right before he can leave, kai speaks up out of nowhere, “where- where’d you get your jacket?”

you give him an odd stare, matching the guy who backtracks in confusion, “uh, i dunno. why?”

“i think i have the same one, that brand is super underrated,” kai grins nervously, and honestly, you’re starting to feel like a proud mom watching her kid make their first friend at pre-school

after the stranger gasps and brings up how he’s never met anyone else who knows it, they ramble for another few minutes before he eventually checks his phone, apologizing and saying that he needs to leave

nOt without exchanging numbers with your boyfriend of course

when kai turns around to see you shaking your head in disbelief, he bursts into a fit of screechy dolphin laughter

“he came for your number and ended up with mine instead!”

you smack his shoulder, countering the endeared smile growing on your lips, “god, you’re insane. who the hell makes friends with a guy who asked their girlfriend out minutes prior?”

grabbing your bag for you, kai throws it over his shoulder and wiggles his brows, “your boyfriend does, cutie. i personally think i handled it great.”

“yeah, whatever. go watch demon slayer with him instead.”

he pinches your cheek, cooing mockingly, “aw, no need to be jealous! i only wanna watch with my pretty girl~”

he’s acting all cocky right now

but right as kai starts to gets sleepy, he begins mumbling on about how much he doesn’t like when others try to steal you from him, and that he’ll do anything to be the one staying by your side permanently ^^ <3

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ feedback is always appreciated + motivating for me to post more!

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

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[utterlyotterlyx]

Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Petty games don't work well with Azriel, but you never learn, do you?

Warnings - angstttt, pettiness, feral Azriel, possessiveness, lil bit of fluff, smut, oral m!receiving, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, shadow play, unhinged Az, basically just smut tbh

Tension and anger echoed about the study, it was so stifling that even Rhys had no option but to dart his gaze between Azriel and yourself as you both stood opposite one another, chest to chest, shouting at one another due to your sheer luck and dangerous stupidity.

It wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself, but you knew you had only returned from your latest mission in tact by the skin of your teeth and sweat on your brow. Azriel had known the severity of the situation when you had muted the bond, and that made him morph into a feral beast.

Cassian had received the initial onslaught of his anger, his cheek throbbing and bruising as he sat lax in one of the armchairs with a rag full of ice pressed to his skin.

Muting the bond was something he had forbidden you to do, no matter what, and you had gone and done it.

"I couldn't risk your tugging distracting me whilst we tried to get out of there," you shot, shouting up at his towering frame that cast a shadow over you.

Even his shadows had retreated behind him, occasionally begging their master to stop shouting at you, that their pretty love was alive and well, they begged him to hold her and love her, but he was too angry to even think of it.

How could you be so foolish? Azriel had told you not to make all of the mistakes that you had, and you hadn't listened to him, not for a mere moment. It was in that moment that he loathed your cockiness and wit.

Clenching his fists, Azriel's nostrils flared, you stood toe to toe with him, an act that not many lived to talk of afterward, new-born fire burned in your eyes, "You're so reckless, y/n. As long as I have a say in it, you won't see another mission until you learn your lesson."

Stoic. Final.

Rhys sucked in a breath at your face, a usually soft thing that had contorted into blind, psychotic serenity, even the High Lord shrank into his seat whilst Azriel slowly realised the gravity of his words, "Am I bad dog, Az? Are you going to rub my nose in my piss and tell me how awful I am?"

Darkness tugged at him, forcing him back a step, but your eyes didn't falter, didn't move from his face for a singular moment. It was too late to take it back, the underlying tone that told he that he was attempting to tell you what to do, so he stood firm. "You both could have died today because of your stupidity. Rhys would be mindless if he allowed you to step foot on another mission."

There was a cut in your brow that was leaking blood, arrows tipped with faebane were shot at you during your escape, one of which had grazed your brow. Dirt brushed against your cheeks, twigs were entwined in your hair, possibly from the fall that caused your scuffed knees; you had walked into the house limping, smirking to Cassian at the near death experience, and that made his anger roar even more.

The gaze of a thousand blades cut into Rhys and he winced, lifting his eyes from the desk to you. He couldn't deny how reckless your actions had been, you could have died, you could have left Azriel without a mate, both of them without you and Cassian.

Rhys' lips curled into a tight snarl, partly due to the anger of being pulled into one of your fights which left the city trembling, "This conversation can wait," he rose from the desk, hands flat and steady on the tabletop, "We leave for Autumn in two hours," he looked to you, "You should go and make yourself look more presentable. But as for you going on another mission, I do believe that you should take a step back for awhile, until you can understand how your actions impact the lives of your comrades."

You went to bark a reply, your shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. Rhys simply held his hand up and you growled at the action, the predator inside of you not liking being silenced one bit before you turned on your heels and flung the door open so hard that one of the hinges ripped from the wall, not before glaring at Azriel like death was imminent on him however.

"Thank you for that, Az," Rhys sighed and fell back into his seat, making a mental note to get the door fixed and reinforced.

You were by far the most fierce member of the Inner Circle, war was your middle name, you relished in your brutality, and it had astounded them all time and time again just how vicious you could be. One winter solstice, many many years ago, Amren went as far as to gift you with a pair of ornate talons like they were pieces of jewellery, the bloodthirsty animal inside of you grinned at them, and you hadn't gone into any battle without them since.

Azriel was the only person who wasn't scared of you, so it made sense that you had discovered that you were mate. It had taken you a long while to accept the bond, you knew that you were a difficult thing to handle, but he seemed up to the challenge, and he slowly broke down every defence you had thrown up around your heart.

Throwing his head back and running his hand over his face, Azriel cocked his head toward Cassian who sat there wearing a shit-eating grin that he wished to wipe from the face of the earth, "You'll be paying for that later."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Each time Azriel stepped one toe over the line you had drawn, that being attempting to control you or hinder your movements, you would react in the pettiest of ways. Sometimes you would wear the skimpiest thing in your closet and walk about the River House in it to tease him, swimming in the dark eyes of Cassian or sultry words of Mor, and you'd continue to wear it until he would forcefully drag you into your shared rooms and fall to his knees before you, begging for a taste. Other times, you'd go as far as to paint the town red with Nesta and Mor, and he would find you grinding against another male in Rita's, drunk off your ass, and the male would freeze and simper away once he realised whose eyes had stalked him from across the room.

Every attempt to rile up your mate had worked, you had always pulled an apology from his lips the moment he was done fucking you senseless. Azriel hated your little games, he made it clear often, but he always played them.

From the fury in your eyes, Azriel knew that you'd be taking your pettiness to a whole new level that evening.

Using the excuse of your cut up brow, you had managed to buy yourself an extra hour of alone time whilst the rest of your family departed for the Autumn Court.

It was Eris' birthday, and the new High Lord had invited you all as a notion to strengthen the newfound alliance between the courts, and of course, Rhys had agreed. Pity for Azriel that Eris had always had a wandering eye for you, and you were certainly going to use that fact to your advantage.

Gold clung to you like a second skin, a tight and sheer strapless corset pulled against your chest, adorned in a design of vines and dainty flowers, the skirt was long and trailed behind your steps and it was just sultry enough that it exposed both of your legs, right up to the thigh, and one wrong move would expose your cunt for all to see, the only saving grace being the golden fabric that just brushed below it.

Nesta had chuckled low at the look in your eye as she had styled your hair into loose curls. No accessories were needed, the dress was a statement on its own. You had been saving it for yours and Azriel's anniversary which was three days away, but such vicious actions had led you to remove the custom made garment from its casing and wear it for the High Lord of Autumn instead.

Adjusting the straps of you golden heels, you floated through the house like a summer wind and winnowed right onto the front lawn of the Forest House, a feline smirk on your lips as you felt the bond sing at your presence. Music and laughter poured from the open windows and doors, fire lanterns illuminated the path, and the guards at the doors didn't even ask for your name as they opened them with their mouths slightly agape.

Eris was sat upon the dais, looking rather bored, and then his eyes found you and he sat upright in his seat. The act made the room turn to you, to the dress glowing in the candlelight, to your exposed skin poking from the sheer material that stuck to you.

Murmurs from the crowd were dim against the music playing from the band in the corner, and you felt all eyes on you, even the ones that were seething. Once you had sauntered to the foot of the dais, you flickered your gaze up through your long lashes and curtseyed, low, low enough for Eris to catch a glimpse at the delicious cleavage at the heart of the bodice.

From the corner of your eye you saw Cassian's mouth move, to which Azriel's head snapped in his direction in warning before it moved back to you. A smirk befell your lips and you rose, "I apologise for the lateness, My Lord," your words were seductive and you skin glittered in the light due to the shimmering oil you had placed on your hands and arms, on the calves that Azriel loved to trail kisses upward.

"Perfection takes time," Eris drawled, his whisky amber eyes fixated on you, you were by far the most radiant thing he had ever seen, and the most vicious, it made his senses sing, "I appreciate the time you spent readying yourself for me."

With a smirk, you walked from the foot of the dais, in the opposite direction of your family, and toward a table adorned with various flutes of sparkling wine, plucking one from the surface and drinking the sweet liquid as the room resumed its previous activities.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Feigning innocence, you peered up at him, doing your best not to grin at the redness of his face. Azriel looked oh so handsome, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone to give you a glimpse of his tattoos, "I'm drinking my sparkling wine."

"Y/N." Azriel's voice was low and demanding, it made your hairs stand on end and a sinful shudder crawl down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry, Azzie," you suck out your bottom lip and turned around, facing the crowd who were stealing the odd glance in your direction.

Azriel moved behind you, his breath hot on the curve where your neck and shoulder connected, "I've never seen this dress," his fingers brushed against the chain-like material.

The look on his face was not one you wanted to miss when the words fell from your mouth, so you craned your head, turning your beautiful face over your shoulder, "I had it made for our anniversary," his eyes darkened, "Thought why it should be wasted in Velaris when it would be so appreciated here."

Light glittered over your face, making the shimmering powder on your cheekbones glow.

Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers gripped your hip, no doubt leaving bruises swelling on your skin, "Our anniversary."

An innocent hum vibrated against your lips, "Yes. Seventy-four years this week. We were going to make it special. Shame."

Then you turned away from him as a familiar presence entered your consciousness. Eris stood before you, eyes low and darkened with desire, a sight that Azriel lowly growled at, "May I?" Eris offered his hand as the floor reset, and you didn't hesitate to take it, ripping yourself from Azriel's grasp and allowing Eris to lead you onto the dancefloor.

No one else dared to join you.

Surely, where fire met fury, people would burn.

Eris' hand stayed locked in yours whilst his other rested low on your hip, barely grazing the bare skin at your thigh, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as the music started, "Don't let anyone take away your shine."

The High Lord whisked you into a waltz, his steps perfectly matching and harmonising with your own, looking deep into your eyes the whole time. You had to admit it, Eris was beautiful, not as beautiful as Azriel, but still. For a moment, your forgot about the world as you waltzed in his arms, his fire colliding with the flame burning within you, and the entire room held a breath and could only watch the magnificence of it whilst wishing it was them.

The music slowed as did your steps, and one more twirl later, Eris bowed to you, your hand still in his, and kissed the marriage band on your ring finger, smirking against it slowly before rising and taking another step toward you, "I like your games, y/n," your heart began to race, "Do let me know if you'd like your fantasies fulfilled," his finger twirled your hair around it and he hummed in approval.

Then, Eris moved, taking your arm and leading you back to where he had taken you from, which was away from Azriel as he stood between Feyre and Rhys on the other side of the room, eyes wide and shadows dancing.

It should have been menacing, the look on his face, the crooked, unhinged grin and dark eyes that peered at you. All it did was make your cunt burn with need.

Perhaps you had pushed him too far.

For another hour, Azriel stalked you from the opposite side of the room, he was the predator toying with its prey, and he fucking knew it. The constant intensity of his gaze filled you with excitement and dread, until it had gotten too much altogether.

The halls of the Forest House held a chill, and your heels against the floor echoed about the vast halls and tunnels. You weren't sure how far you had walked, up a few staircases and down so many hallways that you were sure you had gotten lost.

That intensity still lingered.

Exhaling shakily, you stopped your walking and you spoke, "I know you're here," you turned on your heels as another pair of steps prowled down the candlelit hallway.

There he was, hair messy from raking his hands through it too much, eyes zoning in on you, his shadows poking up from his shoulders at the feeling of having you so close.

