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dixons-sunshine · 1 month ago

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‘Cause I’m So Into You | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone could see the hearts in your eyes whenever Joel Miller entered the room. The way you naturally gravitated towards him, the way you sought him out in a crowd, all of it. Joel, however, appeared oblivious to your crush, not having any idea about your feelings... or did he?

Genre: Smut

Era: Jackson!Joel

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of unrequited feelings, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, a lot of petnames from Joel (darling, baby, etc), no use of y/n, maybe ooc Joel.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: This took embarrassingly long to finish writing, and I’m not 100% sure how I feel about this, but I hope you all like it nonetheless! And thank you to the amazing @dixonsdarkelf for hyping this up 💜 (and for having to listen to me say “I need to finish this Joel fic” for two weeks lol)

Anyone could see that you had the biggest crush on the brooding, grumpy Joel Miller. Anyone could see the way your mood brightened whenever he entered the room, how you hung on to every word he uttered, how you jumped at any opportunity to be around the man, no matter how insignificant the task was you offered to help him with. Anyone could see the hearts in your eyes whenever Joel Miller was the topic of discussion or anywhere in your vicinity.

Everyone except the man himself. Joel appeared completely oblivious to your feelings, and it both relieved and frustrated you to no end. Relief because he didn’t know about them, yet frustrated because maybe if he did know about them, he could inevitably let you down and you could try and get over the crush you had on him.

But he didn’t, and despite your best efforts, the man infiltrated every crevice of your mind. He was the starring attraction in your daydreams, and that was not about to change anytime soon.

Bounding up the porch steps with a heavy sigh but a polite smile, you knocked on the front door and waited for a response. You tightly gripped the container in your hands, two sandwiches inside of it. You quietly braced yourself as you heard the unmistakable sound of Joel’s voice yelling “come in!” from someone inside the damaged home, opening the door and pushing inside.

“Joel?” you called out tentatively, your eyes scanning over the mess that was the inside of the run down house. Dirt and grime covered the walls, the wood of the floor had begun to rot and somehow, an astonishing amount of small rocks covered every area of the house.

The home had been neglected for years, and it clearly showed.

“In here!”

Following the direction of his call, you made your way down the narrow hallway and into what appeared to be a bedroom, if the lone mattress in the corner was anything to go by. There, smack in the middle of the room, sitting cross legged on the floor, was Joel Miller, clad in a gray button down shirt, black jeans that had seen better days, his hair an unruly mess of curls on top of his head, and sporting a pair of reading glasses. His eyes, brown like the sweetest chocolate, flickered up from the object in his hand to meet yours, sending a nod of acknowledgement towards you.

“What can I do for you, darlin’?” Joel asked easily, his gruff, southern twang sending shivers over your spine. Was it just you, or was there something insanely hot about the way his accent made his speech sound?

Clearing your throat, you lifted the container in your hands, showcasing the sandwiches you had prepared for him—all under the guise to potentially spend more time with the man. “I made lunch,” you said, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Tommy said that he couldn’t get you to leave and eat something, so I thought I’d bring you some food.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stared at you, peering up through his glasses—the glasses that made him look so much hotter, if that was even humanly possible—before allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. Clearing his throat, he placed the object—what appeared to be a broken cuckoo clock—down on the ground and pushed himself up, dusting his hands on his jeans before stepping closer to you.

“Well that’s awfully kind of you,” Joel began, reaching to take the Tupperware from your grasp. “Thank you.”

When Joel’s fingers brushed against yours, it was like electricity shot through your veins and spread through your whole body. Your heart sped up to a rate that was unnatural, your skin felt warm and your palms felt clammy. It was insane how Joel could affect you this much with something as simple as a mere brush of his fingers against yours.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to compose yourself. You would think that after months of this one-sided pining, you’d have gotten better at pretending like Joel didn’t have any affect on you. But alas, he did.

And those goddamn reading glasses did nothing to stop your mind from drifting in far more nefarious directions.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a smile, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your pants. After a few beats of silence, you spoke up again, “What are you working on?”

Meeting your eyes once more, Joel offered an easy—albeit slightly awkward—smile, something that you’d seen him do more and more as he settled into Jackson and got familiar with life inside the safety of the walls, though it never failed to make your heart skip a beat. “A clock for Maria,” he explained, opening the lid of the container and taking one of the sandwiches out. “I accidentally broke it a few days ago and she seemed real upset ‘bout it. Figured it’d be a good way to get back into her good graces, fixin’ it and whatnot.”

Laughing lightly, you nodded. “Oh, so that’s why she told me not to waste the ‘good meat’ on you.”

“Probably.”

Joel managed a small chuckle, taking a bite of the sandwich and closing his eyes in satisfaction, a deep, low groan resonating from his chest, and it made a jolt of heat flash through your body. Not now, you reminded yourself. Now is definitely not the time.

“Good?” you asked shakily, your eyes unwillingly trailing down to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Joel nodded. “Real good.” He took another bite. “I didn’t even realize how hungry I was,” he told you through the mouthful, his words truthful. He hadn’t eaten all day, so this meal was a godsend.

You were immensely surprised by his admission. You remembered the time you could barely get a word out of the man, much less a confession like that.

Subtly shaking your head to bring you back to reality, you smiled at him. “That’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, Miller,” you joked, trying your hardest to keep your eyes locked on his.

Joel chuckled a little. “Guess so.”

The silence between the two of you stretched on for a good number of seconds. In the few months that you’d known Joel, you had come to realize that he was a man of few words, keeping conversations straightforward and to the point. This was probably the longest conversation you’d had with the man since meeting him.

Yet despite that fact, your crush grew stronger with each day that passed.

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, nervously fiddling with your fingers. You tried your absolute best to appear confident, nonchalant, like his mere presence wasn’t doing things to you, making your mind wander in every unholy direction it could. The term “down bad” fit you like a glove to a hand.

“Well I should probably leave you to… all this.” You vaguely gestured around the room. “You probably didn’t just come here to fix a broken clock.”

Joel took the last sandwich and closed the lid of the container. “Wish it was that easy.” He handed it back to you, and you watched the way those glasses of his slightly slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for the food. Appreciate it.”

“No problem. See you later?”

Joel nodded. “See you.”

With a parting smile, you walked out of the room, before stopping in the hallway. You wanted to leave, but you also wanted to plant yourself down with him and keep him company. However, you knew Joel liked the silence, and he hadn’t asked you to stay, so you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. You knew what you had to do. You needed to leave, go back home, possibly go immerse yourself in tidying up the place or relaxing on the couch with one of those crappy romance books you borrowed from Maria.

So why couldn’t you bring yourself to leave?

Your feet started moving on their own accord. You made your way back into the room where Joel was, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw he hadn’t moved from the spot you left him in. The sandwich you had made him was gone, probably eaten in your temporary absence, his glasses perched atop the small, wobbly table behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you…

Knowingly? Was he looking at you knowingly?

Your breath got caught in your throat, your heart speeding up at the prolonged eye contact. Joel stayed still, silent, waiting for you to make the first move. His brown, coffee-like eyes flickered over your face, and you suddenly felt naked under his gaze, despite being fully clothed. It was like he could see into your soul, read your thoughts like they were words in a book, and it sent shivers over your spine.

And then, unable to stop yourself, the words came out like word vomit.

“I like you,” you blurted out quickly, your mouth working faster than your brain. Stop, you told yourself. Run away and forget this ever happened. Say that you were just joking and move on with your life.

Joel quirked an eyebrow at you, his face stoic and neutral, not showing anything about what he might be feeling. “What?”

Fuck, now look what you did, you chided yourself. However, despite your fight or flight kicking in, with the latter feeling extremely tempting, you didn’t go anywhere. You sighed and straightened your posture, deciding that it was now or never. Maybe by doing this, he could finally let you down and you could move on with your life. Maybe by letting you down, you would be able to look back on this moment years from now and laugh at how ridiculous this little—well, huge—crush was. Just maybe.

“I like you,” you reiterated, screwing your eyes shut. “I like you a lot, more than I’m probably supposed to like you. I tried not to, but I can’t help it. You’re just… you, and this stupid crush just keeps getting bigger. So please, let me down so that I can get over it and move on with my life.”

The silence that followed your confession was almost deafening. One could hear a pin drop, that’s how quiet it was. You kept your eyes closed, unable to even look at Joel. You weren’t sure what you would see on his face. Would it be anger? Amusement? Indifference? Or worse... disgust?

The sound of the floorboards creaking filled the air, and then you felt a presence in front of you, accompanied by the press of something warm against your cheek. You gasped and opened your eyes, standing nearly toe to toe with Joel, his eyes locked on yours. If your heart was beating fast before, it was nothing compared to the way it galloped like a horse now.

“Oh, darlin’,” he spoke up, his words slow, careful, almost like he was testing the waters, “you think I didn’t know?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

Your breathing grew quicker, Joel’s gaze intense as he peered at you, that half smirk you had grown accustomed to present on his handsome features. His hand—still cupping your face—was rough, calloused, marked with years of hard work and labour, both before and after the world went up in flames, both metaphorically and literally speaking.

“You really think I’m that blind?” Joel spoke up, snapping you from your thoughts. “Sweetheart, I don’t need glasses to see how you’re feelin’.” He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, the action sending goosebumps over your flesh, and used his other hand to remove the now infamous reading glasses. “You think you’re so good at hidin’ it, but you ain’t. Not really.”

You were left speechless, both from the close proximity to Joel—you had never been this close to him before—and the fact that he knew. He knew all along? No, that wasn’t possible. Wouldn’t he have said something?

“I—what? You—I—”

Joel’s smirk grew the tiniest bit. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay, baby. Calm down.”

Calm down? With him standing close enough that you could feel his body heat? With his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin so softly, so tenderly, like you were fine porcelain he was scared he would break? With his lips so close, all you had to do was lean in and capture them with yours and finally make that dream a reality?

Yeah, you definitely would not be calming down anytime soon.

“You knew?” you finally managed to choke out, your eyes wide.

Joel nodded, raising his other hand so that he could cup both of your cheeks in his hands. “Subtlety ain’t your strong suit.” He tilted his head slightly, his eye contact never wavering. “You want me to let you down? Say that I don’t think ‘bout you?”

“I—” you began, before getting cut off.

“You want me to lie to you? ‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’m afraid that I can’t make that happen.”

You were speechless. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. You must be dreaming, because there was no way Joel Miller was saying all these things to you.

Joel wet his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, his eyes darting down to your lips. “May I?”