"As observant as ever," he purred, taking another step, and then another, "Did you really think you could wear that, a beautiful gift for our anniversary, to remember all the time that we have spent loving and fucking one another, for another male. Our enemy. And think you'd get away with it?" Another step, and your breath became caught in your throat, another step, and he was on you, his breath fanning over your face.

Backing into the wall, your heart lurched at the lethal speckles in his eyes, "Perhaps you should stop trying to take away my shine," you tried to speak as calmly as possible, but he saw right through it, and Azriel grinned.

Raising his hands, he caged you between them, then one of them moved to graze against your cheek, then the line of your collarbone, then down your arm and hip, until they lingered where your dress and thigh met, "Shine all you want, my mate, I won't stop you," his fingers dipped under the hem of the skirt, caressing your thigh, "But what I will not tolerate, is you wearing a thing meant for solely my eyes alone before others, and bathe in the sinful thoughts of them."

He was beyond pissed. It was hard to see anything but the Spymaster of the Night Court in those eyes.

Gulping hard, you had no choice but to shrink a little, like a bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf, from the lethal promise in his eyes, "I wanted, for once, to do what I wanted to do."

Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, a feathers touch away from your lips, "And what do you want now?" His voice was rough and low, a hush above a whisper, his fingers continued to rub soft circles into the skin beneath that golden hem.

"I want..." you looked into his eyes, into the eyes that engulfed every piece of you, "I want..." your back slid down the wall an inch or so just to put some space between you.

"I need your words, Angel," he cooed as his other hand moved from the wall to run down the side of your face and neck.

"I want you," the submissive tone in your voice made him melt, he grasped your wrist and pulled you down the hall, wind sifting through your hair at the speed of his steps, until he opened a door and pushed you inside.

The room was humming with the last of a simmering fire, the last licks of flame flickering across the room. Hands roamed your waist before he murmured, "I think I'd like you to keep it on."

Spice and cinnamon faintly clung to the air, mulled wide and ash. Then it dawned you, you were in Eris' room, you were about to be used in Eris' own bed. A sickly tempting realisation.

Azriel rounded your figure and smirked, he was enjoying toying with you, if you wanted to play, then he'd play.

The Shadowsinger moved across the room, sitting on a chair you knew Eris would have spent his nights reading in, and sat down, legs spread and slouched into the cushion. Tapping his foot against the wood in waiting, you stood there, you weren't sure for what, but your chest panted.

"Well? Come to me, Angel," he purred, smirking at you, you moved to take a single step but he tutted, "On your knees."

Fire spread through your entire body and you sank to the ground, dancing your palms along the wood as he watched on with that predatory glare, "You look so good crawling for me," his praise made your core pulse, and you knew that you were already glistening for him.

Kneeling before him, in the middle of his open legs, you felt the world shift, and you knew he was about to devour you. Azriel motioned to the best of his trousers and commanded, "Take them off," your fingers reached for the belt, unbuckling the clasp before untethering the buttons to his satin briefs and pulling them down to see his cock already hard and throbbing for you, your fingers delicately curled around him and he groaned at your touch, "With your mouth, Angel."

Azriel shifted his position, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his chest, to make himself more accessible for you.

Taking him between your lips, you swirled your tongue around the head, flickering the tip of you tongue over him. Deeper he went, and you hallowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, Azriel's head was thrown back, his hand curled in your hair as he guided your movements, "You're so perfect, aren't you? Look at how pretty you look," a soft whine moved through you and you rubbed your thighs together, begging to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs.

Azriel continued to guide your head, meeting every movement to the lazy thrusts of his lips, both of his hands were in your hair now, he moaned, a breathless sonnet that made you moan, making your lips vibrate around his cock.

Within a moment, Azriel had removed himself from your mouth and scooped you up from the floor, not breaking his stare as your thighs pressed around his waist and he moved to the bed, "Do you know whose room this is?" Azriel grinned against you neck, he moved back, his face hovering before your own as his fingers moved between your folds, you jolted at the contact, "It's Eris'."

So he did know.

Azriel pressed his lips to yours and you gasped, his finger entering you, and he took the opportunity to nip your bottom lip between his teeth, "He thinks he can touch you like that, think of you like this?"

He was going to fuck your scents into the foundations of the castle, so that Eris would never to able to escape it, escape the untouchable state of your mating bond.

His lips were on you again, and he shifted his position, resting between your legs as his fingers continued to draw soft moans from your lips. Azriel pulled away, taking his time in removing the satin shirt from his body, unlacing the cuffs and drawing the garment over his shoulders, his wings flexed behind him the entire time to make you remember who exactly your mate was.

Azriel positioned himself and pushed into you, capturing your lips on his to silence your soft groan whilst he stretched you, until he was fully hilted inside of you. Then he began moving, rolling his hips back and forth, mumbling against your lips, "You're mine. All mine."

The skin on your neck was clouded in marks from his mouth, sucking and biting every part of you he could see as he rocked into you, slow and deep, trying to stay in control.

Whimpering beneath him, you took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes; his hair fell over your face and you brushed it away, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "Let go."

It was all he needed.

Azriel pulled out of you, flipping you onto your front, and positioning you so that your back was arching in a perfect crescent moon, he wasted no time in pushing into you again, smirking against the walls that were already quivering around him.

This time, he wasn't gentle.

Your mate fucked you relentlessly, you were blubbering beneath him, feeling your walls spasm as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, moaning so loud that you were surprised no one had come in to investigate who exactly was getting fucked in the High Lords bedroom.

"Az, please, I'm going to-"

A familiar flutter passed over your clit, coiling around it and you clawed yourself right through Eris' feather pillows at the touch. The others flowed through your hair and down your sides, licking and caressing your skin.

Crying out, that white light blinded your senses as you came all over Azriel's cock that was slamming into you whilst his shadows took you to a whole other world entirely.

"That's my girl," his fingers trailed down the curve of you spine, furling in your hair and pulling you up so that your spine met his chest, burying his head into the nape of your neck, "Such a pretty dress, hm?"

Azriel didn't slow down, thrusting up into you, his fist curled in your hair and tugging on it to give him access to your neck and earlobes, "Mother above," you muttered through breaths, clutching onto the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Smirking against your skin, Azriel coaxed another orgasm from your body, commanding his best shadows to stay focused on that bundle of nerves that craved attention, "Eris won't ever be able to escape this, us."

"Azriel," the possessive primal instinct had consumed him, the need to mark what was his, right in the heart of his enemies den, "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Angel."

"I want you. Please."

"How could I deny you when you're being so good?"

This time, Azriel fingers moved over your clit, sending electric white heat through your body, raw and euphoric, and he slammed into you, moving with unwavering pace until you quivered around him tighter than you ever had before and he felt himself slip.

His movements had you begging as he fucked himself deeper inside of you, through his high that had him moaning your name. Then his movements slowed to a stop, and you stayed sat on his still throbbing cock, "I hope that Eris enjoys your message."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to your neck, allowing his hands to float down the bodice of the dress that had got you to where you were, nestled on your mates cock in the room of his enemy, "I'm sure he will," his fingers drifted to your stomach, halting there with a smile, "We may have done it."

Looking down, your hands moved to the same position, slithering beneath his, "Do you think so?"

Azriel hummed against your skin, "I do," It was no secret that you and Azriel had been trying for a child for years, you knew it wasn't ever going to be instant, but you had hoped for at least two perfect glimmers of your love for one another in the entire seventy-four years you had spent together.

"I hope so."

"Me too, Angel. Me too."

Smirking, you pulled away and turned to face your beautiful mate who was still kneeling atop the bedspread, "Are we going to talk about that little scene in the hallway, and on that chair?"

Azriel mirrored your smirk, "What can I say?" he moved to you, connecting his lips to yours, his other half, his everything, Azriel looked to your swollen full lips, to your hair, to your eyes that were glowing in the dying light, he shrugged, "It's the dress."

Author's Note

👀

[quinzzelx]

Eros

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Well....How do I put this. This is Porn with Plot. Filth, with a bit of an unhinged story. You're on a mission with Azriel. After an ambush, you get into a fight and find yourselves to be captured by some sick people. Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut, pure FILTH, a bit Angsty, Slight Dub!Con, Voyeurism, Canon typical Violence, blood, Mentions of Sex-trafficking, some type of sex pollen/potion, forced intimacy, porn with plot, 18+

A/N: Guys, I swear that I DID SEE the voting turned out to be Fluff, and I will be posting that one soon. BUT- please only read this if you feel comfortable with darker tones. I had to get this out here. Jeez, enjoy. ☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

Sometimes, bad things happen. In fact, they occur all too frequently, by all the gods' reckoning. Azriel could swear he attracted bad luck like a magnet. But this? He cursed under his breath, feeling as if fate were playing a cruel joke on him.

He groaned, frustration evident as his hand ran down his face. Of all times for misfortune to strike, it had to be while he was on a mission with you. "What?" You snapped at him, your eyes squinted in concentration as you struggled to fix the sheath of your dagger. With a huff of frustration, the dagger and its sheath fell to the ground, clinking and scattering. You muttered something under your breath, wincing as you shifted on the log you were perched upon.

Azriel paced in the small forest clearing, muttering to himself. "For fuck's sake, Rhys!" he shouted inwardly, though it proved futile. Hours had passed since he first attempted to reach Rhys, to no avail. Either they were too far away or something was interfering with the connection. "I can't reach Rhys."

You snorted at his statement, rolling your eyes. "No shit, Azriel. If you could, he'd be here by now." His jaw clenched, his narrowed eyes landing on your hunched form still seated on the log in the center of the clearing. They trailed over your injured left wing, twisted at an unnatural angle. With an irritated twitch of his upper lip, his scowl deepened.

"If you had paid attention while flying, we wouldn't be in this mess," he said, his tone harsher than intended.

"Excuse me?" Enraged, you stood up and marched toward him, your face contorted in anger, a slight limp accompanying each step. "I got shot by a damn Asharrow coated in Faebane!"

"Exactly!" He snarled, taking another step to close the distance between you. "How did that even happen?" A humorless laugh escaped you as you met his gaze. "Are you serious?"

When his expression only hardened, your anger resurfaced. "Oh, you really are serious!" You swallowed the lump in your throat, closing the distance between you and jabbing a pointed finger at his chest angrily. "You!" you hissed between gritted teeth. "If you had actually listened when I said I needed a break, I might have been able to pay more attention!"

In fact, you had asked for a break numerous times. However, the group you were tracking didn't seem to consider breaks necessary. They had been abducting young females and males all over Prythian for months. When they crossed into the borders of the Night Court and ambushed a small village, Rhysand had dispatched you two immediately. Several days had already passed since you crossed into Winter, and now you were venturing into Autumn territory.

Azriel growled lowly, catching your wrist with his hand to prevent you from stabbing at his chest again. "You obviously shouldn't have come on this mission then," he said, his voice as cold as ice. For some reason, Azriel was always harsher with you. You had tried, really tried to make him warm up to you, but this thick-headed male infuriated you like no one else. There had been a time when you would have called him a close friend, someone you could confide in.

You had met Cassian and Rhys in Windhaven on the day they first established that Wingclipping was forbidden and never to be done again. You had always found ways to avoid it, making yourself sick with different herbs and mushrooms, because for whatever reason and little morals the Illyrians held, they didn't want to clip a sick female's wings. The irony was beyond you, but it worked for some decades. That day, your uncle had found you preparing the mixture that made you sick and unleashed his wrath upon you. He had dragged you outside by your hair while you thrashed and clawed at him, begging him to let you keep your wings, pleading for mercy.

As if the Mother had heard your pleas, Rhys and Cassian arrived just as a group of men were holding you down to make an example out of you. Taking advantage of their temporary distraction, you kicked up at the jaw of your uncle holding you down, breaking it. He howled in agony, clutching at the broken bone. One of his friends tried to punch you then, but you dodged him, elbowing him in the gut and headbutting him when he fell to his knees.

In that moment, you probably looked like the personification of pure fury, blood dripping from your split lip, broken nose, and dislocated shoulder. Still, you fought, not only breaking these men's frail egos but also their weak bones. Rhysand was angry, standing tall and making a strong example out of their behavior, executing them for their act of treason and hurling insults at him. He was the High Lord, and no one was to disobey his orders. Cassian tended to you, helping with your shoulder and beaming proudly at you. He started training you from that day on. They had seen your sheer willpower, strength, and potential. And potential indeed. These days, you wore not one, but three siphons. Yes, you still weren't as powerful as Cassian or Azriel, but you weren't weak either. The average Illyrian had nothing on you.

They soon took you to Velaris with them, where you quickly found yourself becoming one of Mor's best friends. Azriel was always wary around you, distant at first. But for years, you had enjoyed talking to each other. Only in the past four had he become distant again, seemingly even disliking you and your company. And you found yourself becoming resentful too. You could have lived with it if you never got along in the first place, but this sudden change made you angry at yourself for ever having a crush on this stupid male in the first place!

"Fuck you, Azriel!" you spat at him, your head red with anger. Both of you had been flying for three days straight, resting only twice. You had only spotted the arrow at the last moment, dodging it just as it was about to strike your head. But despite your efforts, it found its mark, lodging right into your shoulder. A second arrow followed swiftly, tearing through one of your wings. The pain was excruciating, and a strong gust of wind threw you off balance, causing you to crash into Azriel with full force, sending both of you plummeting towards the ground. Azriel momentarily lost his bearings, only regaining focus when you hurtled past him. With powerful beats of his wings, he caught up to you and wrapped you in his arms, but it was too late to slow the momentum. Together, you crashed through the trees, branches tearing at your skin before slamming into the unforgiving ground.

"I'm just saying that maybe Rhys has overestimated your capability," he stated nonchalantly, lowering his gaze to meet yours. Ripping your hand away from his grasp, you shoved at his chest, your voice snarling with rising anger. "Yes, I'm sorry to burden you. Maybe next time I'll just free-fall and accept death with open arms."

Without thinking, anger consuming him, Azriel growled, "Maybe you should." Any retort you had died in your throat. Wide-eyed and shocked, you took a step back, and only then did he realize the gravity of his words. His own eyes widened, filled with regret as he reached out to you, flinching when you dodged him and hurried to retrieve your dropped dagger. "Wait—I—" he called out, stepping toward you, desperate to take back his words. He cursed himself as tears pricked at your eyes. "No, I understood perfectly," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. With one swift motion, you shouldered your bag and walked toward the opposite treeline.

Azriel's heart clenched as he called your name again, pleading for you to wait, to let him apologize and take back his words. But you cut him off, saying, "I'll scout the surroundings, see if I can find anything useful," before disappearing into the woods. He cursed himself once more, sending some of his shadows after you. Splitting up was dangerous, especially when enemies were nearby. Defeated, Azriel sank onto the log you had occupied earlier, sighing heavily as he buried his head in his hands. "Rhys," he spoke again, reaching out to his brother, "We were ambushed, and I messed up." As he sat there, waiting, his hazel eyes scanning the darkening sky, he cursed himself again.

A while later, a twig snapped to his right, and his head whipped around. Had you finally returned? His shadows frantically warned of danger. Standing up, he gripped Truthteller tightly, ready to face whatever came his way.

"Behind you!" his shadows screamed, but before he could react, a blunt object struck his head, and a syringe found its way into his neck. With a grunt, he collapsed to the ground.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

Something was definitely amiss. Azriel's senses felt muddled, his consciousness drifting in and out like waves against a shore. Hadn't he just been... flying? No, he was on a mission. Flying, no, falling. A groan escaped his lips as dizziness overwhelmed him. He attempted to rub a hand over his face to clear his thoughts, but something restrained his wrists, pulling against his movements with a metallic clink. Groggily, he tried to pry his eyes open, but they felt heavy, weighted down by an impenetrable darkness. Panic stirred within him as he struggled against his bindings, the realization sinking in that he was not where he should be. Where was he? And more importantly, where were you? His brows furrowed in frustration as he tugged on his other arm, only to find it chained as well.

"Fuck!." Whipping his head around, an alarming feeling of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Surveying his surroundings, he noted the darkness but discerned the wooden floor. Good, this meant he was either in a village or some kind of building. His arms were chained to the ground next to his body, where he sat leaning against the wall. Confusion swept over him when he realized his legs were relatively free to move. Chains wrapped around his ankles, but the chain was longer. He surmised he could walk around the whole room if he wasn't anchored to the ground by his arms.

His eyes continued to sweep through the dark room, gradually adjusting to the dimness as he squinted, attempting to focus on what lay on the other side of the room. At the other side of the room, a table gradually emerged from the darkness, its silhouette becoming clearer to Azriel's eyes. As he discerned more barely-there furniture, a sense of dread washed over him. This was no ordinary room. It was a torture chamber, though unlike any he was familiar with from Hewn City. Whips, clamps, syringes, and various other implements of torture adorned the space, along with devices he couldn't even identify. His gaze lingered on a table adorned with chain locks, clearly intended to restrain victims.

Chains were strewn everywhere, giving the room an ominous and foreboding atmosphere. What kind of place was this? The smell assaulted his senses—blood, urine, and something else, something sickeningly familiar yet repulsive: arousal. His stomach churned in disgust at the realization of the horrors that had taken place within these walls. He attempted to summon his shadows, hoping for their familiar comfort and assistance, but nothing responded. Faebane. His heart sank at the realization of the poison's presence. Determination fueled his actions as he tried once more to pull on his restraints, but a piercing scream from outside the room froze him in place.

"Don't touch me!" Your voice, muffled yet unmistakable, sent panic coursing through him. Gritting his teeth, he ripped and tugged at his chains with renewed force. Outside, commotion ensued, accompanied by the creaking of a door. The sounds of struggle intensified, punctuated by a sharp slap that echoed through the room, causing Azriel's eyes to narrow in anger. "She damn well bit me," someone exclaimed amid the chaos. More noise followed, and then the door swung open fully, allowing light to seep into the room as several figures stumbled in, three of them carrying your thrashing form. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he took in your distressed state. You were cursing at them, fighting back with every bit of strength you could still muster. His eyes quickly swept over you from across the room as they threw you onto the table with a force that elicited a loud crack.

His heart stopped then. Where were your fighting leathers? What sick place was this? You were dressed in a white, very sheer and drenched dress that ended just above your knees. One of them grabbed your thigh forcefully, and he saw red. Screaming at them with a hoarse voice, Azriel struggled against his restraints, his muscles straining against the chains binding him to the ground. "Leave her alone, you bastards!" he roared, his voice echoing in the chamber. But his cries fell on deaf ears as they continued their assault on you, their intentions horrifyingly clear. One of the many males in the room laughed at Azriel's futile threats.

"Don't worry, Shadowsinger, your time will come," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. Azriel clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting at his inability to protect you. As they chained you to the table, Azriel's panic surged. Your hands were bound together above your head, your legs hanging over the edge of the table and spread, tied to each leg. The sight sent a surge of fury coursing through him. "What is this? What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice thick with rage and desperation. But his questions were met with only sinister chuckles from the assailants.

Your eyes met Azriel's, and something washed over your features—a mixture of desperation and fear. "Please," you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion, "I beg you, not in front of him." Azriel's heart clenched at your plea, his gaze filled with anguish and determination. Despite his restraints, he struggled against the chains binding him, his muscles straining with the effort. "I won't let them touch you," he vowed, his voice laced with fierce resolve. Though powerless to act, his eyes conveyed a silent promise. The one who had spoken earlier chuckled darkly as the others moved to silence you, advancing with a gag. Your head thrashed around in a desperate attempt to fend them off.

Your body trembled, chest heaving, the wet white dress clinging to your form like a second skin, barely concealing anything. It left little to the imagination, the cold causing your nipples to harden as you fought against them, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Your black wings, a stark contrast against the white fabric, remained spread out behind you, a symbol of your strength and defiance even in this vulnerable state.

Azriel's heart twisted with anguish as he watched their hands on your wings, holding you down, causing you to shiver and writhe even more. A soft whine and gasp escaped you involuntarily, the sound tearing at his soul. Fury contorted Azriel's face as he snarled at them, his anger palpable. "Dare to touch her again, and I will cut your hands off," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. But his threats were met with mocking laughter from the group, their disdain evident in their sneers.

"How would you manage that chained to the ground?" one of them taunted, their words dripping with cruelty. The group, consisting of about ten males and some females, settled a little farther away, some taking seats while others remained standing beside you. Azriel's rage burned hotter at their mockery, his muscles tensing with the urge to break free and unleash his wrath upon them. Your chest heaved, teeth sinking into the cloth they had used to gag you as you struggled against their restraint. Seeking solace in Azriel's unwavering gaze amidst the chaos surrounding you, your eyes locked onto his. "You see, we were kind of growing bored of watching High Fae," the male spoke again, his tone laced with malice. He was tall, fatter than the others, with grey hair and a posture exuding arrogance. Confusion flickered between you and Azriel as you listened. "You still haven't figured out what we do?"

Azriel's anger burned fiercely as he glared at them, his fists clenched in impotent rage. The male continued, revealing their twisted motives. They watched prisoners engage in sexual acts or forced themselves upon them, all while testing out new weapons, torture devices, and potions. They reveled in the power they wielded over their captives. "And when we found out the High Lord of the Night Court sent two Illyrians after us?" The fat, grey-haired man sneered, his voice filled with twisted excitement. "Well, well, it seemed like we're in for quite the treat. Illyrians are known for their stamina and prowess after all."

"You two especially are a treat to look at," the male leered, his gaze lingering on your exposed form with undisguised lust. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but anger burned brighter in your eyes as you glared at him. "Rumor has it," he began, circling around the table you were strapped onto, his voice dripping with malicious intent, "that Illyrian wings are very sensitive." He punctuated his words with a sinister smile, sending a chill down your spine. Azriel's eyes widened with horror as he watched the man's dirty hands trail over the delicate membrane of your wings.

A growl rumbled deep in his throat, but he remained trapped, his muscles tensed with the urge to break free and tear the man limb from limb. You couldn't suppress an embarrassed moan as the man's fingers grazed over a particularly sensitive spot on your wing, the sensation sending shivers down your spine and igniting a blush on your cheeks. Illyrians were notoriously protective of their wings; allowing someone else to touch them was considered a significant display of trust. The violation of this boundary filled you with a sense of vulnerability and violation, intensifying your anger and humiliation in the face of such blatant disrespect. The dirty male's gaze shifted back to Azriel, lifting Truthteller in his hand, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he brandished Azriel's own dagger.

"You see, Shadowsinger, we've got ourselves a little experiment planned," he said, his voice oozing with malice. Azriel's eyes narrowed, a cold fury simmering beneath the surface as he listened intently. "We've got this new love potion we've been itching to try out," the man continued, his tone sickeningly cheerful. "And we thought, what better way to test it than on our favorite pair of Illyrians? "Azriel's shock was evident, his voice laced with disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, but we are," the man chuckled darkly. "You and the lady here," he gestured toward you with a lewd grin, "will be our little test-subjects. One of you will get the pleasure of enjoying its effects firsthand." Azriel's heart sank at the realization of what they were proposing. He couldn't bring himself to do something so violating to you, not like this. Though he had harbored certain thoughts about you, this was beyond anything he had ever imagined. "I will not do that to her," he declared through gritted teeth, his voice laced with defiance and disgust. The look on your face was difficult to decipher, a mixture of fear, anger, and betrayal evident in your tear-filled eyes.

As someone approached with a syringe filled with a blue liquid, your breath caught in your throat. The cold sting of the needle piercing your skin sent shivers down your spine, your body trembling with a sense of dread. The male's smirk widened as he used Truthteller to cut the dress from your body, exposing your breasts and leaving you vulnerable and exposed before their leering eyes. The effects of the potion began to take hold, distorting your senses and leaving you in a state of heightened arousal. Your pupils dilated, your chest heaving with each ragged breath, and your legs trembling beneath you as the drug coursed through your veins.

"Lorsh," the man called for another male, summoning him to join their twisted game. As Lorsh stepped forward, rising from his chair with predatory intent, a sense of dread washed over you. "If our Shadowsinger won't do the honor, you can have her," the man declared, his words sending a chill down your spine. No, this couldn't be happening. You shook your head slightly, trying to fight against the effects of the potion as your gaze turned to Azriel once more, silently pleading for him to intervene.

Azriel's heart clenched with desperation as he watched the scene unfolding before him. He couldn't bear to see you subjected to such degradation, such violation. With a ferocity that echoed off the walls, Azriel's voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "Don't you dare touch her! I swear, I'll break your hands before I let you lay another finger on her!" His words dripped with a protective fury, his eyes ablaze with a primal instinct to shield you from any harm.

"I'll do it," he declared, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and resolve, "but not at the expense of her dignity. I'll be the one." A sickening delight spread across the male's face as he licked his lips, relishing in the twisted power play unfolding before him. With a gesture, he commanded another to throw the key for the arm chains to Azriel, a malicious grin playing on his lips as he watched the exchange.