Your heart was pounding out of your ribcage at this point. There was no way this was happening. You were convinced you were dreaming. Was Joel Miller actually asking if he could kiss you?

Slowly nodding, you said in a quiet whisper, “Yes.”

With that, Joel ducked his head and slanted his mouth across yours, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. There was nothing gentle about this kiss; it was messy, urgent, almost yearning, like two lovers reuniting after years apart. You wrapped your arms around his neck and eagerly matched his movements, savouring the feeling that you had wanted, had craved, for so long. If this was the only time you would be able to experience this, you wanted to have it engraved into your mind for eternity.

Joel’s hands moved from your face, trailing down your shoulders, the curve of your waist, down to your hips and curling around your body to gently squeeze your ass. You gasped, and Joel didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the taste of him—the aftertaste of the meat that had been in his sandwich, mixed with the faintest hint of whiskey and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He tasted delicious.

Joel pulled back slightly to look at you, your mouths connected by a single string of saliva. “Jump,” he said breathlessly, tapping the side of your leg.

Eagerly complying with his command, you jumped, easily being caught and held in Joel’s strong embrace. Without wasting a second, his lips were back on yours, kissing you deeply, like it was the last thing he’d ever do and he wanted to make it count. He carefully walked over to the mattress in the corner of the room, his hold on you not faltering, and without breaking the kiss, he slowly crouched down and lowered you onto the mattress. How he did that without falling over, you did not know, nor did you particularly care in that moment.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, your hands trailed down to the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning the top one. Joel pulled away from the kiss, his hands working at the buttons and helping you remove his shirt, albeit a bit clumsily. When the grey fabric parted and slipped from his shoulders, it made way for the most mouthwatering sight you had ever seen. Joel looked like he was sculpted by Greek gods. Salt and pepper hairs littered the skin above his defined pecs, his stomach soft with age but simultaneously still toned, and good lord, the trail of hair that disappeared down his jeans made your imagination run wild.

“Your turn.” Joel grabbed the hem of your T-shirt, tugging it up and over your head, being met with absolute zero resistance from you. You wanted this. You had dreamed of this. You’d be damned if you backed out now.

As soon as your shirt was off, Joel skillfully reached around to unclasp your bra, letting the garment fall from your shoulders and carelessly tossing it somewhere to the side. Joel sat back and let his eyes roam all over your body, his chest heaving and his eyes darkening, black covering the beautiful brown hues you’d come to love. His tongue swept over his bottom lip, almost like he wanted to devour you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, before leaning back down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, down your chest and going lower.

Your breath hitched in anticipation when he kissed the skin right above the waistband of your jeans. However, you didn’t stop him. You wanted him to do this. And you showed him just that by kicking off your shoes, allowing him easier access to pull your pants down.

With practiced ease, Joel swiftly unbuttoned your jeans, tugging both your jeans and underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side with your shirt and bra, leaving you completely naked and exposed to his gaze. He groaned at the sight before diving in face first, licking a long, delicious stripe from your core up to your clit.

The moan that escaped your chest was damn near pornographic. Throwing your head back against the flimsy mattress, you arched your back, pushing up against his face. Joel groaned, sending vibrations through your body, which only drew another moan from you.

After kissing the skin on your thigh a few times, nibbling at the tender flesh right next to where you craved him the most, Joel dove right back in, devouring you like a man offered a banquet after weeks of starvation. His tongue moved in and out of your core confidently, showcasing skills you never would have known he had. He groaned at the taste of you, which only added to the blinding hot pleasure that you felt.

Whining and bucking your hips up against his face, your fingers disappeared into his curly locks of hair, lightly tugging on the roots in the hopes of grounding yourself back to reality. Not even your wildest, wettest dream could have prepared you for how absolutely amazing Joel was making you feel. He definitely knew what he was doing, and he was doing it extremely well.

“Joel,” you moaned softly, gasps and breathy whines slipping past your lips. “Oh my god, Joel! Jesus… Christ!”

The noises you made were like music to Joel’s ears. They only spurred him on, and without even really thinking about it, his hand trailed up your thigh, brushing against your clit—which made you jolt—and he slipped his middle finger into your hole, replacing his tongue. Instead, he used his mouth to suck on your clit, pumping his finger in and out at a steady pace.

You were full-on whining at this point, quiet. Breathy ‘fucks’ and ‘Joels’ filled the air, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Joel pumping his fingers into you, his middle finger now joined by his pointer- and ring finger. The pleasure was toe curling, star seeing, absolutely fucking amazing. You could feel the coil in your stomach winding tighter with record speed. You were teetering right on the edge of pure ecstasy.

Joel could tell you were close. He upped his game, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion, flicking his tongue against your clit just right. He wanted you to finish all over his face. He needed it, in fact.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

With one last pump of his thick digits and one final suck on your clit, the knot in your stomach snapped. You came undone with a shout of his name, pulling at his hair and bucking your hips up against his face. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated bliss washed over you, and you were sure that if Joel wasn’t holding onto your thighs, you would descend into heaven.

Slowly coming down from your high, you lifted your head with great effort, peering down at Joel, and you gasped at the sight. Joel had lifted himself onto his knees, his face coated with your juices, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal. His pupils were blown with lust, and when you looked down, you finally noticed how rock hard he was.

“Joel…” you trailed off in a way that almost resembled begging, your voice shaky and breathless.

Joel knew what you meant. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he quickly made work of removing his jeans, somehow managing to kick his shoes off while he was at it. When his jeans were taken off, followed by his boxers, his cock sprung free, red at the tip and leaking with precum, and your mouth watered at the sight of it. You wanted to scramble up onto your knees and take him down your throat, show him the pleasure he showed you. However, as if reading your mind, Joel shook his head and moved to hover over you, his body warm and solid against yours.

“Next time, baby,” he promised you, not even needing to give any context as to what he was talking about, because you knew exactly what he meant.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “I’m keeping you to that.”

A deep, throaty half-chuckle resonated from Joel’s chest. Lowering his head, he slanted his mouth across yours, all teeth and tongue. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you moaned into his mouth as Joel gripped his cock and slid it through your folds a few times, the tip catching on your oversensitive bundle of nerves each time, making you moan even louder.

After repeating that action a couple of times, Joel lifted his head to peer down at you, his eyes—brown like the earth—searching yours for any indication that you didn’t want this. That he was crossing a line you didn’t want crossed. However, he was met with nothing but pure need, your legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him closer, silently pleading with him to make the next move.

And he did. Lining himself up with your entrance—and quickly giving himself a few light squeezes—he slowly pushed his cock in, groaning at the way your warm heat welcomed him, the way your walls hugged him just right, beckoning him closer and closer until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You felt like heaven.

Oh, but when he slowly pulled back and thrusted back in, the noises you made were anything but holy.

“Fuckin’... Christ,” Joel cursed through gritted teeth, keeping his pace slow and steady at first. A slow pull out, a gentle thrust back in. Another slow pull out, another gentle thrust back in. And repeat.

“Joel,” you whined, your eyelids fluttering when his tip nudged that one spot deep inside of you. “Joel, please.”

“Please what, darlin’?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He snapped his hips forward, making you gasp loudly. “Joel!” you nearly yelled, your hands coming up to grip at his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh.

“That what you want, baby?” he cooed almost condescendingly, lowering his head to nibble at the skin on your jaw. When you eagerly nodded, he merely chuckled. “Gotta use your words.”

“Please, Joel,” you began, sounding almost desperate as he continued with his slow, torturous pace. “Please. Need—ah!—need you to go faster.”

Lifting his head to look at you, he smirked. “Good girl.”

With that, he snapped his hips against yours, making your body jolt. And he didn’t stop. He set a brutal, unforgiving but delicious pace, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Your boobs moved in time with his movements, and Joel couldn’t help but admire them, moving one of his hands down to grasp a handful of your right breast, thumbing your perked, sensitive nipple.

The noises you were making were downright sinful. Your grip on Joel’s broad, muscular shoulders tightened, desperately trying to keep yourself tethered to reality. You were already sensitive from your first orgasm, and you could feel your second one approaching faster than the first one did. And Joel could tell as well. It was like he knew your body better than you did.

“You gonna come f’me again, baby?” he asked breathlessly, his thrusts not faltering. He let go of your boob and instead snuck his hand between your legs, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing small, tight circles against it. He let out a noise that resembled something close to a gasp and close to a groan when he felt your walls squeeze him tightly, drawing his cock even deeper. “Yeah, you are.” Thrust. “Can feel how close you are.” Thrust. “Squeezin’ me so tight, eager for it.” Thrust. “Then let go for me, baby.” Another thrust. “Come all over my cock. Wanna feel it.”

With one last snap of his hips against yours, you came undone, your shouts of pleasure echoing off the walls. Your orgasm washed over you like a river, making your legs tremble and your vision blur from pure bliss, the kind you haven’t felt in a while. It all felt so good.

Joel followed closely behind you. With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed spilling deep inside of you. All types of profanities spewed past his lips as he came undone, his arm trembling and struggling to keep his weight up. He quickly brought his other arm back up to support his weight, not wanting to crush you, but he let his head drop down to hide in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of your deep, heavy breaths. You were slowly coming down from that euphoric high, your mind still foggy and trying to distinguish between fiction and reality. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve felt this good. Hell, you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this good. No amount of dreaming could ever compare to the real thing.

Coming back down from whatever ether his mind had disappeared to, Joel raised his head, his eyes sweeping over your face. He was still heaving like he had just ran a marathon, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you in a way you couldn’t quite decipher.

Deciding to break the silence, you spoke up. “That was… wow.”

Joel allowed a small, barely noticeable smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, and you counted that as a win. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

And then it was silent again. You knew there was a lot to talk about. You knew that this made things between you and Joel difficult, made it different. But for now, you chose to bask in the afterglow of what happened, chose to enjoy it.

The difficult stuff could come later. For now, you would enjoy the moment.

Everything taglist: @francisofthespook @angelsanarchy @negansbestie (Comment/DM me to be added/removed!)

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months ago

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So… Neglect play. Heavy on the hear me out, guys pls (WAIT WHY IS THIS GIVING PATHETIC YANDERE HUH)

Thinking about a huge brat who loves to run his mouth and fights you on everything you do. No matter how often you’d punish him, he just doesn’t stop. It’s part of his charm, that he’s so stubborn, which led to you getting a little creative with ways to punish him.

“Don’t you think you need some discipline?” You asked, glaring down at him. It took almost half an hour just to get him on his knees, your patience was running thin. “No, I don’t.” He answered flatly, sitting there cross legged with a smug smirk. Can one even call this kneeling? He seems to be very comfortable.