As Azriel caught the key, the man retreated, his voice dripping with a sickening satisfaction. "You see, these chains on your legs will keep you tethered to this table," he clarified, his tone filled with sadistic amusement. "But don't get any ideas about getting close enough to kill us. You won't succeed." Azriel's jaw clenched with frustration at the limitations of his movements, but his resolve remained unbroken. As Azriel hurried towards you, relief flickered in your eyes as you locked gazes once more. Stopping in front of you, Azriel's heart hammered in his chest as he faced the daunting task ahead. His mind raced with possibilities, seeking a way to ensure your safety amidst the chaos surrounding you. "You may do as you please with her," the male declared, his voice dripping with malicious intent.

Azriel's heart sank at the man's words, grappling with the limitations imposed upon him. "Can I untie her?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. If he could free you from the table, maybe you could fight your way out of this nightmare. If unchained, you could reach a weapon and turn the tide.

But his hopes were dashed as the man's cruel decree fell upon his ears. "No, you can free her from the table if you must, but you cannot completely unbind her hands," the man stated, his words a death sentence to Azriel's hopes. "They will stay tied together." The look on Azriel's face was one of pure sorrow.

Determination surged through him as Azriel clenched his jaw, bracing himself to make this ordeal as bearable as possible for you. With steady hands, he reached for the gag, untying it and freeing your mouth from its suffocating restraint. Next, he carefully loosened the straps that held your arms and legs in place, his movements deliberate and gentle.

As he brushed against your skin, a jolt of electricity coursed through him at the sinful sound of your moan. His heart clenched with both guilt and longing as the realization of the drug's effects washed over him. “I’m sorry.” Your apology only added to the turmoil raging within him, a bleak reminder of the violation of your consent. His voice trembled with uncertainty as Azriel locked eyes with you, his own turmoil mirrored in your gaze. "Is this okay?" he asked, his words barely more than a whisper, filled with a desperate plea for reassurance amidst the chaos. Your nod was barely perceptible, accompanied by a whimper that tugged at Azriel's heartstrings. "I don't mind if it's you," you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability and trust.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your words, relief and distress flooding through him. His gaze lingered over your exposed form, desire and guilt warring within him. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't deny the allure of your beauty, the vulnerability you displayed beneath him. Guilt washed over him as arousal stirred, his body responding to the primal urge.

Swallowing hard, he fought to rein in his need, guiding your hands from above your head to rest on your stomach. As he intertwined his fingers with yours, he felt your whine of anticipation reverberate through him, igniting a heat between your spread legs. "Look at me," he murmured softly, seeking to soothe you. "I'm here," he whispered, filled with reassurance. "I'll keep you safe."

But beneath the reassurances lay desire. "I'll make you forget they're watching," he promised, leaning closer, his breath hot against your skin. "In this moment, it's just you and me," he continued, a promise of intimacy amidst the chaos. "I'll show you pleasure beyond anything you've known." Each word dripped with longing. "I want to make it better for you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire as he leaned closer, his lips grazing your earlobe. "Tell me what you need."

As your body trembled beneath him, a surge of arousal coursed through Azriel at your vulnerability. "Touch me, please," you pleaded, your voice shaky with need. His heart clenched with longing as he resisted his own desires, focusing instead on easing your discomfort.

"It hurts, Azriel," you whispered, anguish and need evident in your voice. His own arousal forgotten, he concentrated solely on comforting you. "I'll make it better," he vowed, determination lacing his voice as he sought to ease your suffering and fulfill your desperate longing for pleasure.

Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks as you squeezed his hand, seeking comfort. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault," you whimpered, self-blame and anguish evident in your trembling voice and quivering lip. Azriel's heart ached at your words, the weight of your guilt heavy upon him. "No, it's not your fault," he murmured softly, his voice tender as he wiped away your tears. "None of this is your fault."

Ignoring the sickening gaze of the others, Azriel clenched his jaw with fury. With a deep breath, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, his voice low and intense. "I will end them," he growled softly, promising to protect you at any cost. "Every last one of them." As he felt his powers surging back, an ancient energy thrumming beneath his skin, he knew he had to bide his time, to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Leaning back slightly, his gaze locked with yours, a smoldering heat burning in his eyes. "How do you want me?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire as he sought to give you control in a situation where you had none. "Az..Need you" Face constricted in pure longing you sucked in your bottom lip. With a thoughtful expression, he trailed his finger down your trembling form, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both. Lower and lower he traced, until he reached the boundary where the drenched fabric of your dress began again.

"Here?" he murmured, his voice husky as he gazed over your pubic bone, his eyes smoldering with heat. Your mewl of pleasure echoed in the air, the sensation of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With a whimper of agreement, you nodded eagerly, your face contorted in pure longing as you looked up at him through thick lashes. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathy whimper, your body writhing under his touch as you surrendered yourself to him.

"Fine," he muttered, lust thick in his voice as he gave in to fervent longing. With a swift, almost savage motion, he ripped the last bit of the dress open, a low rumble escaping his throat. Your yelp mingled with a gasp of pleasure as your body was fully exposed to him, the sudden rush of sensation sending shivers down your spine. The air crackled with electricity as Azriel's gaze swept over your exposed form, his eyes dark as he drank in the sight of you.

Azriel's mind swirled with a tumult of conflicting emotions as he hovered over you, his fingers tracing patterns of guilt and desire on your trembling skin. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was responsible for the predicament you found yourself in. If only he had been more attentive, more cautious, none of this would have happened. But even as he berated himself for his mistakes, a dark, twisted part of him reveled in the power he held over you now.

As he watched you quiver under his touch, he felt a surge of arousal mingled with self-loathing wash over him. He was sick, twisted, and yet he couldn't deny the rush of pleasure that coursed through him at the sight of you laid bare before him.

Groaning in frustration, he narrowed his eyes, his resolve faltering momentarily before he forced himself to continue. Tracing a finger lower, he felt the tension in your body as you clenched your thighs, seeking relief from the overwhelming sensations that consumed you. But Azriel wouldn't allow it, not yet. With a growl, he forced your legs back open, his gaze fixed on your glistening core, evidence of your arousal under the influence of their vile drug. Deliberately, he brushed a finger through your folds, eliciting an intense reaction from you. Your body flinched, your core clenching around nothing but air as pleasure and pain collided within you.

A needy whine echoed through the room, reverberating off the walls as you squeezed your eyes shut in desperate longing. Azriel's eyes widened at the sound, his heart clenching with desire and fury. "Please, more. It hurts," you pleaded again, your voice thick with need. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to unleash his fury upon those who had brought you to this state. You were suffering because of their sick, twisted games, and he swore to himself that they would pay dearly for it.

"I'm here, love," he cooed softly, his voice soothing. With a lazy motion, he began to draw circles on your sensitive bud, his touch both tender and electrifying. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he dragged two of his fingers down again, sinking them into your awaiting heat. A hiss escaped his lips as he felt you clench around his fingers immediately, your core desperately trying to draw them in. "Azriel," your voice left your lips in a sinful moan, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you said his name.

Picking up his pace, he arched his fingers, pumping them deeper. Unable to resist the intoxicating scent and taste of you, he leaned forward, carefully extending his tongue as he licked up from where his fingers were buried deep within you, moving steadily up to your sensitive bud before sucking on it with fervent hunger. A deep, guttural groan escaped his throat as the taste of you flooded his senses. You were on the brink of release, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you whimpered and pleaded for more. Each flick of Azriel's tongue, each harsh suck on your bundle of nerves sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your trembling form.

When his mouth left your clit after one final, intense suck, you heard a groan from the corner of the room. Azriel's keen senses immediately picked up on your movement as you started to turn your head toward the source of the sound, but his other hand, not the one still buried deep inside you, found your face, forcing you to look back at him.

His expression was stern, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with you. "Eyes on me," he ordered, his voice commanding yet filled with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment. "Watch as I make you come." With a firm yet gentle touch, he guided your gaze back to his, his eyes burning with a fierce determination to pleasure you beyond measure. And as you obediently focused on him, the weight of the room and its twisted audience faded into the background.

You watched Azriel with rapt attention as his fingers worked wonders inside you, driving you to the edge of ecstasy with each skillful thrust. Your hips instinctively met his movements, grinding against his hand in a desperate quest for release. Despite the intensity of the moment, Azriel's concentration remained focused elsewhere.

His shadows slithered through the room, silent and deadly, creeping toward their unsuspecting victims. One shadow had already retrieved Truthteller, waiting patiently for its master's command. As you soared to the peak of pleasure, your body convulsing with the force of your climax, you released a torrent of ecstasy, squirting all over Azriel's hand and leathers.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low growl of satisfaction as he allowed you to use his fingers to ride out your orgasm. But as you basked in the afterglow, the lust in Azriel's eyes gave way to a chilling darkness. With deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers from you, straightening his back as he met your gaze. Parting his lips, he slowly sucked the remnants of your arousal from his fingers, cleaning them off with a deliberate thoroughness.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he unleashed his wrath upon the twisted individuals in the room. His shadows surged forward, wrapping around the unsuspecting males, snapping their bones with lethal precision. Some shadows slithered into their lungs, suffocating them with tendrils of darkness. Truthteller gleamed in his hand as he swiftly dispatched nearly all of them, their bodies falling lifeless to the ground within seconds. But he saved the one who had dared to touch your wings earlier for last. As the man's eyes widened in fear, Azriel loomed over him, his Siphons glowing bright with unleashed power.

"You filthy male," Azriel's voice was ice-cold, his words dripping with contempt as he confronted the perpetrator. "Enjoy watching helpless Fae get violated?" With lightning speed, he caught the man's wrists, his shadows swirling around them as the room was consumed by darkness.

For each finger he severed with Truthteller, Azriel delivered a damning sentence. "This one," he intoned with chilling precision, "is for touching her wings."

“This one," he hissed with lethal intent, "is for the innocence you defiled." The blade sliced through flesh and bone effortlessly, leaving a trail of severed digits in its wake.

With each finger severed, Azriel's voice grew colder, more menacing. "And this one," he continued, his tone dripping with venom, "is for the fear you inflicted." The man's agonized screams filled the room, mingling with the sound of metal meeting flesh.

As the bloodied fingers littered the ground, Azriel's gaze bore into the man's soul, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. "Remember this," he spat, his voice a low, ominous rumble, "for every drop of her pain, you will pay tenfold." Azriel's grip tightened around Truthteller as he gazed down at the mutilated figure before him. With a swift, calculated motion, he brought the blade down once more, severing the man's remaining hand with grim determination. "Shame that I cannot take my time with you," he muttered, his voice devoid of mercy, as he plunged Truthteller through the man's throat.

While the male gurgled and choked on his own blood, Azriel withdrew the blade with a steely resolve. With a final, lethal thrust, he ensured the man's demise, his shadows already dispersing to scout the building for any remaining threats and to locate proper attire for you both. Breathing heavily, Azriel attempted to quell the raging storm of fury within him, the splatter of blood marring his face and clothes serving as a grim reminder of the savagery he had unleashed. In that moment, he longed for the confines of his torture chamber in Hewn City, where he could have taken his time with these vile creatures.

A soft cry pierced the air, drawing Azriel's attention. With a start, he turned to find you on the ground, trembling on all fours, the remnants of your once-white dress clinging to your form. With swift, purposeful strides, he approached you, his expression unreadable as he assessed your condition. Blood and tears mingled on your face, your trembling form a testament to the horrors you had endured.

Kneeling beside you, Azriel reached out a hand, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed aside strands of hair plastered to your sweat-soaked skin. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of concern. Despite the fury still raging within him, a flicker of something akin to tenderness sparked in his eyes as he gazed upon you.

Without waiting for your response, he moved to free you from the remnants of the torn dress and chains, his movements efficient but careful. As the fabric fell away, revealing the bruises and welts marring your skin, a surge of anger welled up within him once more. "I'll get you out of here," he vowed, his tone firm.

With a deft motion, he wrapped his cloak around you that his shadows had brought, shielding you from prying eyes and offering a semblance of protection against the chill of the night. "Hold on to me," he instructed, his voice commanding yet oddly comforting. "We're leaving this place, and I won't let anyone harm you further."

Rising to his feet, Azriel gathered you into his arms, holding you close as he carried you from the chamber of horrors. As you clung to him, he swore to himself that he would never let anyone hurt you again.

Azriel winnowed you to the inn they had booked a room in three days prior, the exertion causing him to stumble slightly upon arrival. Despite his weariness, he carried you with care to the bathroom, settling you down before running a bath. Your silence weighed heavily in the air, your gaze fixed ahead as if lost in the depths of your own thoughts.