Without noticing, you raised your voice a little, “that’s it, bend over, you definitely deserve punishment.” You patted your lap, feeling your brows twitch when he didn’t move a single inch. “What if I refuse?” The man replied, not even looking up at you. That’s it, you couldn’t deal with his bullshit today.

At first you weren’t even going to be this mean to him, but he really outdid himself this time with getting on your nerves. Which is why you simply sighed, picked up the nearest entertainment object within your reach, and began focusing on it. Ignoring him completely. No eye contact, no touching, and definitely no speaking. The shook that flashed his expression must have been priceless, what a shame that you couldn’t take a look at him.

For the next few minutes, he just waited, sneaking not-so-secretive peeks at you, wondering what was so interesting that you refused to acknowledge his presence. Then, the following minutes were spend sulking like an abandoned puppy. Lips pressed together into a pout, before he squeezed out through gritted teeth, “as if that thing’s more entertaining than me, what a joke.” Despite the comment, you didn’t even flinch, seemingly determined to see this to the end.

Another moment of awkward silence emerged, and he sighed, “this is a waste of time, do something already.” If you wait a little more from now on, that’s when he gets all desperate, all docile, if you may. Hands a breath too shy to truly touch you, lingering around your shin as he cursed under this breath. This was beneath him, to beg for scraps of your attention, but he was starting to feel all flustered!

Suddenly he shifted into a more fitting position, kneeling properly as he averted his gaze. “There, are you satisfied now? Tsk, such a tyrant.” Yet still no reaction, not even the slightest hint of interest. It took almost five minutes until he gave in, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes due to the humiliation. Cheeks flushing as he tried to shallow his shame, but to no avail. In the end, he couldn’t take this anymore and broke down piece by piece.

Starting by wrapping his arms around your leg, mumbling softly, “I’m sorry… okay? I’ll—” his Adam’s apple bobbed, showing his hesitation before he continued, “I’ll be good from now on… so look at me.” No response, nothing. “You are insufferable, urgh, why do I even bother?!” Look at that, another burst of anger, he must feel really pathetic right now, on the verge of begging for something that was never a problem until now.

Then, he began seeking your attention in earnest. Placing his head in your lap as he stared up at you with the most pitiful gaze ever, eyes glassy as they swelled with tears, cheeks an embarrassed red that deepened every time he realised how he was debasing himself for your amusement. All because you were neglecting him a little? He must have been more desperate than he realised. Now the tears he’s been holding back were dripping down his face in earnest, painting him in an even more pitiful light.

“Please.. I’m sorry, just- look at me. Don’t you- don’t you dare to ignore me when I’m already like this.” A silent sob as he tried to press himself closer to you, “I-I’ll be good.. really, I promise, don’t look away again, please…”

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starmocha · 4 months ago

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I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... 😔

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

#x — 💌#anonymous #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #caleb x reader #lads scenarios #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #i'm testing out a new formatting for whenever i do these types of post idk if i like it or not ;~;

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mwphisto · 26 days ago

Text

Zayne: Misbehaved

~For @cayla21 who sent me the request! I hope you like it!

~ Bratty reader x Brat Tamer Zayne / not beta read, ignore small errors I'm dyslexic

Warning, this post contains: Smut, female masturbation, bratty behavior, Zayne is on a zoom call so like... spanking, no foreplay since MC took care of that herself lmfao, dirty talk, no degrading but he does scold her. WC: 2.8k

You had been feeling a tad bit neglected by your boyfriend recently.

You couldn't blame him for being busy, his job was demanding and strenuous so of course it took a lot of his time. You did your best most days to not complain, not wanting to add to his growing stress by whining about how much you miss him.

Being a brat was one thing, being a bother was another. And you'd much prefer staying far away from the bother side of things if you could help it. Zayne didn't deserve that after all.

Today was supposed to be your day, a rare day off with all of the recent wanderer attacks. Zayne happened to have the day to himself as well, naturally you planned on spending it together...

Until an urgent work call came in and now Zayne had been in your shared bedroom glued to his laptop for forty five minutes and counting. Bother him? No, of course not. You wouldn't dare distract him from the meeting at hand... right?

Wrong. You were annoyed beyond belief that the hospital couldn't give him a damn break even on his day off. While you may not have the right to go to the board and bitch on your boyfriend's behalf. You could certainly make use of your lost time.

You were quiet as you peeked into the bedroom, Zayne's desk was facing the door, the wall next to the closet as his background. You two had decided that was likely best since it looked put together, definitely not like a well loved bedroom.

He was talking, glasses hanging a little lower on his nose as hazel eyes scanned over papers in his hands. "The patient's treatment plan states..." blah blah blah, you tuned it out immediately. It wasn't like you'd understand what he was talking about if you listened.

Shouldering your way in, Zayne's eyes only flickered up for a second to acknowledge you before returning to his papers. Perfect.

"I understand, Dr. Alastor. But I wrote this treatment plan as such because..." there was a slight edge to Zayne's tone, one that sent a shrill of excitement down your spine as you padded over to his side of the bed. The voice filling his computer speakers seemed equally as tense, they clearly weren't seeing eye to eye.

With your back to Zayne, you reached for the hem of the shirt you had on. Yanking the material up and over your head in one go, the cool air of the room making your nipples harden almost immediately. His evol must be going a little haywire due to his frustrations.

You ached to glance over your shoulder, curious to know if your movements had caught his attention or if he was so focused on getting his way that he had tunnel vision. You held strong, reaching down to pull the waistband of your underwear from your hips. The garment sliding down your legs and falling to the floor.

You were completely bare, only daring to look at Zayne so you could crawl onto the bed and get yourself settled. When you did look, you jumped slightly when you realized his eyes were focused on you.

There was a warning look in his eyes, one that screamed don't you dare. But you were still peeved, you were going to do what you wanted while his ass was glued to that seat and that call. You only smiled at him, something soft and innocent as you crawled onto the bed and plopped yourself among the sheets and pillows.

Everything contradicted what you were doing, skin bare and taunting him as you let your thighs fall open in a butterfly position. You were already visibly wet, how long had you been planning this?

"Dr. Zayne? Your camera froze." heat flared in your lover's ears, head turning back to the camera so fast you couldn't stifle the small giggle that escaped your lips. He was going to eat you alive for this, punish you so severely you'd struggle to walk for a few days. You could feel it in your bones, Zayne wasn't going to show any mercy.

"My apologies, the connection was a bit spotty for a moment..." Still, he snuck a glance as your fingers began to massage your breasts. You had to be mindful of the fact that he was not only on camera but his microphone was on. If you made too much noise, they'd hear. As bratty as you could be, you knew not to cross that line.

The voice - a different male doctor - began ranting. From what you could gather, he was siding with Zayne. Didn't matter much to you as your fingers twisted and pinched at your perked nipple, lips parting as a slight gasp slipped out. In an instant, you heard Zayne's fingers click something on his keyboard.

"You've got two choices." Your hands stop, eyes locking with his. His hands are folded, effectively hiding his mouth from the webcam's view. "Either you stop what you're doing and wait for me to be done with this nonsense." Hazel eyes narrow at the computer screen briefly before returning to you. "Or you get dressed and we start this day over." You felt a giggle rising in your chest.

"Yeah, no. Don't wanna do either." Your hand snaked down the front of your body, gliding over your stomach before stopping just above your glistening cunt. "I'm having some me time while you work. Just pretend I'm not even here, if that helps you focus better."

You shoot him a wink, watching his jaw clench and eyes flare in disbelief as two fingers slip between your puffy lips. There's a twitch in your expression as your fingers graze your clit, slowly rubbing in a clockwise motion as your walls flutter from the sensation. "Dr. Zayne, what are your thoughts?" You don't falter in your movements as Zayne visible stiffens, a flare of annoyance in his eyes as he returns.

"You know my stance on the matter, I'm not budging."

The bickering begins again, but all you can do is move your fingers faster. You've effectively worked your lover up, the evidence straining against his sleep pants as your fingers work your clit.

Your other hand continued to tweak and toy with your nipple, toes curling as you clenched around nothing. The pleasure coursing through your pussy was enough to have small, barely audible whimpers leave your mouth. Completely incontrollable, coming out with each breath as slick covered your fingers.

You dared to sink them lower, leaving your clit alone as you pushed two slick fingers past your fluttering entrance. The whine was louder, Zayne's eyes sliding over to catch a glimpse of the sinful display.

"Fuck, Zayne. Need you so bad... hurry up!" You're grinning as you whisper, back arching off the mattress as you curl your fingers up and into that sweet spot. You grab your breast for support, squeezing the pliant flesh between your fingers and swallow a moan.

Zayne can't think straight, not when you're so boldly going against his wishes and pleasuring yourself feet away from him. He can't move, can't offer anything more to the heated debate unfolding on his screen. All he can think about is the sinful squelching of your fingers as you pump them in and out of your cunt.

He's going to ruin you, completely and utterly ruin you the second can end this call. A quick click of his keyboard, double checking he was muted, and then he spoke. "If you cum-"

"Course m'gonna cum, you can't stop m-me!" close, you were so close. The thrill of disobedience fueling your pleasure.

Zayne knew he had no control over the situation, his frustration bubbling to the surface as he clicked his microphone back on. "With all due respect, this is my day off. If you are going to butt heads for hours on end, save it for when I am back in work tomorrow morning."

You assumed the conference call was stunned, that sort of tone was one Zayne rarely let leave the house... technically he still kept it on a short leash considering you were still in the house. You weren't sure of what their responses were, your orgasm crashing into you and causing your fingers to stutter in their repetitive movements.

Your chest heaved from the release, eyes blinking open in time to see Zayne slamming his laptop shut. "You." A single word, that's all it took. A chill ran down your spine, legs snapping shut as you curled in on yourself. There was nowhere to run, your heart never calming down post-release because of the anticipation.

"You are such a defiant brat." Zayne's face was the picture of calm, collected, but there was that edge again, one that told you that he was on the verge of losing his mind. "I-I don't..." but you were fixed in place with a stare. There was no room to push the limits now.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" You had half the mind left to be defiant, yet your body was moving on autopilot. Your lips stayed shut as you shook your head, eyes going glossy as you stared up at your lover. "If I recall, I told you that you had two options and you did neither." His fingers were pulling at the hem of his shirt.