"I'm so sorry you had to endure this," you finally spoke, the words heavy with emotion.

Rushing to your side, Azriel gently cradled your face in his hands, his heart aching at the sight of your pain. "No, love, it's me who should be apologizing," he murmured, disbelief coloring his tone. "I failed to protect you, and I let those monsters lay a hand on you."

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you shook your head, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "It wasn't your fault," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We were both in that situation together." Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I promise to make it up to you," he vowed, his voice laced with determination. "Starting with getting you cleaned up and taking care of you."

Feeling the lingering effects of the drug, you sank into the warm water with Azriel's assistance, trying to hide the discomfort that still gnawed at your senses. Despite your efforts, the telltale signs of your distress were evident to him, your body tensing at the slightest touch, your skin still flushed with fever.

Azriel noticed your unease, his brows furrowing in concern as he observed your strained movements. Gently, he reached out, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "Easy, love," he murmured soothingly, his voice a soft reassurance. "I'm here with you. Just relax, and let the water ease away the pain." Though his words offered comfort, you couldn't shake the lingering discomfort that coursed through your body. Despite your best efforts to hide it, Azriel's keen gaze didn't miss a thing, his eyes filled with empathy as he watched you struggle to find solace in the water's embrace.

With a gentle hand, he began to massage your shoulders, his touch tender yet firm as he worked to alleviate the tension that gripped your muscles. Gradually, you felt the knots begin to loosen, the warmth of the water seeping into your bones and offering a fleeting sense of relief. As Azriel massaged your shoulders, you couldn't suppress a slight whimper, the tension in your body betraying the pain that still lingered within you. Heat flooded your cheeks as you immediately apologized, feeling embarrassed by your body's involuntary response.

Azriel's movements faltered slightly at the sound, his senses heightened by the scent of your arousal that filled the air. Swallowing hard, he fought to keep his own desires in check, the tension between you palpable in the confined space of the bathroom.

You stuttered slightly as you tried to explain, your words coming out in fragmented whispers. "I'm sorry... I just..." Another whimper escaped your lips as you curled into yourself, pulling your legs to your chest in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort that still plagued you. "It still hurts."

Azriel paused for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in as he contemplated his next move. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy and deep, tinged with sincerity. "Do you want me to help?" Your eyes widened at the question, your body trembling slightly as you shook your head. "Please don't do this because you pity me," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Furrowing his brow, Azriel leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking with yours. "Believe me," he murmured, his tone firm and unwavering. "Me fucking you would have nothing to do with pity." His words hung heavy in the air, filled with conviction and a promise of something more profound than mere sympathy.  As you met his gaze, your pupils blown and cheeks flushed, uncertainty still lingered in your eyes. Azriel noticed, and in that moment of vulnerability, he bared his own desires to you.

"If you had asked, I would have fucked you right there on that table," he confessed, his voice low and filled with raw desire. "No hesitation. No remorse. Just us." He paused, his gaze intense as he continued, his words tinged with a hint of  need. "And I would have taken my sweet time, making you forget any other male you've ever been with. I would have tasted every inch of you, every drop of your arousal, until you were begging for release."

He swallowed hard, his eyes burning into yours. "And afterwards," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I would have savored the sight of you, laying there, fucked out and trembling, as I licked my cum from your cunt."  As he voiced his desires, your body responded instinctively, a low moan escaping your lips, anticipation coursing through you. The tension between you grew thick. In the heat of the moment, you couldn't resist expressing your own desires, your words dripping with longing and want. "I want you, Azriel," you murmured, your voice laced with need. "I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight, until I'm begging you to stop."

Without hesitation, your lips crashed into his, a desperate hunger igniting between you. The kiss was fierce, fueled by longing and desire. You surged from the bath, water splashing around you, and pressed your wet, naked body against his chest. He groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating between your lips. Prying your lips open with his, his tongue ventured forth into your mouth, exploring every inch of you, as if he was trying to commit it to memory. "Shit, you have no idea how much you infuriate me," his voice rumbled deep in his chest. He pulls you from the bath then, hiking you up in his arms, hands on your thighs as you wrap your legs around his middle. "How effortlessly you occupy so much space in my mind."

As he carries you, your bodies pressed tightly together, Azriel's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes into yours. "Gods, the restraint it took to keep myself from you," he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. "Every time I looked at you, on missions, during training... I wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes off your body and fuck you right then and there, for everyone to see."

His admission hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heat of your desire. You can feel the intensity of his longing radiating from him, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both.

"And you, my love," he continues, his voice husky with desire, "the strength you possess, the way you could best me in one-on-one combat training... It drove me mad with desire, the urge to ravish you, to claim you as mine."

With each word, his voice grows more fervent, his grip on you tightening as he carries you toward the bed. "I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you," he admits, his tone laced with regret. "So I distanced myself, buried my desires deep within, but now..." He trails off, his eyes locking with yours, a hunger burning within them that mirrors your own.

"Now," he whispers, his voice barely more than a breathy murmur, "I can't hold back any longer. I need you, more than I've ever needed anything in my life." And with that, he lays you gently on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours as he begins to shed his own clothes, his movements urgent and desperate.

As he discards his pants, his cock springs free, slapping against his toned stomach. You gasp at the sight, salivating at the thought of wrapping your lips around the silky skin of his member. Crawling forward on the bed, you meet him at the edge where he still stands, your hunger evident in your gaze as you look up at him.

"I know I'm still influenced by the drug, and I'm incredibly aroused. I can practically feel myself dripping onto the bedsheets right now," you confess. His eyes darken at your admission, wandering over your form kneeling before him, lingering on your dripping core. "But believe me when I tell you that I have fantasized about this moment so many times, Azriel."

Biting your bottom lip slightly, you part your lips shortly after. "I want to pleasure you, to taste your beautiful cock, feel it glide down my throat, and I want you to use my mouth." God, your shameless words cause a faint blush to creep up his cheeks, his dark hair still disheveled from the day's events.

His cock twitches in anticipation as you confess your desires, your words sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. "I want you, Azriel," you continue, your voice low and sultry, "I need to taste you, to feel you fill my mouth and fuck me."

His own arousal surges to new heights at your shameless admission, his gaze locked on your lips, parted and inviting. "Then take me," he growls, his voice rough with need, "show me how much you want it." And with that, he guides himself to your waiting lips, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he presses against your tongue.

As you lower your mouth towards him, you flatten your tongue, tracing a strong strip up his long shaft, relishing the taste and texture of his skin. Your movements are deliberate, teasing, as you kitten-lick at his throbbing head, savoring every twitch and shudder that runs through his body.

Opening your mouth further, you eagerly suck him into your warmth, feeling him harden even more within your mouth. Your lips form a tight seal around him as you take him deeper, inch by inch, until he hits the back of your throat. You relax your throat muscles, taking him in completely, reveling in the feeling of fullness and the primal sounds of pleasure that escape him.

Your tongue dances around him, swirling and caressing, as you bob your head rhythmically, matching the pace of his rising desire. His hands find their way into your hair, threading through the strands as he guides your movements, urging you on with gentle pressure.

Each suction sends a wave of pleasure coursing through him, and you drink in every drop of his arousal, your own desire building with each passing moment. You're lost in the intoxicating rhythm of give and take, completely consumed by the need to pleasure him, to taste him, to feel him pulsing against your tongue.

As your lips wrap around him, Azriel grits his teeth, his eyes locked on you with a fierce intensity. He watches intently as you graze your teeth over the vein along his shaft, a deliberate tease that elicits a low growl from deep within his chest. He knows you're testing him, pushing him to the edge, and he can feel the tension coiling tighter with each passing second.

"You take me so well," he grunts through clenched teeth, his voice strained with desire. "Sucking my cock like that, driving me insane."

But as you continue to tease him, grazing your teeth and tongue over his sensitive skin, he feels himself reaching his limit. With a warning growl, he tightens his grip on your hair, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "Keep teasing me like that, and I'll snap. I won't be able to hold back."

Your groan around his cock, a mischievous glint in your eyes, pushes him over the edge. With a growl of frustration, he releases you with a pop, watching as you smile innocently at him before flattening your tongue to lick up his shaft again. "You little minx," he breathes, his tone a mixture of frustration and desire. "You brought this upon yourself."

With that, he loses control, gripping your throat tightly as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure. His hips snap harshly, fucking your throat with an urgency that leaves you gasping for air. He can feel your gag reflex kicking in, but he doesn't relent, pushing you to your limits as he drives himself closer to the edge. "That's it, princess," he speaks through gritted teeth, his voice strained with need. "Take it all. You know you want it."

As he only pulls out when your eyes well with tears, gagging around him again, your jaw slack and drooling all over your chin, a string of saliva connects your mouth still to the tip of his cock as he retreats, chest heaving. He caresses your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive, before dipping down to grab your chin with his thumb.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper as he gazes down at you. "So hungry for my cock. Bet your cunt is already waiting for me to bury myself inside it."

A whimper escapes your lips at his words, and he smirks down at you, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked grin. "Open your mouth again," he commands, guiding your head to lean back a bit as he slips his cock back into your warm mouth. He moans sinfully as he sheathes his cock into your willing mouth, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

"Knees apart," he orders, his voice firm yet laced with desire, and you obey without hesitation, shifting to part your legs. You gasp around his length when you feel a cool touch on your thighs, sliding up your body. Your eyes widen in surprise when you realize he is using his shadows on you, and his smirk grows wider.

Your breath hitches as you feel friction between your legs, the shadows brushing against your clit, sliding through your wet heat. "You filthy thing," he chuckles lowly, his voice a dark whisper. "You like that," he states, groaning when your moan sends vibrations through his cock, intensifying the pleasure coursing through him. Your drugged form, heightened senses and all, nearly reaches the peak of ecstasy when one of his hands falls to knead one of your breasts and a shadow brushes over one of your wings softly. With a gasp, you pull back, your body shaking with need.

"Fuck, Azriel," you pant, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside of me." A wicked grin spreads across his lips as he looks down at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "You want me to fill you up, don't you?" he growls, his voice dripping with raw lust. "You want my cock stretching you out, pounding into you until you can't take it anymore."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, desire coursing through you like wildfire. "Yes," you whimper, your voice barely more than a needy whisper. "Please, Azriel, I need you to fuck me hard." He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling. You're going to beg for more, beg for me to never stop."

He lifts you slightly, guiding you as he turns you around, bending you over until you're on all fours, your wings fluttering with excitement. With a hand placed between your wings on your spine, he presses down, arching your back.

"God, you're gorgeous," he murmurs, admiring the sight before him. Using his knee, he nudges your legs apart, positioning himself behind you. "You're absolutely soaked."

Collecting some of your slick with his cock, he slides through your wet cunt, coating himself in your arousal. Your loud whine fills the air as you feel him grind into you. "Azriel," you moan his name, gasping when a harsh slap lands on your right ass cheek, leaving a handprint behind. Your pussy pulses with desire as you try to rub yourself against his hardness. "Fuck me," you seethe, your voice dripping with need.

He obliges, plunging into you with a force that sends your body reeling forward. You curse loudly as he inches deeper, until he's completely buried in your cunt, hitting your cervix. Azriel twitches at the tightness around him. "Shit, you're so tight," he groans, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you.

With a primal need driving him, Azriel begins to move within you, each thrust growing more relentless than the last. His hips collide with yours in a rhythm that's both punishing and intoxicating, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room.

Your body responds eagerly to his every move, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. Your moans fill the air, a symphony of desire that spurs him on further. Azriel's grip tightens on your hips as he sets a punishing pace, his cock delving deep into your slick heat with each powerful thrust.

The sensation is overwhelming, pleasure coursing through your veins like fire. Your nails dig into the sheets as you surrender to the ecstasy of his touch, your body arching against him in a desperate bid for more. As Azriel's thrusts grow more fervent, he groans, his voice strained with desire. "You feel so good," he pants, his breath hot against your skin. "You take me so well."

You respond with a needy whimper, your fingers clawing at the sheets beneath you. "Harder," you plead, your voice barely more than a breathy whisper. "Please, Azriel, fuck me harder." He grunts in response, his movements becoming more forceful as he drives into you with unrestrained passion. "Like this?" he growls, his voice rough with need as he increases the tempo of his thrusts.

You can only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming as he takes you to new heights of ecstasy. "Yes," you gasp, your voice trembling with desire. "Just like that." With each powerful thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, the pleasure building to a crescendo that threatens to consume you. "I'm close," you whimper, your voice filled with urgency. "So close, Azriel."