Inch by inch, toned skin was revealed to your hungry gaze. You'd never get tired of seeing Zayne shed his layers. "Then you further disobeyed me by coming on your fingers." the shirt fell with a thump, landing somewhere on the floor with your discarded clothing.

One knee went up on the mattress, urging you to slink back and away. Part of you wondered how stupid it would be to try and run, with the little dignity you had left you weren't sure making a run for it while bare naked was the smartest move. Even if you wanted to, your legs weren't quite working fully. Hadn't this been your goal?

"All while I was on a call. It's shameful, did you want my colleagues to hear you playing with your pussy like the brat you are? Did it turn you on to know that they're unaware of you masturbating on my bed? That I couldn't get up from the camera to put you in your place?" A hand wraps around your ankle and tugs you towards him.

"Answer me, you can speak."

"N-no it didn't, what turned me on was that you couldn't get up to fuck me stupid even if you wanted to-hey!" You were being flipped over, face connecting with the pillows as Zayne crawled onto the bed completely. "Don't you dare go running your mouth again." A hard slap echoed off your ass cheek, your lips sealing shut before any smart remarks could slip out against your will... habit maybe.

"Disobeying me." Another slap. "Touching yourself." Another slap. "Mouthing off to me." A fourth slap. Your ass cheek stung, heat radiating where Zayne had spanked you. "And this is for enjoying it." You squealed as he landed a slap on your sopping cunt, stinging pleasure zipping up your spine. "Naughty girl."

You couldn't think straight, air freezing in your lungs as you felt him nudging against your entrance. You craned your head back, fingers tightening in the sheets as your breasts pressed into the blankets. Zayne's sleep pants were around his thighs, just low enough to let his cock free. "Don't look." Another smack to your sore ass.

Your head returned to the pillow, not daring to mumble an apology. "Good girls get to watch, and you most certainly have not been good." Your throat tightened as he pressed, the pressure against your dripping hole enough to make your body tense. No foreplay, no preparation, you were wet enough as it is. Taking him without anything else was part of the punishment.

"You played with yourself more than enough, look at how messy this pretty pussy is." Zayne swallowed a groan as he stopped teasing your entrance, running the dull head of his cock between your warm, slick folds. "You've had me more than enough times, you'll live."

He was back at your entrance before you could even whine, pushing past the tight ring and sighing as you immediately suctioned around him. Arguably, the worst was done, the stretch brief before your body accommodated to being filled. Except, Zayne didn't push himself in further. Rather, he withdrew entirely.

"Z-zayne!" You squealed as he repeated the motion, pushing just the head in before pulling back out. Not stopping until he felt zero resistance. "You can handle it, you've done it before." His hands were gripping your waist with bruising force, sliding inch after inch until his hips were flush with your bruised ass.

"You're finally being good, if you behave maybe I'll give you a reward."

You couldn't breathe, stuffed so full you could only let your mouth hang open as you braced yourself for him to start moving. Zayne started moving, pulling back half way to roll his hips forward in slow deep motions. You could feel every inch, every vein, the curve of his head, each movement hitting that sweet spot.

It didn't take long for his pace to pick up, wet squelches filling the room as skin met skin with each thrust. "So defiant, what am I going to do with you." Zayne's voice was strained, hands sliding from your hips up to your breasts. He cupped them, bending over you to press his bare chest to your back. "You never learn."

A whisper against your ear, just as he rolled your perked nipple between his fingers. "M-maybe I just like disobeying." You couldn't help it, and it seemed Zayne was going to let it slide for once.

"A glutton for punishment, not shocking." You could only mewl, completely engulfed by Zayne's warmth and weight. One hand left your breasts, sliding down your stomach to slip between your soaked folds. "Wouldn't have it any other way." He pinched, earning a squeal before he began rubbing your overly sensitive clit.

Your second orgasm was building quick. With his hips pounding into you and his fingers toying with your cunt, you couldn't stop the string of curses that fled your lips. "Z-zayne 'm gonna cum..."

"Then cum, you have my permission." Your entire body trembled, if he wasn't going to edge you it could only mean... "fuck!"

Your walls spasmed around his length, forcing his hips to stutter in their movements as your cum dripped down your thighs "Someone is definitely listening now." You could only cling to the sheets, panting as Zayne's fingers and hips began their brutal pace once more.

"We're not stopping until I'm satisfied."

"S'too sensitive! Z-zayne!" But he didn't stop, didn't even hesitate. The wet sounds only amplified as he pounded you deeper into the mattress. "Y-you can take it, you've done it before and you'll do it now." Tears blur your vision, eyes screwing shut as painful overstimulation turns into blinding pleasure.

He was twitching, already close to coming. "Should I cum in this pretty pussy? Fill her up nice and full?" You babbled out some sort of yes, tears wetting the pillow below you as you cried out his name. "I'll fill you up so good you'll be dripping me for days." The kind of language Zayne reserved for you and you alone. What an honor.

"Please, Z-zayne! N-need it so b-ad." You were coming again, a high pitched squeal leaving you as you thrashed against the sheets. The warm gush of your release covering his thighs and the sheets below. "So filthy, making a mess of me and our bed." he was twitching, face flushed, his orgasm was right in his grasp.

A hard smack landed on your other ass cheek, a loud sob wracking your frame as Zayne ground his hips into you. "How badly do you want my cum? Do you think you deserve it?" God you couldn't even see straight, how did he expect you to answer him? You mumbled something, a slur of speech accompanied by the clenching of your walls. It was the best you could do, but Zayne understood.

"Could never deny you, even though you can be a royal brat."

Zayne's hand on your breast and grip around your waist was the only thing keeping you somewhat grounded. His rhythm turned sloppy, finally coming as he ground his hips flush against you. The warmth was all consuming, spreading through your body until you could barely keep your eyes open. "l-love you."

"I love you too, but I hope you know I'm not done with you yet." Zayne's tone was smug, cock still hard and twitching in your cunt. "I've got all day and night to make you see the error of your ways." You were positive he'd never get the message across. If it meant getting fucked like this? You'd defy him again and again.

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fairuzfan · 1 year ago

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I do want to say re:food appropriation, for Palestinians it is a very very very sensitive issue. I don't know a single Palestinian who doesn't react vehemently to calling food "Israeli." One, because you have to recognize that this is within a larger pattern of completely erasing Palestinian identity, and two, because food is an essential core part of culture, where historical, familial instruction should be acknowledged.

I find it incredibly.... insulting to say "well food can be exchanged between cultures and people, so what's the big idea?" and neglect the fact that even within the Levant, there is a diverse array of cooking styles. To call certain dishes "Israeli" especially within the context of how the state of Israel was established, plays into the erasure of Palestinians.

It's often necessary to attribute the food we eat to specific cultures. For example, I, a Palestinian, would never claim ownership over Macarona Bil-Bashamil, or Yalenji, because they're "Arab." That's just not how food culture works. Different cultures, different climates, different environments all contribute to the food we eat and the clothes we wear. Food in itself is political because of how heavily it is tied to a location in which things are grown and raised.

Food is what builds community. Women, young and old, pass this knowledge throughout generations. And ESPECIALLY between peasant families that grow and raise the very flora and fauna we rely on in our dishes. This is a professional sort of knowledge that we celebrate and consider incredibly important. To strip our very food of our identity is not only insulting, but negates the centuries worth of food culture we've established in favor of homogenization. So yes, it IS possible to appropriate food, especially when you do not acknowledge the centuries worth of knowledge shared.

#its something i've been thinking about alot #palestine

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sleepn0tfound · 6 months ago

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That's MY Daughter

DC x Fem!Neglected!Batsis! Reader x Marvel [Just some midnight thoughts]

Bruce and Tim realised something odd about Stark Industries. Ever since a few months ago the technology being produced there had improved by an unbelievable amount. It was futuristic, nothing that this world has seen before. And the weirdest part of it is the fact that Tony Stark had offered to partner up with Wayne Enterprises. THE Tony Stark, Iron Man, the most egotisical man they knew had willingly offered to partner up with them? After years of being petty with Bruce and the JL?

Tim had been made to prepare to become the new CEO soon, thus he recently started taking up more work at Wayne Enterprises when the agreement was made. Though instead of Tony being the one to talk about ideas it was an unknown woman communicating with him about the ideas, the product, the marketing, etc. And the merge of the two companies was an absolute success, the marketing especially drawing in young adults. (courtesy of Tim and the mysterious women who seems to be around the same age as him)

Who was the mysterious women though? Well both Bruce and Tim could only come to one solution. The least known character to Bruce, to Batman, which says a lot considering the fact that he had made a contingency plan for every Avenger, every hero, including his own teammates, including himself, yet this one character was completely unknown, zero plans if she were to go rogue. And that drove Bruce crazy. Her file was blank. Every vital information was marked with the word 'unknown'. It had been making Bruce paranoid for years since she had appeared next to the Avengers.

The reassurance from the Avengers never helped. It was as if something was gnawing at him. After all how could he trust them anyways? (careful Bruce your trust issues are showing)

One of the only things they knew about her is that she is the main hacker/coder for the Avengers, hence the reason why the Avengers digital security was admittedly better than the Justice League's and how much faster they got, what should be, classified information. (no matter how much Bruce wants to deny it)

And her codename, Special Agent Reaper. No she wasn't originally an Avenger, she was crowned the most skilled assassin of this era, working under S.H.I.E.L.D and one of the sole reasons why all of the HYDRA agents that have sneaked into S.H.I.E.L.D have been successfully taken out, her name would pass by in the wind every so often, they might be rumours or the truth but no one truly knows. Hell even Ra's Al Ghul, The Demon’s Head, had acknowledged her once. Even Talia had admitted that Damian's fighting technique was made to mirror The Reaper's, the only difference is he used katanas while the Reaper, fittingly, uses a scythe.

But one thing was for sure. If you saw the shadow of a hooded figure you better run, though at that point it might be too late.

As the saying goes, "Beware of the Grim Reaper. Wherever it goes death follows closely behind.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Ah! Brucie! Here you are!” Tony said, wine in hand as he approached Bruce at the gala. Well that was a first. He usually never played into the Brucie persona. Well nonetheless the show must go on.

“Tony!” Bruce threw himself at the other billionaire, acting as if he was drunk, ignoring the way Tony’s expression turned into a grimace for a split second.

As usual, they were both around other pretentious socialites who never seemed to run out of questions.

“Ah! Tony, I heard Stark Industries have been bringing in more money than ever.”

“Oh yes! It’s all because of this prodigy i had found. She actually was the reason why Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises had a collab. I might even give the company to her when I retire!" He let out a laugh that seems to emanate the word 'rich', a small smirk stayed on his lips as he heard the guests at the gala begin to whisper.

"Oh? Is that so? Then I would love to meet the person I have been working with this entire time." Tim Drake-Wayne said as he finally came out of the corner where he would usually stay in to observe rather than interact.

"Be my guest." A subtle challenge, as if Tony was daring him to go through with it as they locked eyes. A smirk on one face while a well practiced smile on the other.

Bruce let out a light hearted laugh as he tightened his grip around Tony, a subtle warning to stay away from his son, "Well then I wouldn't mind arranging a meeting! I'm sure you wouldn't mind the others joining." His tone had a slight change that even the most observant wouldn't realise.

Bruce could barely keep up the 'Brucie' act with Tony bragging about how Stark Enterprises profits have shot up with him finding a 'prodigy' and someone who will take over the company once he retires.

"Not at all. The more the merrier. I assume you wouldn't mind me inviting more people as well." Tony sipped his wine, he wasn't one to back out from a challenge, especially when he is so confident.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

This certainly wasn't how the Justice League and the Avengers expected their next meeting to happen. A petty fight between the two men that singlehandedly funds their respective teams causing all of them to be in one room together.

"Well then, Stark. Where is this prodigy that you speak so highly of?" Bruce said as he sported his famous batglare.

"I assure you she is on her way. She should just be right about done with her mission." Tony replied with the same tone, shooting a glare as well.

Meanwhile the two teams were watching this as if it was the most entertaining show they have seen.

"Hey I'm here." Y/n entered the hall, still wearing her assassin suit, though her signature black hood was down, revealing her face.

Silence seemed to engulf the room.

"Kid... Your hood."

"...Fuck."

hi! i might have disappeared for a month :D To those who are waiting for more parts of DC x Super/Kent!Reader it will come... eventually. I'm having the biggest writer's block for that specific AU so uhm yeah! I wasn't really planning on making that AU a series since it was mostly just me being bored and writing for the lols but since it received so much attention [thank you guys so much!] I have to do it now. i was doing some worldbuilding and already know how I want the reader to be and allat but I cant really think of how to shape the story ukukuk. so yeah stay tuned for that! also this thing was also just a blurb. Might make somewhat of continuation parts if I feel like it. [Also the neglected!batsis! fanfics I've been reading is getting to me. i have a feral urge to create a diff AU series for that] Also would you guys be interested in me creating a twitter/insta account or like a tele channel to post random things

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rizzanon · 6 months ago

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Imagine being the neglected daughter of Bruce Wayne. No matter how hard you tried, you were always a shadow in a house full of larger-than-life personalities. You trained until your muscles ached, went on as many patrols as you could, and pushed yourself far beyond your limits—anything to earn even a sliver of attention from your father or siblings. But it never worked.

They always seemed so caught up in their own lives, their own missions, their own struggles. Dick was the golden boy, your father’s favourite no doubt. Jason was the black sheep of the family, but everyone still cared abiut him. Tim was the genius strategist, very much like your father, someone who felt so out of reach for you. Damian was the prodigy heir, the blood son, as he liked to flaunt, and someone able to have a proper father-son bond with Bruce. Cassandra was the silent powerhouse who also had an unshakable bond with Bruce, and Duke? Duke was the bright light—the one who somehow fit into the family dynamic faster than you ever could.

And you? You didn’t fit anywhere. You were just there, occupying space, trying so desperately to carve a place for yourself in a family that didn’t seem to have room for you.

You told yourself it would get better. That one day, they’d see you. But that day never came.

By the time you were twenty, you’d long since lost yourself in the role of being “Bruce Wayne’s daughter.” You couldn’t even remember what you liked or what you wanted for yourself anymore. What’s worde was that you weren’t even acknowledged as Bruce Wayne’s daughter. You were a disgrace, the media and public not letting you forget about your “disgraceful” bloodline. Your mother had an affair with Bruce Wayne years ago, and the moment you were born, she just left you at the doorstep of the manor, and completely disappeared. You weren’t wanted by your mother, nor your father. Nor by anyone else. Yet, you still tried. Hoping that things would change. Things would be different. But then, one night, everything ended.

It was a routine patrol. You’d tracked a lead on a drug ring to a rundown warehouse. It should have been simple. But then the shootout started. You held your own as best as you could, but you weren’t fast enough. You weren’t strong enough.

As you lay there bleeding out, alone in the cold darkness of the alley, all you could think about were regrets.

You wished you hadn’t wasted so much of your life chasing the approval of a family that didn’t seem to care. You wished you hadn’t pushed away your friends—the ones who told you that you deserved better, who begged you to stop throwing yourself into something that was breaking you. You wished you’d never picked up a mask at all.

Crime-fighting wasn’t for you. You knew that deep down. You wanted to help people, yes, but you weren’t like your brothers and sister. You didn’t have their instincts, their skills, their drive. It was like everyone else was built for this life, as if it was etched into their very bones. But you weren’t like them. You were trying to fight battles you weren’t built for, all because you thought it would make them notice you.

And as the world faded, your final thought was this: If I could do it all over again, I’d leave. I’d move out the second I could. I’d erase every trace of (Name) Wayne and start over. I’d live for myself.

Then everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the ceiling of your bedroom at Wayne Manor. You sat up, your heart pounding. The pain was gone, your wounds were gone—everything felt… normal. Too normal.

You looked down at yourself, noticing your hands were smaller, your frame slighter. Confused, you stumbled to the mirror across the room, and what you saw made your breath catch.

It was you. But younger. You couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

Your mind raced. Was this some kind of hallucination? A cruel trick? But then your gaze caught the date on your phone. It was four years ago.

You were sixteen again.

Should I write about this??

edit: yes, i think i’m gonna write this now, just need at least a few days to draft the storyline and see where i want to go with it 🫶

edit 2: yes, i’ve already started working on this , go check it out!! <3

#imagine #x reader #angst #batsis #batfamily #batfam x batsis #bruce wayne x daughter reader #damian wayne x sister reader #batfam x reader #batsisreader #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #duke thomas

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0silver0dreams0 · 8 days ago

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She just wanted to be loved—even if it killed her.

Platonic Yandere!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Warning: emotional neglect, domestic abuse, physical violence, emotional manipulation, loss of pregnancy, gaslighting, yandere behaviour, obsessive familial control, stalking, overprotection, psychological trauma, implied death threats.

In many stories, Reader is portrayed as someone completely alone. And hey—those stories are beautiful too. But this isn’t one of those. She had people. Friends. Some good. Some toxic. Some who only called when they needed a favour, or a shoulder to cry on. But no one ever truly listened when she spoke. Not really.

She was always there for everyone else. The comforter. The fixer. The secret keeper. But when it came to herself? Her feelings were locked away, pressed deep beneath a tired smile and a soft voice that always said: “I’m fine.”

She struggled to open up. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was habit. Either way—no one ever saw how much she was hurting. Not her friends. Not even her family.

So when he came into her life, she didn’t resist. He was kind. Charming. And most of all—attentive. He saw her. Heard her. Touched her face like she was sacred. He told her she mattered. That she was enough. That he couldn’t breathe without her.

It was intoxicating.

So when he started yelling—she flinched, but stayed. When he shoved her—she apologized. When the bruises bloomed across her skin, she covered them. Because even if it hurt… at least he was still there.

She told herself, “This is what love feels like, right?”

Her friends started to notice the change. The forced smile. The constant excuses. But she always brushed them off.

And her family?

They didn’t see it. Not at first.

Bruce had been too busy—always too busy. He assumed that if she wasn’t screaming, she was fine. He never once asked her if she was happy. Because deep down, he didn’t want to know.

Dick adored her in his own way—but only when it was convenient. He promised brunches, movie nights, afternoons in the park. But he always cancelled. Always had some mission, some emergency, some excuse. She’d sit alone in cafés for hours, hoping maybe this time he’d show. He never did.

Jason barely acknowledged her existence. To him, she was just another mouth Bruce fed, another responsibility in a house already full of ghosts and broken kids. He never bothered to ask her anything real. She tried, once, to ask him about one of the books he read. He brushed her off without even looking up. She didn’t try again.

Tim saw everything—except her. Always distracted, always overworked. He forgot her birthday. Forgot her favourite food. Forgot she was someone who could shatter.

Damian pushed her away with harsh words and colder stares. Called her useless. Weak. And once—just once—he lost his temper and struck her. It wasn’t hard, not enough to leave a mark for long, but enough to silence the room and stop her breath. He muttered an apology the next day—dry, forced, as if she had made him do it. He never mentioned it again. And she never dared speak of it.

Cass noticed the silences. The way her eyes lingered too long on closed doors. But she didn’t know what to say. She thought her presence was enough. She believed silence meant peace. She didn’t realise silence could scream.

Steph was sunshine and noise. Always pulling everyone out for ice cream or rooftop dance breaks. She talked at Reader, never to her. Never stopped to notice how often she smiled without her eyes. She called her “quiet,” “shy,” “a little ghost.” But she never asked why she haunted her own home.

Duke was all warmth and bright intentions. But he assumed she’d speak up if something was wrong. He believed in checking in—with everyone else. She was always the last one on his list, if she even made it at all. When she didn’t answer group texts, he just figured she was busy. He never knocked on her door.

She was there. But no one saw her. Not really. Not as a whole person. Not as someone whose heart bled behind closed doors.

To them, she was quiet. To her, she was invisible.

Then came the night everything changed.

The boyfriend had been angry. Jealous. She had laughed at someone’s joke—that was all. He hit her so hard, she collapsed.

The next thing she knew, she was in a hospital bed, bright lights burning her eyes, pain radiating through her body.

She heard murmurs. Machines. A doctor’s voice.

“Internal bleeding.” “Multiple fractures.” “Possible concussion.” And then— “She was pregnant.”

Everything stopped.

She blinked, unsure if she heard right. Pregnant?

She hadn’t even known.

No symptoms. No missed signs—just denial. Her body had been too tired, too beaten, too fragile. She thought the blood was just another bruise. She didn’t even realise what she’d lost until it was gone.

The child. The tiny, fragile life inside her. Gone—just like that.

And that’s when her family finally saw her.

Bruce stood outside the hospital room, fists clenched, jaw locked. He had let this happen. Under his watch. Under his roof. And the thought that he hadn’t even noticed she was pregnant? It broke him. And twisted him.

Dick didn’t stop crying. He kept whispering, “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen.” But guilt changes nothing.