He grunts in response, his own release drawing near. "Come for me," he urges, his voice low and husky as he drives into you with unbridled passion. "Let go, my love. Let me feel you." With a cry of ecstasy, you shatter beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. "Azriel!" you gasp, your voice echoing in the room as you succumb to the overwhelming sensation.

"I'm not done with you," he coos, withdrawing from you with a determined gleam in his eyes. In one fluid motion, he shifts positions, effortlessly lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing. "I need to look at you while I make you come again." Your breath catches in your throat as Azriel's commanding voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine. You cling to him as he effortlessly lifts you, feeling weightless in his embrace, your legs draped over his shoulders.

The sensation of being held by him, of being completely at his mercy, ignites a fire within you as he plunges into you with a primal hunger. With each powerful thrust, you cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his skin as you surrender yourself to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins.

You gasp, your voice echoing in the room as he drives into you with unrelenting force. "Please, Azriel, don't stop." He grunts in response, his movements growing more frenzied as he takes you to the brink of ecstasy once more. "I won't," he growls, his voice thick with lust as he pistons into you with intensity. In the heat of the moment, Azriel's movements become more frenzied, his muscles straining as he drives into you with an unyielding passion. Your body quivers with each powerful thrust, the intensity of his gaze locking you in a mesmerizing trance.

The room swirls with shadows, dancing in a frenetic display of their master's passion. Beads of sweat form on Azriel's forehead, his brows furrowed in concentration as he maintains eye contact with you, his hazel eyes ablaze with desire.

Curses escape his lips as he nears the edge, his rhythm relentless as he repeatedly strikes that sweet spot deep within you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your entire being consumed by the raw intensity of his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin adding to the symphony of pleasure.

With a primal scream, you climax again, your essence gushing around him as you convulse in ecstasy. Wetness cascades down his legs as you drown him in the waves of your release. When you lock eyes with him again, you see the turmoil reflected in his gaze, the desire for release warring with the need to control.

As he begins to slow, ready to withdraw, you refuse to let him pull away. Your voice cuts through the haze of passion, commanding and insistent. "No," you declare, your tone leaving no room for argument. "I want you to fill me. I want every last drop of you."

A mix of desire and determination flashes in Azriel's eyes as he succumbs to your command. With a growl, he thrusts into you one final time, burying himself deep within your core as he spills his essence into you with abandon.

Azriel's breath is ragged against your skin, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release as he continues to grind into you, riding out the waves of his orgasm. You both pant heavily, lost in the intoxicating embrace of each other's warmth.

In the quiet of the room, the steady ticking of time seems to slow, the rhythm of your hearts gradually synchronizing as you revel in the aftermath of your passionate union. With each passing moment, the remnants of the drug that once clouded your senses dissipate, leaving you both in a state of serene clarity. Suddenly, Rhys's urgent voice breaks through the tranquility, invading Azriel's mind with a sense of urgency. Azriel's grip tightens around your hip instinctively, his focus momentarily pulled away from the blissful moment you share. "Brother, where are you? Is everything fine?" Rhys's concern reverberates in his mental voice, a stark reminder of the dangers that still loom beyond the sanctuary of your embrace.

Azriel's response is curt, his mental voice tinged with irritation as he struggles to maintain his composure amidst the lingering ecstasy. "Yes," he confirms, the word clipped with impatience as he tries to convey his need for privacy.

Relief floods Rhys's voice at the reassurance, but Azriel can sense his brother's lingering worry. "Gods, what happened, I wasn't able to reach you," Rhys presses, his concern palpable even through their mental connection. Azriel's annoyance bubbles to the surface, his desire to savor the aftermath of your passion momentarily overshadowed by the intrusion of reality. With a low growl, he sends a brusque reply, his focus returning to the warmth of your body pressed against his. "I'm kind of busy right now, Rhys," he grumbles, his tone a mixture of irritation and longing as he tunes out the outside world, fully immersed in the intoxicating sensation of being buried deep inside you.

A brief pause follows Azriel's curt response, the tension in the mental connection palpable as Rhys gathers his thoughts. Then, with a hint of playful sarcasm, Rhys's voice echoes in Azriel's mind. "Ah, I see. Busy indeed," Rhys remarks, his tone laden with amusement and a touch of mischief, his words carrying a knowing undertone that hints at his awareness of Azriel's current state of affairs.

Azriel's jaw clenches slightly at the teasing remark, his irritation flickering momentarily before being replaced by a begrudging amusement. He shoots back a mental retort, his tone dry and laced with exasperation. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of something here," he replies, a hint of playfulness seeping into his mental voice despite his attempt to maintain an air of annoyance.

Rhys's laughter rings in Azriel's mind, a warm and familiar sound that serves as a reminder of the unbreakable bond between them. "Carry on, brother,”

With a soft sigh, Azriel shifts his head, planting tender kisses along the curve of your neck, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. He hums softly against your skin, his movements deliberate and gentle as he relishes the intimacy of the moment. Pulling back slightly, he meets your gaze, a knowing look reflected in your eyes.

"Rhys?" you inquire, a hint of curiosity lacing your voice. Azriel's expression darkens slightly at the mention of his brother's name, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "Yes, but I'd rather not have my brother's name on your lips while my cock is still buried deep inside your cunt," he replies, his voice low and husky, his gaze intense as he holds your gaze.

You chuckle softly at his response, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you playfully tease him. "Fair enough," you concede, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. Azriel's frown deepens momentarily before giving way to a smirk of his own.

He kisses you once more, his lips lingering against yours before he slides out of you, gently setting you back down on your feet. As you stand there together, still caught in the aftermath, you decide to address the elephant in the room. "This doesn't have to be a one-time thing, you know," you say, your voice soft but resolute, seeking clarity in the midst of the intimacy you've shared. Azriel meets your gaze, his expression serious yet filled with a hint of vulnerability.

"I don't want it to be," he responds, his voice a low murmur, his eyes locking with yours as he lays bare his desires and intentions. "Good," you state, a sense of satisfaction in your voice.

"Good," he echoes, a soft smile playing on his lips as he gazes at you.

You move on shaky legs, his hand enveloping yours as you make your way to the bathroom together. "Now, I really want to clean up," you state, casting a playful glance over your shoulder at him. "But there's room for two sets of wings in the tub."

His body responds immediately, his eyes darkening once again as he takes in the sway of your hips while you lead the way to the bathroom, a lingering gaze on your bare ass.

"We're not returning for another day. Something came up," he sends out to Rhys, already on your heels as you chase each other into the bath.

"Sure you do, brother," Rhys's voice comes through, laced with amusement. "Just don't forget she still has to fly back home."

The flight back home indeed turned out to be quite difficult.

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 | 𝘭𝘩43 ♔

➪ summary: after playing over 30 minutes on the ice, luke returns home to his girlfriend where he breaks down from exhaustion

➪ warnings: the rangers game from april 4 (where you know, half of their teams got booted in the first two seconds), luke being tired/upset?

➪ word count: 1.8k

➪ file type: fic

➪ sunny's notes: i lowkey forgot about this fic, oh well

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

She had let herself into their apartment halfway through the second period. She had been watching from her dorm and when the first fight broke out, two seconds into the game, she knew the team was in for a wild night. As the game went on and they showed the bench and the players, she knew both her boyfriend and his brother were tired. 

That’s when she made the executive decision to “break in” to their apartment and make them dinner. She was grateful that their fridge was fully stocked and she didn’t have to run back out to the grocery store. She got to work quickly, making something easy but also filling for both of them. While spaghetti and meatballs weren’t any of their favorite meals, not that she was hungry anyway, she knew they would appreciate the effort nonetheless. 

When the game was over she sighed at the final score, after what they had been through tonight, they deserved the win. Worried about Luke and being one of only four defensemen on the ice, she looked to see how much time he was actually on the ice and was appalled when it read 32:49. She knew he had been tired these past few weeks, this team felt like it was on a never-ending cycle of bad luck. 

She was setting the plates down moments before they walked in the door, but when she was in the bathroom, that’s when she heard them. She heard the clatter of keys and shoes and walked out immediately. Luke was attempting to stand upright, slightly leaning on his older brother. Jack looked equally tired, attempting to support both him and Luke. 

She frowned as she made her way over to them, lightly grabbing onto Luke to lessen the weight on Jack’s body. He sighed in relief as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to sit down on the couch. Y/n stayed with Luke in the kitchen, walking him over to one of the chairs. With one hand she reached for his head and took the beanie he had been wearing off, using her other one to run her fingers through his damp curls. 

“Why don’t you go take a shower, both of you,” Jack whined from the couch while Luke just buried his head into her shoulder.

She felt like she could cry from the exhaustion they were displaying. She knew how they got, both of them. She had been dating Luke since their freshman year of high school. She knew the ins and outs of all three Hughes brothers if she was honest, never finding it weird or alarming. His family loved her, that she knew, but when Jack came home drunk one night and threw up on her shoes, she accepted her role in the family.

“Jack you first, come on.”

She continued running a hand through her boyfriend’s curls as she gazed at the older boy on the couch. He finally sat up, giving her an annoyed look, but she only rolled her eyes and pointed to the bathroom. She could keep Luke occupied for another 20 minutes, “Hi baby.”

Luke’s eyes were closed as his head laid on her shoulder, he mumbled something incoherently and he just sighed. She untangled her fingers from his hair and started to pull off his jacket, he whined at the loss of contact but allowed her to continue her actions. She took his jacket to his room and hung it up before walking back into the kitchen and checking on the pasta. 

Luke, despite being tired and his body being worn, he got up and made his way over to her in order to wrap his arms around her waist and dig his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her fading scent. She smiled slightly, removing her one hand from the side of the pan to place on top of Luke’s, continuing to stir with the other. 

It was silent up until Jack came back, who plopped onto the chair his brother had previously sat in. She looked over at him and smiled, “Do you guys want to eat in the kitchen or in the living room? We could put a movie on?”

The two nodded and made their way over to the living room as she finished plating the food and bringing it over to them, placing the plates into their laps. They each let out simultaneous soft thank yous before eating. They chose a random movie and watched it as y/n cleaned the kitchen and finished doing some laundry that had been pushed to the side.  

She felt bad for both of them, both for different reasons but some the same. Mostly because of how the team was performing this year, the way that they couldn’t keep everyone off injured reserve. Yet, for Luke, it felt different. She felt more or less worried about him than bad for him. He had expectations to live up to, people to live up to, and she knew his mind all too well. She knew what he was thinking, that he wasn’t good enough.

And it wasn’t just him that thought that. They both knew about the tweets that were in response to people's comments under articles, the articles themselves about how Luke wasn’t as good as his brothers, wasn’t as good as he should be, wasn’t as good as people made him out to be. It was what Luke thought about the most.

There was clanging from the living room and then a crash. She immediately made her way out of the bedroom and looked in between Jack, who was still on the couch, the shattered plate on the floor, and Luke, who was standing in the hallway. His face looked conflicted but it morphed into one of fear and sadness. 

“Hey, hey, what happened?”

“I-” Luke couldn’t bring himself to talk, both terrified and still exhausted from the game. 

On the other hand, y/n’s face was calm and Jack’s face was sad with a hint of anger in his eyes. Anger towards John and Kevin for leaving the team with four defensemen, anger towards Travis for making Luke play that long, anger towards himself for not checking in on his brother enough, and anger towards the Rangers. 

“Luke, it’s okay. No one’s mad at you for dropping the plate.” Jack’s voice was soft as he stood up, slightly wobbling from his lack of balance. 

The younger boy only shook his head, reaching a hand out to lean against the wall. Y/n moved forward and wrapped her arms around Luke who then slowly sank to the ground. Her left hand was placed against his head, keeping it against her chest as her right arm wrapped around him. Luke started crying, soft sobs escaping his mouth.

She looked at Jack who took the hint to walk back into his bedroom. As soon as he left, Luke voiced his thoughts, “I’m tired. I’m so tired, y/n.”

The way his voice broke almost made her choke on a sob. She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay, refusing to let Luke know how she was feeling right now. She tangled her fingers in his hair, Luke allowing the movement to calm him down a little. His harsh sobs turned into soft sniffles in a matter of minutes. She was the only one who could soothe him like this besides his mom.

Lifting his head, he dug it back into the crook of her neck. She kissed his head and continued to run her fingers through his curls like she had done earlier, using her other hand to rub circles on his back. Ten minutes had passed and she looked over at the shattered glass a few feet away from her. Her legs had started to cramp from being in the position for so long and the added weight of Luke on them made it a little worse.