Jason went silent. Dangerously silent. He didn’t speak—he planned. Planned how to kill the man who did this. Planned how to make sure she never felt pain again.

Tim disappeared for hours, only to come back with every piece of that bastard’s life ruined. Bank accounts. Identity. Everything—gone.

Damian stared at her through the hospital window and said only one thing: “I will make sure he dies screaming.” And he meant it.

Cass refused to leave her side. She didn’t speak. Just held her hand, brushing her hair back gently, as if to say: “I’m here now. I won’t let go.”

Steph fell apart in the hallway. Cried against Duke’s shoulder, whispering, “We failed her. We failed her.”

Duke blamed himself. He had trusted her silence. And now, he couldn’t stop replaying her every word, wondering how he’d missed it.

They all failed her. And they would never forgive themselves.

So when she finally woke up…

They changed.

It started slow. More “check-ins.” GPS apps “for safety.” Cameras outside her apartment. A curfew.

Then it escalated. Bruce wouldn’t let her out of the manor without a reason. Dick followed her to the store. Jason installed locks—ones only he could open. Tim monitored her phone and social media. Damian threatened every male who dared speak to her. Steph “redecorated” her apartment so she’d feel “more at home” at the manor. Cass became her shadow. Duke started sleeping on the couch outside her room, “just in case.”

She thought they were just overprotective. Then she realised—she wasn’t allowed to be alone. Ever.

They had already lost her once. They wouldn’t risk it again.

It wasn’t just obsession. It was possession. A twisted, suffocating, overbearing kind of love.

And maybe, just maybe… They didn’t want her to heal. Because if she healed— She might try to leave. And they would never let that happen.

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writingbuckets · 5 months ago

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𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

paige bueckers x reader

wc: 6.8k

synopsis: Y/N and Paige Bueckers are caught in a tense moment after Paige’s jealousy and neglect come to a head. With emotions running high, both struggle to navigate their complicated feelings, forcing them to confront the future of their relationship.

warnings: angst, jealousy, explicit sexual content, slight manipulation, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, slight violence (physical restraint)

a/n: i present to you... jealous paige bc this is one of my favorite tropes literally ever! this was 16 pages on google docs so i apologize for that, gonna go through all my posts and add warnings to them so i shall see you later <3

You’re sprawled out on your bed, limbs heavy against the soft blanket, phone clutched in one hand. The screen casts a faint glow in the dim room, illuminating the furrow of frustration etched into your brow. Your thumb idly scrolls through your message thread with Paige—a barren wasteland of unanswered texts. Each message feels like a tiny stone dropped into the pit of your stomach, adding to the growing weight.

Monday

Hey, how’d practice go? You alive?

Wednesday

I know you’re busy, but can we talk soon? Paige?

Friday

Cool. Guess I’ll take the hint.

You sigh heavily, locking your phone and tossing it onto the bed beside you. The device bounces slightly before settling face down, but your mind refuses to let it go. A sharp buzz suddenly cuts through the silence, jolting your heart into a sprint. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers. You snatch up the phone, only for disappointment to flood in when Jasmine’s name lights up the screen instead.

You swipe to answer, switching to speaker and tossing it back on the bed. “What’s up, Jas?” you say, your tone flat and lacking its usual warmth.

“Clearly not you,” Jasmine replies, her voice teasing but tinged with concern. “You sound like someone kicked your puppy. Is this about Paige again?”

You pause, chewing on your bottom lip, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.

“She’s been ghosting me all week,” you finally admit, bitterness seeping into your voice like a slow drip. “I get that basketball keeps her busy, but is it really that hard to send one text? Like, ‘Hey, sorry, can’t talk right now’? That’s all I’m asking. It’s not rocket science.”

Jasmine’s incredulous tone comes through loud and clear. “Wait. She hasn’t responded at all? Not even a quick ‘Hey, I’m swamped’?”

“Not a word,” you reply, the edge in your voice sharpening. “Meanwhile, she’s out here talking about how much she likes me and how she wants to make things work. For what? So I can sit here, feeling like a damn afterthought, while she… I don’t even know what she’s doing anymore.”

“You deserve so much better,” Jasmine says firmly, her voice a grounding presence.

“Tell me about it,” you mutter, picking up your phone again despite yourself. It’s a reflex, a bad habit you can’t seem to break. You open Instagram, swiping through stories without purpose, when something stops you cold.

KK’s latest post dominates the screen. It’s a picture of the team crammed into a booth at Ted’s, smiles wide and carefree. Paige is smack in the middle, holding up Dirty Shirley, her grin so effortless it’s like she hasn’t ignored a single text in her life. She looks happy. Relaxed. Completely unbothered.

The caption reads: “Dubs only, baby! Turnt up with the squad 🏀.”

Your grip on the phone tightens as heat rises to your cheeks. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. So, she has time for this? Time to party, to hang out with her team, to go to Ted’s of all places—your spot—but can’t find two seconds to acknowledge you?

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, the words simmering with anger.

“What happened?” Jasmine’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“She’s at Ted’s,” you say through gritted teeth. “With the team. Laughing, drinking, looking like life is perfect while I’m over here wondering if she fell off the face of the Earth.”

“Oh, hell no,” Jasmine says, her indignation matching your own. “She thinks she can ignore you and get away with it? Nope. Get up, put on your hottest outfit, and remind her who the hell you are.”

You sit up, heart pounding as the idea takes root. Your glare is fixed on KK’s post, as if staring at it hard enough might erase the image entirely. Locking your phone, you toss it onto the bed before swinging your legs over the side.

“You know what?” you say, your voice steady and laced with resolve. “Maybe I will.”

The moment you’ve had enough, something shifts inside you—like a fire being reignited. The frustration that’s been simmering all evening finally boils over, and you grab your phone with newfound determination. Sitting upright on your bed, you unlock the screen, your fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced ease.

Y’all down for Ted’s tonight? Need backup.

The message is direct, no frills. This isn’t just a night out—it’s a mission.

Jasmine’s reply comes almost instantly, as if she’s been waiting for an excuse to hit the town. Say less. On my way in 20. Her energy is palpable even through a text.

Seconds later, Veronica chimes in: I’m in. Let’s cause some trouble. Her signature wink emoji follows, and you can’t help but smirk.

Finally, Serena’s response lights up your screen with a single word: Bet. Short, sweet, and packed with confidence.

With your friends locked in, you toss your phone onto the bed and head straight to your closet. It’s time to make a statement—one that’s impossible to ignore. You stand in front of your wardrobe, fingers brushing over hangers as you mentally critique each option. Too casual. Too plain. Too predictable.

After what feels like an eternity, your hand lands on the one. It’s bold, sleek, and undeniably sexy—a figure-hugging dress that accentuates all the right places and practically demands attention. You pull it off the hanger, holding it up in front of the mirror. The deep color complements your skin perfectly, and the hem does the absolute minimum in covering the bottom of your ass.

You slip into it carefully, smoothing the fabric over your body and adjusting it until it fits like a second skin. Taking a step back, you examine yourself in the mirror, tilting your head as a small smile plays on your lips. You look good. No—scratch that. You look amazing. But tonight, looking amazing isn’t enough. You want to turn heads. You want Paige to feel it.

Not done yet, you move to your vanity, flipping on the lights. Your makeup bag sits waiting, and you dive in with practiced precision. First, a flawless base, smooth and glowing, like your skin was kissed by the perfect Instagram filter. You follow with a contour that defines your features, giving you a sharp, sculpted look. Then comes the winged liner, bold and dramatic, with a flick so precise it could cut glass. Smokey eyeshadow enhances the look, making your gaze impossible to ignore, and a high-shine gloss adds the perfect finishing touch to your lips.

You lean back, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror. Every detail is on point, down to the faint shimmer of highlighter catching the light on your cheekbones. It’s flawless, if you do say so yourself.

As you’re spritzing on your favorite perfume—a scent both intoxicating and unforgettable—your phone buzzes again. Jasmine’s text reads: Outside. Let’s do this.

You slip on your favorite pair of chunky, heeled boots, the ones that make you feel like you own every room you walk into, and grab your bag. The rhythmic click of your heels on the pavement mirrors your determination as you stride out to Jasmine’s car.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you’re met with a low whistle from Jasmine. “Damn, girl,” she says, giving you an approving once-over. “Are you trying to destroy someone tonight?”

You smirk as you buckle your seatbelt, tossing your bag onto your lap. “Not destroy. Just remind a certain someone what she’s about to lose.”

Jasmine’s laugh fills the car as she reaches over for a fist bump. “Now that is the energy I needed. She won’t know what hit her.”

The ride to Ted’s feels electric. The bass of the music pulses through the car, a perfect soundtrack to your rising confidence. Jasmine keeps hyping you up the whole way, stealing glances at you every so often.

“You look so good, you’re probably going to start a fight,” she teases with a grin.

You meet her eyes with a smirk, adjusting a strand of hair in the mirror. “Good,” you say, your voice dripping with confidence. “Let her be mad. She’s got it coming.”

Jasmine’s laughter rings out, blending with the music as the two of you pull into the crowded parking lot. The neon sign for Ted’s glows against the night sky, and the hum of voices and laughter spills out into the cool evening air.

You step out of the car with purpose, adjusting your outfit one last time as your heels click against the asphalt. One final glance in the car’s side mirror confirms what you already know: you’re a vision, and tonight, you’re a force to be reckoned with.

Ted’s won’t know what hit it. And neither will Paige.

The low buzz of voices and the faint clinking of glasses hit you the moment you step into Ted’s. The warm glow of string lights overhead bathes the packed bar in a golden hue, and the energy in the room is palpable—loud laughter, animated conversations, and the occasional cheer erupting from the direction of the pool table. Your heels click against the floor as you make your way in with Jasmine, Veronica, and Serena flanking you like a well-coordinated squad.

It doesn’t take long to spot her. Paige is exactly where you expected, seated in a large booth near the back with Azzi, KK, Ice, and Jana. She’s dressed casually, black denim shorts, a black crop top, and an unbuttoned, white shirt, but she might as well be wearing a neon sign with the way she draws attention. She’s laughing, leaning back with her arm draped casually over the seat, completely at ease. You can see the sparkle in her eyes from here, even as she remains blissfully unaware of your presence.

The sight makes your stomach twist, but you shake it off. Tonight isn’t about Paige. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Let’s hit the bar,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you lead your friends in the opposite direction, deliberately ignoring the booth and the person in it.

The bartender greets you with a smile, and you order a couple rounds of shots for your group, letting Jasmine and the others hype you up as you throw them back the second they’re placed in front of you. Once you feel enough of a buzz to quell your anxiety, you decide to settle for a mixed drink to sip on for the remainder of the night. It isn’t long before you notice someone approaching, a tall, athletic-looking girl with broad shoulders and an easy grin. She’s wearing a fitted T-shirt and jeans, and the confidence in her stride is unmistakable.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the bar. Her voice is low, smooth. “You look like you’re having more fun than anyone else here.”

You flash her a smile, tilting your head slightly. “You could say that.”

Her grin widens, and she introduces herself, launching into a conversation that you quickly match. Her compliments come freely—your outfit, your laugh, even the way you carry yourself—and you don’t hold back, laughing a little louder than usual and letting your fingers brush against her arm as you talk.

Across the booth, KK nudges Paige, a look of concern flickering across her face. “Uh, hey, isn’t that Y/N?” she says, nodding toward the bar.

Paige’s head snaps toward KK, her expression darkening as she follows her teammate’s line of sight. Her brows knit together as she takes in the scene—your effortless smile, the way you lean into the girl’s space, her hand resting on the bar just a little too close to yours. She recognizes the look in your eyes, it’s the same look she was on the receiving end of the first night you met.

“Yeah,” Paige says shortly, her voice clipped. She sets her drink down with more force than necessary, her grip tightening around the glass before she looks away.

Meanwhile, you pretend not to notice the silent storm brewing across the room. You keep your focus on the girl in front of you, leaning in just enough to keep the conversation flowing, though you can feel the heat of Paige’s jealousy from where you stand. It sends a thrill through you, equal parts satisfaction and spite.

As the girl laughs at something you’ve said, you turn your head to the side slightly, trying to catch a glance at the booth where Paige sits. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her tense, her hand balling into a fist on the table as she murmurs something to Azzi.

You can feel it in the air, Paige is reaching her breaking point. And that’s exactly what you wanted.

Paige sits stiffly in the booth, her grip on her drink tightening as her knuckles blanch. Her jaw works furiously, muscles twitching as if she’s holding back an eruption. The sound of your laugh, airy and effortless, cuts through the din of the bar, and Paige’s eyes flicker with barely concealed rage. Her teammates exchange uneasy glances, sensing the storm brewing beside them.

Azzi nudges KK and leans in. “Uh, is she okay?”

KK shrugs, her voice low. “I don’t think so.”

Paige suddenly stands, her movements sharp and deliberate. The scrape of her chair against the floor draws their attention.

“Where are you going?” Azzi asks, concern softening her voice.

Paige doesn’t look at her, her gaze fixed like a laser on you across the room. “I’ll be back,” she mutters, her voice clipped.

She doesn’t wait for a response, weaving through the crowd with purpose. Her steps are quick, her shoulders tight, and her eyes never leave you. You’re at the bar, leaning casually against the counter, completely absorbed in your conversation with the tall, athletic-looking girl beside you. The girl leans in close, her hand grazing your arm as she says something that makes you throw your head back with a laugh.

Paige’s chest tightens, and the corners of her vision blur with the heat of her jealousy. Each second feels like an eternity as she closes the distance, her blood boiling at the sight of the stranger getting a little too comfortable with you.

When she reaches you, she doesn’t pause to think. Her arm snakes around your waist in one swift motion, pulling you firmly against her side. The sudden contact makes you gasp, your conversation abruptly cut off. The flirty girl takes a step back, startled and clearly intimidated by Paige’s possessive presence.

“We’re leaving,” Paige says, her tone low and commanding. Her words are sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air.

You turn your head sharply, blinking in surprise as your eyes meet hers. The fire in her gaze burns so brightly it could scorch you, but you’re too stubborn to back down. “Now you have time to talk to me?” you ask, drawing the sentence out with deliberate sarcasm. “I think I’m fine right here.”

Paige’s jaw ticks, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, her arm tightens around your waist, her fingers pressing firmly into your side. It’s a silent warning, one you choose to ignore as you plant your feet against her attempts to steer you toward the door.

“Paige, what the hell?” you protest, your voice rising with irritation.

“Not here,” she snaps, her tone cold and final. Her grip remains unrelenting as she continues to lead you away from the bar.

Your friends notice the commotion, Jasmine standing halfway out of her seat. “Y/N, are you good?” she calls, her brows furrowed with concern.

You twist in Paige’s hold just enough to look back at them, throwing a hand up in a dismissive wave. “I’ll text you!” you shout over your shoulder, your voice dripping with frustration.

Paige doesn’t slow her pace until the two of you are outside, the cool night air biting at your skin. She releases you near her car, and you immediately step back, glaring at her.

“Seriously, Paige?” you snap, your voice sharp as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think you can just show up, ruin my night, and drag me out like this?”

Paige’s nostrils flare as she turns to face you fully, her expression thunderous. “I think I just did.”

Eventually you arrive at her apartment, and she has to practically pull you out of her car by your arm. The second you step into Paige’s entryway, you rip your arm out of her grip with enough force to make her stumble slightly. You spin around to face her, your chest heaving with frustration. The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the space like a gunshot.

“What the hell is your problem, Paige?” you shout, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Your words are sharp, fueled by anger that’s been simmering for days.

Paige whirls around to face you, her face already twisted in fury. “My problem?” she fires back, her voice rising to match yours, letting out a humorless chuckle. “You’re out there all over some random girl, and you’re asking me what my problem is?”

You take a step closer, refusing to back down. “Yeah, I am! Because you ignore me all week, and the second I talk to someone else, you suddenly care? Make it make sense, Paige!”

She runs both hands through her hair, pacing in jerky, frustrated strides between the door and the counter. “Do you know how insane it made me to see you with her?” she snaps, her words laced with raw, unfiltered emotion. “Laughing, touching her, looking like you were having the time of your life? Like I didn’t even exist?”

You laugh bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless as you cross your arms over your chest. “That’s rich, Paige. At least she actually talked to me, which is more than I’ve gotten from you in weeks.”

The room feels charged, every word hanging heavy in the air, but Paige isn’t done. She steps forward again, her voice low and rough with frustration. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t want to talk to you? You’re all over her, touching her like it doesn’t matter, and it’s driving me crazy—"

“Gee, sounds like you finally get it,” you fire back, your words sharp with bitterness. “But hey, don’t worry, I’ll stop talking to people if it’ll make you feel better. Maybe next time, I’ll just sit in the corner and wait for you to remember I’m here, like some sad little backup plan.”

You turn your head, preparing to walk out, but before you can take a single step, Paige’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist with a force that stops you in your tracks. Your heart pounds in your chest as you turn to face her, ready to throw another snarky remark her way.

But before you can speak, she’s there, bringing her hands to grab both sides of your face, her lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes you by surprise. You freeze for a split second, then instinct kicks in. You try to pull away, pushing against her chest with as much force as you can muster.

But she doesn’t let up. Her kiss deepens, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. The anger you’ve been carrying fades, replaced with confusion and something else you can’t quite name. You can feel her tension, her frustration, her need for something—maybe an answer, maybe redemption.

She slides one of her hands down to anchor around the front of your throat, her other hand drifting to grab at your hip through the thin material of your dress. She slowly starts to back you towards her kitchen, not stopping until the top of your ass is pressing against the island counter. She brings both hands to your hips, tapping the side of your ass with one hand, encouraging you to jump, and roughly squeezing your hip with the other.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as she lifts you effortlessly onto the cool marble countertop. Her hands slide possessively up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. She steps forward, wedging herself between your parted legs.

"You look so fucking good in this dress," she says, her voice low and thick with desire. One hand slips under the fabric to caress the bare skin of your hip while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat.

She dips her head, warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin before her lips press against your racing pulse. Your back arches as she nips at the delicate skin, soothing the pinch with her tongue and surely leaving a mark. A breathy moan fills the air and it takes you a moment to realize it came from you.

Her lips trail lower, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You shiver as her tongue flicks out to taste your skin. The hand on your hip slides inward, fingertips skimming teasingly along the inside of your thigh.

You wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her in closer, desperate for more contact. She chuckles darkly against your throat, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing down your spine. "I love it when you get like this," she murmurs approvingly. "All desperate and needy."

To punctuate her point, she rolls her hips, grinding against your center. The pressure and friction draw a keening whimper from your lips. Your hands fly up to grip her strong shoulders, nails digging into taut muscle through her shirt.

Her lips glide over your skin, a delicate yet fervent touch, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. As she moves up from your jawline, each kiss ignites a spark, and her breath, hot and teasing, touches your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. "I've been thinking about having you like this all night," she murmurs.

You whimper as her hands skim higher, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric. She captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

She reaches up to pull your dress down, revealing your bare breasts. Her lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, sucking and biting it gently. You arch into her touch, a moan escaping your parted lips as she places full attention on the sensitive bud. Her tongue flicks and swirls, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Her other hand palms your neglected breast, kneading the supple flesh. She rolls the pebbled nipple between her fingers, pinching and tugging in time with the ministrations of her mouth, each pull sending another rush of heat flooding your body.

"So pretty, baby," she says, the words vibrating against your skin. She gives your nipple one last hard suck before trailing her lips across your chest to the other breast, circling her tongue around the straining peak. Her mouth is relentless, her tongue swirling and flicking over your nipple until it’s aching, her teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Her free hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You’re already wet, your panties soaked through, and she groans against your skin as her fingers brush over the damp fabric.

Your head falls back as you cry out, hands fisting in her silky hair to hold her close. She smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the reactions she's pulling from your trembling body. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing your body closer to hers as you desperately seek more of her touch, the sound of her soft chuckle making you shudder with pleasure.

"Patience," she whispers, the word barely audible as her fingers trace lazy circles around your clit through the lace of your underwear. The sensation is frustrating, and you can't help but whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily in search of more contact.

You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body responding to her touch in ways you never thought possible. You already know she's jealous, you saw the way she looked at you earlier when you were talking to that other girl. But you can't help but feel thrilled at the way she's touching you now, as if she's trying to claim you as her own.

You lean back on your hands, your eyes locked on Paige's as she continues to tease you. Her gaze is intense, fiery, and you can see the possessiveness in her eyes. It sends a thrill down your spine, making you even more turned on.

"You're mine," Paige murmurs, her voice low and husky, filled with an undeniable possessiveness. The words send a thrill throughout your body, making your heart race with excitement. “Say it.”

"I'm yours," you whisper back, your voice barely audible as the tension builds within you. You can feel the pressure growing more and more intense, your body aching for release.