“How about you go take a shower while I clean the plate, okay?”

He pulled away from her and nodded his head slightly. She aided him in standing up and watched as he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Once the door closed, she made quick work of cleaning up the mess. After she was done, she went over and knocked on Jack’s bedroom door, “Hey.”

Jack snapped his head up in surprise, “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Jack, I’ve known you for 5 years. What’s wrong?” She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands underneath her. 

“I feel bad. I mean I was so excited for Luke to come to play with me but for some reason, I feel guilty. I don’t know. It just feels like I should do more for him. I didn’t want to bring up the comments, I see them too, you know.”

Her heart warmed at the words, at Jack being so worried about his little brother. She smiled a little before looking at him, “He loves you, Jack. More than you know. I cannot tell you the number of times he calls me and is like ‘Jack this’ and ‘Jack that’. You and Quinn are his idols, it’s hard to not notice that. He is so appreciative of you. And he knows there is nothing you can do about the comments that people make, it’s not your fault.”

Jack teared up a little but smiled at her, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now come on, give me a hug.”

Jack leaned over from his spot on the bed and hugged her, “Can I say I love you or is that too weird?” 

“Considering, I am betting on you becoming my sister-in-law, it’s not weird. I love you too, y/n/n.”

She heard a door close from down the hall and she pulled away and waved goodbye to Jack, making her way to her boyfriend’s room. When she walked in, Luke was lying on his bed, cuddling a pillow on his phone. She smiled at him and walked over to sit down, “Hi baby.”

He looked up at her and for the first time that night, he smiled. He reached out for her and she made herself comfortable on the bed, Luke wrapping his arms around her. In that moment, Luke was so grateful for her and all that she had done for him not only tonight but in the past five years. She had been there for him through everything and that meant the absolute world to him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Luke. And I am so so so so proud of you for tonight.”

His smile was small but genuine, “Now go to bed.” 

She kissed his forehead and the two wasted no time in falling asleep.

[into-f0lkl0re]

Paige bueckers head cannons

I’m in the writing mood idk why

not spell checked (srry)

warnings: slightly nsfw at the end

enjoy!!

———————————————————————

sfw

* definitely liked you first. i feel like caroline probably introduced you guys and she was immediately internally freaking out because you were so nice and chill and polar opposite of her

* would literally do anything to impress you like would jump really high and than turn around to make sure you saw

* for example say yall are in target to get some tru fru (cuz yk she loves her tru fru. her and kk have a serious problem god damn) and you are just pushing the cart not paying attention and she is just like “babe look babe look” “ watch this” “ are you watching??” and you finally are like yes paige and she just does a run a jump to touch something really high and then just skips back to you like “did you see that? you saw that right? I jumped so high!!!!”

* whenever she is on live with kk will just constantly talk about you to the point where everyone else is so fucking annoyed

* like kk is trying to give a crumbl review in her room (that one live) and is like “this one’s mint, i don’t like mint so im not gonna try it but ice wants some” and paige is just like “did you guys know that y/n loves mint. her favorite ice cream is mint chip and like the other day we wer-“ and you just see kk roll her eyes and groan really loudly “paige let me rate this damn cookie” and paige is just like 😧 cuz she just loves talking about you sm cuz your her baby

* during games every time she makes a basket will search for you in the audience and then smile really big

* speaking of games best believe she wants you at every single game and when you can’t go to one she is like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

* and gives you the silent treatment ( not like literally) but she is just so pouty

* like “ babe wdym you have to study for midterms? I have a game tonight. you have to be there” if this is after she recovers from her acl injury she will be like “it’s bad luck if you don’t come. i’m gonna get hurt again” and then you end up going just to cheer her up.

* loves to play video games with you

* if you don’t like playing video games than she just wants to be in the same room as you

* very clingy and touchy especially when drunk

* gets very very pouty when y’all are cuddling and you have to get up to do something

* will follow you around like a lost puppy until you can’t sit down with her again

* if you are studying or working and can’t exactly talk to her or entertain her she will just sit next to you and watch what you are doing or play with your hair

* if you are doing something on the computer she will start braiding your hair while looking over your shoulder

* her love languages are physical touch and quality time together

nsfw

* dom like 95% of the time but loves when you take control

* like after a really hard practice or game or just a shit day in general she really just wants you to take care of her

* you guys do not have a stone top/pillow princess dynamic (sorry not sorry) ( like yk how a lot of times the mascs will get treated like men in the relationship. that is not your guys relationship) you both give

* she loves to please you but also loves being pleased

* strap ( that’s it)

* she likes using the strap on you but she loves to be eaten out or honestly sometimes a really heated make out session and she just gets off from grinding on you

* she leaves a bunch of hickies all over you (i mean every where)

* wishes you could leave hickies all over her but you can’t that often because of her basket ball uniform

* but best believe off season she is covered in them

* safe word!!! she doesn’t really do overstimulation to much because safe word is not the goal. a safe word is like an emergency stop button

* but y’all can give for a bit

* if you two ever got to a place where you had to use the safe word she would feel so bad

* like y’all wouldn’t have sex for the next couple days because she is so scared of hurting you

* it gets to the point where you have to be like “ i promise you will not hurt me what happened was a miscommunication you didn’t do anything wrong”

* y’all have a really long talk on consent and shit like that because your safety is her no.1 priority

* same goes the other way around

* just loves you smm and loves showing it in anyway she can

I hope y’all like this!! I want to write for other wbb/wnba people as well so please send in requests 🙏 of what y’all would want

i will def do more headcannons for other people as well just ask! I honestly have been having sm writing and i have a bunch of ideas in my notes app! ik the smut wasn’t very smutty (im srry) i don’t have a lot of experience writing smut but i am not against writing it so i will write more if wanted!

Big forehead kisses💕💕

-Faye

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter five:

➴ warnings: fighting, misunderstanding, mentions of cheating

➴ word count: 3.2k

➴ author’s note: shit hit the fan yall… who the hell is going to fix this mess..

YOU woke up at ten to two after sleeping for seven hours straight. One thing about stressed you, is that you'd sleep for twenty-four hours if given the opportunity.

But you were thirsty and you needed to get your hands on a glass of water before you died from dehydration.

So, you got up, and made your way to the kitchen, only stopping when you saw your phone blowing up on the counter.

Frowning, you picked it up, confused with the hundreds of notifications on your lock screen.

You completely forgot about your need for water. With your heart on your mouth, you sat on one of your stools, unlocking your phone and texting Grace.

Usually, you didn't care about gossip. You'd always just joke about it on Twitter with your fans and move on.

People liked to invent things and you couldn't exactly stop them. So you just let it happen.

But apparently, Jack was involved in this too. Which left you confused because people didn't know about you two. Or at least, that's what your media team would say, whenever you had a meeting with them— a weekly occurrence, ever since the album was announced.

Typing your name on Google, you didn't have to dig too deep: an article published five hours ago was the first to show up. "Former Flames: NHL Star Jack Hughes Moves On with New Flame After Breakup with Pop Singer, Sophia Montenegro".

What the fuck?

Opening it, you could swear your heart would stop any moment. Hands shaking, you read every line, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

It seems love off the ice is just as fast-paced as the action on it for NHL star Jack Hughes. The hockey player, known for his fierce plays and competitive edge, is making headlines for his personal life as well. After a low-profile breakup with pop sensation Sophia Montenegro, Jack Hughes has already moved on-and he's not keeping it a secret.

According to our anonymous sources, the athlete and singer had started dating back in April, after they met at the New Jersey Devils [Jack Hughes' team] charity gala, and kept everything in the dark for six months straight: nothing more than a few Instagram comments and likes to prove anything.

However, despite the chemistry, the relationship ended after Jack was seen with one of his exes last night, Ava Mitchell. Jack Hughes is known for his short-term relationships so it wouldn't be anything new.

We hope Mrs. Montenegro is okay, after her second break-up in less than two years. Maybe our sweet girl, Sophia, has bad luck with relationships.

You didn't bother reading the rest, locking your phone and gently placing it on the counter again.

The rational part of your brain was telling you that none of that was true, and that this was just a gossip magazine doing what’s supposed to be doing, but you recognised the girl in the photo, it was the same girl on Jack’s lap yesterday. And that was obviously Jack, holding her hand like some kind of loving boyfriend.

You sighed, running your hands through your hair. You knew that something like this would happen. All of the good moments you had with Jack apparently were just that: good moments. And now, bad memories.

You knew what you had to do. Keep going, just like you did when Harris broke up with you over text after cheating on you the night before. Keep going, just like you did when your name got dragged into the mud because of that.

But doing that with Jack, for some crazy reason, was harder than you thought it’d be. Maybe because you had a lot of expectations and watching them getting crushed right in front of you sucked.

Your phone buzzed in front of you, Grace’s picture shining. You sighed, before picking it up. “Hi,” you whispered, remembering that you were still thirsty and this was the first word you said in seven hours.

“Hey, baby, how are you?” She sounded worried, and you understood her. This was the first somewhat scandal you’ve had in months. So yeah.

“I just read it…” you took a deep breath. “Gosh, what the hell. What happened after I left?”

You heard Grace move something around before she started speaking again. “Honey, I wish I could tell you something entirely different but… I did see Jack leaving with that girl. I am so sorry. Like, genuinely.”

Your entire body felt like it weighed three times more. Your heart shrank to the size of a pea and you could feel your hand tremble a little bit.

You had seen the picture, you knew that Jack had left the party with the girl but still. It hurt.

“Did you talk to him?” Grace asked, voice worried.

“No, I— Grace, I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, feeling something tickle your cheek. You wiped it with your hands, just to realize that it was tears. You were crying. “I like him so much. I had finally accepted it, I told you— I thought he felt the same.”

“I did too. I don’t know what happened. Maybe… God I hate to say this but maybe you should talk to him?”

You let out a wet laugh. “No way in hell I’m talking to him. I made that mistake with Harris. Every time he’d do something shitty, I’d go after him and talk to him, accept his excuses, his behavior. I’m not that Sophia anymore.”

“I know, I know… I just…” she sounded uncertain. “God. Why are men like this?”

You wiped your tears, smiling for the first time in hours.

“I don’t know.”

“Also, that song you sent me… is it about him?”

You were confused just for a second, before remembering the song you wrote last night— morning?

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling just the tiniest bit of embarrassment. “Couldn’t get it out of my head. What’d you think?”

“It’s perfect. Just like everything you write,” you could hear her smiling. You smiled too. “I love you so much, Soph.”

“I love you too, Grace. Don’t worry, I'll be fine,” you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself, and not her. “Let’s just focus on the album and the launching party, right? Fuck Jack Hughes.”

“Yes, you’re right. Fuck him and not in a good way!”

You laughed, feeling the pain inside your chest ease up a little bit.

It was going to be fine.

— ♡

JACK called you three times in the past three days.

You felt shitty not picking up any of his calls because you knew he was away for the entire week, but honestly, you weren’t ready to hear any of his excuses.

So drowning yourself in work was the answer for all of your problems. Day and night, you went to photoshoots and interviews, none of the questions being about you and Jack, thankfully. You knew it was all your team’s doing but still, it felt nice to talk about yourself and your work, and not about men who did nothing but make you hate yourself.

Grace thought you had to at least hear Jack out. But you knew that if you did that, the chances of you forgiving him were high. Higher than they should be. Because you’re still very much in love with him and want to be with him at all times.

“Good work today, guys,” Russel, your choreographer, shouted, everyone clapping together. You were all rehearsing for your launching party, a mini-concert with only a couple hundred people, something to introduce your album.

“Thank you, guys, love you.” You breathed, remembering how you should go back to the gym because singing and dancing at the same time required a lot of effort.

You headed back to your house, staring at the sunset through your car’s window, sighing loudly at the traffic in front of you. It was seven p.m. and you were tired and famished, thinking about all of the take-out options you could order when you got home.

“What the…” you muttered, when you tried entering your garage, but was unable to since there was a car there already. A car that you unfortunately knew very well. “The hell is he doing here?”

Jack was leaning against his car, a crazy thing to do during winter but whatever, wearing a beanie and a Devils hoodie, while looking at something in his phone.

He was supposed to be away. For a week.

Opening your door, you welcomed the cool breeze on your skin. The workout clothes felt too tight on your body and the bag on your hand felt too heavy but you held it tight. He still hadn’t noticed you so maybe you could walk past him without him noticing you?

“Hey, baby,” and yes, of course that didn’t work. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You looked at him like he was out of his mind, but he just kissed your forehead and grabbed something from inside the car. A Five Guys takeout bag. Fuck him for knowing your favorite burger place.

“I got us food but I think the guy there messed with my order on purpose because he recognised me and he was wearing a Rangers pin which I thought was forbidden during work hours? But I never had a nine to five job so I can’t really tell.”

You continued to move, asking yourself why the hell Jack was so talkative today. Usually, he’d just answer your questions and leave it at that. But he must’ve spent too much time with Luke because damn, this man was a yapper now.

Opening the door, you let him in, not really sure why. Maybe Grace was right and you did need closure, but you expected to have this conversation with him through texts, and not face to face like right now.

He looked so dreamy. He’d shaved, so he looked eighteen years old all over again. His hair, hidden by the beanie, looked longer now and you desperately wanted to run your hands through it. He was standing there, cheeks and lips red, blue eyes looking directly at yours.

Why did he have to be so handsome? It’d all be much easier if he was ugly.

“You’re so quiet today, did something happen?” He asked, yanking you out of the train of thoughts about how handsome he was.

And suddenly, you were back in Harris’ living room, one year ago, watching as the man cried on your lap, apologizing over and over again, saying that he’d never lie to you and that he’d never let you down.

Your stomach was starting to hurt and you felt yourself breathing faster.

“I ran this conversation in my head a thousand times, but I never once imagined you’d just not talk about it and move on, y’know?” You mumbled, heart racing in your chest. “Was it worth it, Jack?”

His confused face made you hurt even more because, somehow, it looked genuine. “What are you talking about? Was what worth it?”

“So you’ll keep denying it?” You raise one eyebrow, feeling the sorrow being replaced by something uglier, something heavier. Something like anger.

“Denying what, Sophia?” He stepped closer, hands reaching to your body, which you dodged. If you’re going to do this, you’ll need every ounce of space in your house. “Sophia, what—”

“I know I have no right to be mad at you for this, because I know we were just fucking,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hell, I was the one who said I didn’t want a relationship first. So I understand why you didn’t reach out to me, why you’re not apologizing, why you’re playing dumb, but—”

“Sophia,” he cut you off, his voice one octave deeper. You shivered, watching as he frowned at you. “I don’t know why you’re saying all of this shit. What the hell happened?”

You looked at him, analyzing his face and, once again, seeing nothing but pure confusion in his expression. You found it hard to believe that he didn’t know about the article, didn’t know about how people were saying that no one stayed with you for a long time, didn’t know about his ex announcing to everyone on her Instagram page that they were together again.

But unfortunately, you also knew that Jack wasn’t a liar. He’d never been, and probably would never be.

“So you don’t know about the article?”

“Article?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you talking about gossip pages on Instagram? Soph, you know the only thing I do in that fucking app is like your photos, watch the weird ass reels you send me, and send pictures of ugly animals to my brothers and say it looks like them,”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you google the article that you had every word memorized by now with how much you’ve read it. Showing it to him, you saw his face go through all stages of emotions: confusion, anger and understanding.

“You didn’t know about this?”

“I don’t read the articles people write about me. I don’t give a fuck about people’s opinions,” he growled, handing your phone back to you and taking his beanie off so he could run his hands through his hair. “I don’t know who the hell sent that information about us.”

“Can’t you see that the problem here isn’t people knowing that we were fucking?” You snapped, almost crushing your phone with how hard you were gripping it. “The problem here, Jack, is you leaving that fucking party with your fucking ex, after she spent half of her night on your lap.”

“The hell is wrong with that, Sophia?” He snapped too, looking angry and annoyed at the same time. “You left with fucking Quinn and didn’t even say goodbye to me. Me leaving with Ava isn’t any fucking different.”

“‘Isn’t any fucking different?’ Fuck you, Jack. Fuck,” you touched his chest with your index finger. “You.”

“Sophia, what is going on? You’re mad at me because I left with Ava? She was fucking out of her mind, drunk as hell, and I just took her home!” He raised his arms, like that was enough of an explanation. “It’s not my fault someone took a picture of us leaving and wrote a fucking article about that.”

“I’m not mad at you, Jack,” you whispered, staring into his eyes, losing yourself all over again, just like you did six months ago. “I’m mad at myself for falling in love with you.”

You were both taken aback by your statement. You had zero intentions of telling Jack how you felt about him because that would just be too much humiliation to handle but now the shit hit the fan and he knew.

“It’s…” he stared, biting his lips and averting your gaze. “It’s not like I cheated on you, Sophia. We aren’t dating.”

Oh.

Right.

You knew something like this would happen and still. Your heart hurts all the same. It isn’t that serious, your brain was yelling at you, get a fucking grip.

“I know,” you whispered, trying to count your breathings. “I know that, Jack. You don’t need to tell me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He stepped closer. “About how you feel?”

“Was it going to change anything?” Your voice quivered with sadness and you hated yourself for it. The plan was to tell him to fuck off and leave him but now you were almost crying and losing your shit in front of him.

“Yes, Sophia, fuck,” he put his hands on your arms, squeezing you slightly. “Of course it was!”

“Jack, no,” you freed yourself from his touch, walking around your living room, with your hands on your head. “I didn’t tell you that just to watch you pity me, I was trying to make a point. Don’t start lying now just for the sake of it.”

“Lying? I’m not fucking lying, Sophia,” he sounded angry now. “If you had told me this before, I would’ve—”

“‘Would’ve’ what?” You raised your voice too, tears now streaming down your face freely. “Would’ve said you’re in love with me too? Would’ve abandoned your whore days just to be with me? Fuck off, Hughes, we both know that isn’t true.”

“Just because you like to paint me as the man whore of the Devils it doesn’t mean that that is true,” he snapped, again. “I’ve been with you for six months now, and I never, not even once, touched another woman, or even thought about doing it. Because I just wanted you, Sophia, can’t you fucking see it?”

You sat on the couch, covering your face with your hands, trying to hide the fact that those words affected you more than you would ever admit.

“I get it that your fuckhead ex-boyfriend fucked you up and I am sorry for it, baby, I really am, but I’m not like him—”

“Jack, no,” you stopped him and removed your hands from your face, not caring if you looked ugly or destroyed. “Just leave. It’s better this way.”

“Leave? Are you insane?” He raised his voice. “No, I’m not leaving. I’m telling you that I am in lo—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Hughes,” you got up, walking until you were toe to toe with him, looking up until your eyes met his. “I don’t want to hear it. Leave, please.”

“What the hell, man, you’re— you’re not even hearing me out!” He sounded desperate.

“I don’t want— I don’t need any more of your lies or pity. Sorry if you lost a good fuck, but I’m sure you’ll find someone else to get your dick wet.” It hurt you saying this but you needed to hurt him in order to make him leave, even if only God knew how much you wanted him to stay.

But the people you loved, the men you loved, never stayed.

Eventually, if you both started dating, he’d get tired of the routine and he’d find someone else. He’d start lying and cheating and apologizing just to do it all again, stepping on your heart like he did to the ice.

So you needed him to leave.

“So you think that you were just that to me?” He scoffed. “A good fuck? I took you to my parents’ house. I introduced you to them. I talked to my friends about you and I made time for something else besides Hockey. I wanted you in my life and now you’re telling me that it was all just sex to me?”

His eyes have never looked bluer. Your entire body felt cold, and you knew it wasn’t because of the weather. It was because you could feel Jack distancing himself from you, and it hurt.

“Leave, Hughes.”

He stared at you for a full minute, the room quiet. Then, he nodded once and twice, before stepping back and making his way to your door.

Opening it, he turned back and looked at you again. “I hope you know that you can’t keep your heart locked away forever, Soph.”

Wanting nothing but to be in his arms, you stared at him until he softly closed the door. You don’t know how much time you spent looking at the wooden entrance, feeling like you just watched your forever walk away.

[hysteria-things]

i NEED more nate smut 🙏 do whatever plot you want

GOOD LUCK CHARM

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub(ish)/soft!dom nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s your boyfriend’s playoff game for his hockey team. he knows damn well he’s confident enough, but just in case wants you to be his good luck charm.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, oral (male receiving), p in v, praising, semi-public

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 918

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is my official coming out as a nate girl! recently i’ve been clawing at the walls for this man, and i hope you guys support my decision😔🙏

watching your boyfriend play hockey has always made you feel some way — like what he’s doing now.

it’s the big playoff game for somerville, especially against their biggest rivals. the other team isn’t here yet, so he’s just skating around with one of his teammates to warm up.

the stands start to fill slowly but surely, then you see nate get off the ice and check his phone. you wait patiently for his reaction, being that you texted him when he was on the ice.

you see him smile and laugh, thumbs typing away on the screen.

he’s a little taken aback by the boldness, but bites his lip and starts to undo his skates and gloves, leaving his helmet for last. “hey, where are you going?” his teammate says, leaning on the wall to talk with him. “the other team should be here any minute.”

“pre-game pee,” he says, eyeing you as you walk out of the stands and by the locker rooms. his friend chuckles and nods, skating away.

he maneuvers himself through some crowds until he spots you patiently waiting by the entrance of the boys’ locker room.

when nobody is around, he pushes you in by the face to kiss you hungrily. he carries you to the bathroom portion before you flip him around. now, he’s the one leaning against the sink instead of you.

you bite and pull on his bottom lip, causing him to groan once you move down to his neck. he grins contently when you bite down to leave a mark. “you’re going to fucking be the end of me.” he mumbles, cupping his hard-on through his uniform shorts.

you giggle into his neck, untying his shorts and getting down on your knees. you kiss the tip teasingly, his hips rutting forward from the suddenness.

sucking on the tip, he whines and starts to push your head down. you bob slowly so you can feel every inch of his dick on your lips.

his mouth hangs open, eyes fluttering back as he leans against the mirror. the palm of his hand rests on top of your head, letting you do all the work as low moans leave his lips.

“holy fuck.” he sighs. “fuck. just like that, baby.”

you hum, the vibration making the lower half of his body twitch.

his eyes are still closed, taking in how your warm mouth feels. especially when you hollow your cheeks and start to suck. that alone has nate’s chest heaving, squirming from above while he whimpers your name. “y/n, oh my god.” he bites back a loud moan, arching in the process. “fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m cumming.”

you feel his release shoot down your throat, the boy shakily gasping to catch his breath.

you lift yourself off the ground, wiping your lips seductively while looking into his eyes. “i need to fuck you so bad.” he says, grabbing your hips so you’re where he was seconds ago. he sits you on the sink, pulling down your SOMERVILLE HIGHLANDERS sweatpants.

he smirks noticing the no panties, completely soaked and ready. he loves when you do shit like that. “you wanted this, didn’t you?”

blushing, you nod your head and lean in the crook of his neck. your arms snake around the back, fists balled up on your hoodie sleeves. “please fuck me, nate.” you say, looking at him with puppy eyes.

aligning himself up with your wetness, he spreads your legs wider by the knees to have better access.

you both moan as he pushes in, the stretch feeling so uncomfortable yet so good.

the thrusts are slow so you can adjust like usual, but then he gets deeper. a sound way higher pitched than the others leave you. because somebody can still hear from outside let alone walk in, you bit down on your finger to muffle your noises.

his hands roam from your waist to your thighs, grunting each time he feels your walls around him. “faster, please.” you whimper out.

“you’re killing me.” he groans, rutting his pelvis faster into yours.

you rest your head on his chest, moaning into his jersey. “right there.” you whine, toes curling in your shoes.

he lifts one of your legs so your foot rests on the edge of the sink. you grip on, knuckles turning white. “nathan!” you squeal, his rhythm getting messed up.

even though it’s his name, he’d always prefer nate, but the way you moan and scream it fucks with his head. in a good way.

breathing heavily with his lip grazing your shoulder, he looks at you guys in the mirror with hooded eyes.

the way you pulse around him, holding on as he fucks you nice and deep, hitting just the right spot. he notices your legs shake in the reflection. “looks like someone’s about to cum on my cock like a good girl.” he whispers into your ear.

that alone has you shaking harder. “uh-huh.” you answer incoherently. there’s no doubt some drool is on his shirt since your eyes are rolled back with pleasure and your mouth is agape.

he watches intently at where you’re conjoined. he nods in approval once your cum starts to slowly ooze out and onto his base. “that’s my girl.”

you love the way he praises you. it always makes your brain fuzzy.

he pulls out, finishing on your stomach. grinning widely, he kisses your temple. “thank you, baby.” he says, knowing that you’ll forever be his good luck charm.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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