Paige's fingers finally slip under the waistband of your underwear, making contact with your sensitive skin. The feeling is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly as she begins to stroke you. Her touch is firm and confident, her fingers expertly finding your most sensitive spots.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm, your body trembling with anticipation. Paige's gaze is locked on yours, her eyes filled with a fierce intensity that makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "Come for me, baby."

And with those words, you finally let go, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out her name. Paige holds you close, her fingers still moving rhythmically as you ride out your orgasm. As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Paige pulls her fingers away from your clit.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Paige is on you again. She moves with a speed and agility that takes you by surprise, pushing your back onto the counter with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your body splayed out beneath her, you feel a thrill of excitement run through you. You're completely at her mercy, and the thought is intoxicating. Paige's hand makes its way back to your throat, her grip firm and unyielding. She pins you to the counter by your throat, her body pressing against yours as she holds you in place.

You gasp at the sudden change in position, your heart racing with a combination of fear and excitement. The feeling of being completely dominated by Paige is both terrifying and exhilarating, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Paige's other hand slides back between your legs, her fingers finding your entrance with ease. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing moment, your body responding instinctually to her touch. She finds your g-spot easily, her fingers curling and pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure. You moan softly, your hips bucking as she begins to stroke you, her movements slow and deliberate at first, before building up to a feverish pace.

But she’s not content with just bringing you to orgasm. She wants to claim you, to mark you as hers in every way possible. And as she continues to finger you, her grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, you know that you're completely and utterly hers.

Paige's movements become more insistent, her fingers moving faster and harder as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink of another orgasm, your body writhing and bucking beneath her touch. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as she continues, her movements growing more frantic as she feels your body starting to give in to the pleasure. “Paige, I can’t… it’s too much.”

“Nah, baby, I’ve been so mean to you this week, I just wanna make it up to you.” You moan louder now, your voice echoing through the room as Paige brings you to new heights of pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending sparking with pleasure. “C’mon, I know you can take it.”

And then, with one final stroke, you reach the peak of your orgasm, your body convulsing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Paige's fingers continue to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm and sending you spiraling into new heights of ecstasy. When it's all over, you collapse back onto the counter, your body spent and satisfied. Paige pulls her fingers away, a satisfied smirk on her face as she looks down at you, bringing her fingers to her mouth to suck at the remnants of your orgasm.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended, though the heat in your cheeks betrays your embarrassment. You quickly move to fix your dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious now that the moment is over.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Paige replies, her voice steady but softer than usual. Still, her gaze doesn’t waver, her blue eyes fixed on you.

The silence in the apartment feels suffocating, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. The distant hum of the refrigerator is the only sound, an almost mocking contrast to the charged tension between you. Sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, you swing your legs idly, trying to feign a casualness you don’t feel. The cool surface beneath you does little to soothe the heat creeping up your neck as Paige stands in front of you, close enough that her presence seems to fill the room.

When you finally look at her, expecting that same smug, self-satisfied smirk she’s perfected, you’re caught off guard. Her expression isn’t cocky; it’s something else entirely. The spark of amusement is gone, replaced by something heavier, something raw. Her blue eyes hold yours, steady and searching, as if she’s trying to find the words buried somewhere between you.

Paige shifts slightly, her hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. She takes a breath, her chest rising and falling in a way that betrays the steady confidence she usually exudes. For a split second, it feels like the world narrows down to just this moment, just the two of you.

Her voice finally breaks the silence, low and uncharacteristically serious. “You know we need to talk about everything.”

The words hang between you, heavy and undeniable. Her tone is firm but carries a vulnerability that makes your stomach twist. She’s not brushing this off or dancing around it like you half-expected. No teasing grin, no playful deflection—just a directness that makes it impossible to pretend this is something you can both walk away from unscathed.

Paige shifts her weight slightly, standing even closer now, the space between your legs shrinking until there’s barely any left. The warmth of her body radiates against you, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of every inch of space she occupies. Her eyes don’t leave yours, and you can tell she’s waiting, giving you the chance to push her away—or pull her closer.

But the way she looks at you, so open and unguarded, makes it hard to do either. It’s a stark contrast to the Paige who had been ignoring your texts all week, and yet, it feels so achingly familiar. You’re torn between wanting to stay guarded and giving in to the pull of the moment. Finally, you arch an eyebrow, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions threatening to surface.

“Okay,” you say, your tone more challenging than you intended. “Start talking.”

Paige’s shoulders stiffen, and for a second, you think she might retreat into that wall of stoicism she hides behind so well. But then her jaw tightens, and she steps even closer, her closeness making your nervousness spike, but you don’t flinch, meeting her gaze head-on.

“I can’t stand seeing you with someone else,” she says, her words thick with frustration. “I don’t want you flirting, laughing, or even looking at anyone but me. I want you, Y/N. Only you. I want us to be exclusive. I’ll do better. Just… don’t ever do that again.”

Your breath catches, and you almost flinch at how accurately her words cut to the truth. Still, you say nothing, giving her the space to continue.

“I messed up,” she begins, her voice quiet but deliberate. “I know I’ve been distant. I know I’ve made you feel like you’re not important to me, like basketball or… anything else in my life comes before you.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to maintain your composure, the snarky defense you’ve built up around yourself threatening to crack. You cross your arms, fighting to keep the sarcasm in your voice, even though your insides are a tangled mess of emotions.

“Exclusive, huh?” you challenge, your voice sharp, almost taunting, as you raise an eyebrow. Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between you and the vulnerability she’s suddenly laying at your feet. “And what happens when basketball gets in the way again? When I’m just another item on your to-do list?”

Paige flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The slight crack in her usually unshakable confidence stirs something in you—satisfaction, maybe, or guilt. You can’t quite tell. Her jaw tightens, the muscles working as if she’s biting back the first response that comes to mind. Instead, her gaze shifts, no longer carrying the frustration or defensiveness you’ve grown used to. Instead, there’s something softer, rawer, in the way she looks at you now. The intensity of her eyes locks you in place, her expression quietly pleading yet resolute.

“I’m not going to let that happen again,” Paige says, her voice low and steady. “I know I’ve screwed up before. I’ve made you feel like you’re not a priority, like you’re just… there, waiting for me to fit you in.” She pauses, the weight of her own admission hanging heavily between you. “But that’s not how I see you. That’s not what I want us to be.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. There’s no rehearsed apology, no empty promises. Just a raw honesty that feels like she’s peeling back the layers she’s kept hidden from everyone else. Your heart twists, torn between holding onto your frustration and the pull of what she’s offering.

You narrow your eyes, unwilling to let her off the hook so easily. “And how do I know this isn’t just another one of your moments? That it won’t be the same cycle all over again?”

Paige exhales, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of your skepticism. “Because I don’t want to lose you,” she says simply, her tone almost breaking. “Because when I saw you with her tonight, it felt like the ground was being ripped out from under me. I don’t want to feel that again, Y/N. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not enough, or that you’re not worth my time.”

You’re still sitting on the counter, and the height difference gives you a brief sense of power, though it doesn’t last long under the intensity of her gaze.

“You’re not some item on a list,” she continues, her voice softening as she tilts her head to meet your eyes. “You’re the list, Y/N. You’re the one thing that matters more than all of it. And if that means I have to rearrange my life, show up differently, or prove it to you every single day, then that’s what I’ll do.”

The vulnerability in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and bitterness you’ve been clinging to starts to loosen its grip. Still, you’re not ready to let her win that easily. You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as if to study her, daring her to flinch under your scrutiny.

“You’re really laying it on thick, Bueckers,” you quip, though the usual sharpness in your tone is softened by the faintest hint of a smirk.

Paige’s lips twitch upward, a flicker of her usual confidence returning. “That’s because I mean it,” she counters, her voice steady. “I’m not going to let you walk away from this—not without fighting for you.”

You’re quiet for a moment, the air between you charged with unspoken feelings and the lingering tension of everything that’s gone unsaid for far too long.

“So, you’re telling me I’m the priority now?” you ask, your voice quieter this time, a little softer, though you keep your arms crossed in a weak attempt to shield yourself. There’s hesitation in your tone, an uncertainty you can’t quite hide, but the words still slip past your lips. “Not basketball, not your schedule, not the team?”

Paige doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t waver. Her blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that pins you in place, her conviction written all over her face. “Yes,” she says, her voice steady, as though the truth of it is something she’s carried for a long time. “You. Only you, Y/N.”

You look down at where her hands rest, then back up to meet her eyes—those piercing blue eyes that seem to hold nothing but honesty and a hint of fear, as if she’s bracing for your rejection. Your defenses falter. The weight of her confession, the raw emotion in her voice, the way she’s standing there, so vulnerable—it all seeps into the cracks of your resolve. Slowly, your arms drop to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing as you exhale a shaky breath.

“Paige,” you murmur, your voice quieter now, fueled with something more forgiving. “If you screw this up—”

“I won’t,” she interrupts, her voice firm but not forceful. Her hands slide up slightly, resting on your hips now, anchoring herself to you. “I swear to you, Y/N. I won’t.”

You hold her gaze for another long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But all you see is determination—determination and something deeper, something so achingly familiar it makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” you whisper, the word barely audible, but it’s enough. Enough to make Paige’s expression soften, her shoulders relax, and a spark of hope flicker in her eyes.

Her grip on your hips tightens slightly as she steps closer, standing between your legs, her face just inches from yours now. “Okay?” she repeats, as if she can’t quite believe it.

“Okay,” you say again, your voice steadier this time. You tilt your head slightly, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But you’d better back it up, Bueckers. I’m not making this easy for you.”

Paige chuckles softly, a sound filled with relief and affection. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Before you can respond, she leans in, her hands sliding up to cup your face gently, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. She hesitates for the briefest moment, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you don’t, she closes the distance.

The kiss is slow at first, almost tentative, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. But it doesn’t take long for the intensity to build, for her to pour every ounce of her emotions into the connection. Her lips move against yours with a mix of passion and desperation, and you can feel her heartbeat pounding in sync with your own.

Your hands find their way to her shoulders, then slide up to thread through her hair, pulling her closer as you kiss her back with just as much fervor. The tension, the anger, the frustration of the past week melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest like wildfire.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting together. Paige’s eyes search yours, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. “I’ll make it up to you, Y/N. Every day. You’ll see.”

You can’t help but smile back, your fingers still tangled in her hair. “You’d better,” you reply, your tone soft but teasing. “Because I’m holding you to it.”

Paige grins, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it feels like everything is falling into place.

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